X-Ra 

(LONELY NIGHT/KNIGHT)

J.S.S.

Chapter 1: 

-HE HAS NO NAME-

“Tell it again father, Please?? It’s my favorite story and you never tell it, please father, I promise I’ll finish all my work at the first light of day!” 

“Hahaha enough little one, my head is aching, but I will tell it again, but only once more and then to bed with you and me. Hahaha”. 

Once upon a time, there was a magnificent castle and there within, there ruled a magnificent King. He was loved by all he ruled for he was true and proud and his laughter was joyous like trumpets in their hearts. They loved their King and he loved them all as if they were his own.

The King was in his elder years and he had a daughter fair and true and she was as beautiful as a diamond in the dawn sky. He also had a son they say, who was lost and never found. A sadder tale I have not heard than Knight of Stolen Crown.

Chapter 2:

-CRYING/IMMORTAL-

The wind blew cold that night. It slipped through the cracks in his already worn armor and found its way past his hoods and cloaks, down his tattered sleeves and through his shaggy hair. And then at last it snapped against his body like a whip and he shivered and pulled his cape closer. 

“Not long yet” he said, 

“This one’s still got somewhere to be”

He walked and stopped and walked some more until the wood turned to fields of brown and gold. 

“Ah a cinnamon plantation, as good a sign as any that the road I walk is true enough, that is to say I am happy that I came this way. Perhaps one day again, I shall walk these fragrant steps of amber and take delight in every moment, but for now I must away again, for there is no time that is lost worth losing and my heart is aching for its vengeance.”

And so he followed down the road and the Knight did take a heavy step, for heavy was his head and heart, but fire was his way of thinking and so his heart went on and on. He came upon a tower made of stone and glass, that spiraled up and up and up, beyond the clouds, beyond the sky and into the endlessness above. At its base was a gate of brass and whispers, old and weary and yet, the Knight could sense the power it held within. Inscribed upon the arch of the gate were runes and symbols that had been lost to the world of now for time unimaginable, but they were all too familiar to the Knight. And he read them now, aloud, to show them their weakness, and his voice it echoed throughout the heavens. “ALL WHO COME HERE COME TO DIE. SUIREN DAR ES VISHTAK DRADJA. ALL WHO COME HERE SEEK THEIR MADNESS. ALLIESH DRIJJ’ECAAX SUIREN TOR RHAHK.”  

The door he faced was high and terrible and yet his face was Stone-Made-Conviction and through expression alone, he threw down the gate with the force of Giants and stepped inside. Before him was a grand chamber with cylindrical walls that spiraled endlessly, covered with maps of marble white and siphoned glass which danced around the shapes of trees in joyous jubilation. Upon each wall there hung a sword and above each sword there was a name that appeared as fire in the sky. But the Knight was not afraid. His heart was still and upon his face was Stern Countenance. Then his eyes became like fire, and his expression was of the Dragons Fury, as he stepped forward and spoke aloud the names of fire on the wall. 

“BIOHRLOHK ZA’AMSTI”

(Light upon a Summers Storm)

“FENNUIIC DEBNEN” 

(The Horn upon the Antlered Crown)

“DRAAKIS SHU’RHEK” 

(Foe-blood Hammer)

“Z’HEJSHO”

(He who fights Odd-Handed) 

“AIDIIS RAH-ZAHM” 

(Dragon of Dew and Lullabies)

Before him now stood 5 men of elder days, each holding the sword that named them. They were arrayed in robes of cloth and hide, and from their sleeves and skirts hung beads and charms and old signs that had not been known for ages long since forgotten. Their hair was long and grey and it hung loosely around their gaunt faces, of which only their eyes could be seen, for their beards were long and knotted with braids and rings of terrible power. They stood now before the Knight and he knew them each for the sword they held and so he knew that they needed an answer. Again the Knight stepped forward and with his step the world shook within, and all the oceans trembled from his might. It is said that all the cities of the coasts were locked then, in battle with the waves, for 7 days and 7 nights, before the peace was known at last. When he stepped forward, the Lords of old took battle stances, and they did so with no knowledge as to why, though it is said the power of the Knight awoke them from their prideful slumber and showed them to that grim conclusion. Now it was the Knight who stood before the Lords and upon his face was Doom. He pulled back his cloak and at his hip there hung his testimony. It shone like golden sunlight that’s been trapped in the morning dew, like the glistening glory that was his crown and they knew that the battle was lost. With a single word he cleaved out their hearts and with his fire, he burned them all to ashes, never to be made again. He took their swords, masterless and empty as they were now and he smashed them again and again, until they too were gone from the world. And then he turned and left that place and continued down the road, whistling a song that is sung in the halls of Kings. 

Chapter 3:

-WICKED/SOVEREIGN-

The sky was dark upon that night and a wrathful storm of clouds and rain lay siege upon the castle walls. But in the castle all was calm. Fires sparked and crackled and above them fine stews and hearty drinks were cooking and all inside were happy. All except for one. The King was absent from the feast for he had fallen to a dark sickness. His mind was plagued with sinister visions and mud filled prophecies and they weighed heavy on his heart so, he lay there in his bedroom chamber and wished for it to end. The Princess had grown troubled by her father’s condition and had sent word for men to search far and wide for a cure for her fathers ailment, but none could be found. More troubling still, the knights she sent did not return, unto the castle on the hill, and they were lost and never found and then were lost again. And so it was on this night that the Princess had decided to set upon her own endeavor and find the cure to death itself. She took her leave from her company and went away into her chambers, biting her tongue with sour tears, and hoped that she would see them again. Her eyes gazed around the room for their last time and she felt a sense of dread beginning, but deep within, her heart burned, with fury and the pain of love. Then her eyes fell upon the chest that held her gift. It was given to her when she was born, by the One who made it and the One who made her. So to was she given name then and it was “Ihihraht Via-Nenin” which is “the Star that shines through Blackest Night”. She pulled it from its sleeping state and hung it there upon her hip, and it was ready to be used. She took one last look at her face, and then she paused for a moment, then turned and smiled softly to herself, and walked through her bedroom door. 

What she saw next was too painful for her memory alone and so lives on eternal as an echo of pain that haunts her mind, like a festering wound that never seems to heal. The vision of the sight before her was as painful as a broken dream, when you are not the dreamer, and so she fell upon her knees, unable to move or speak a word, but in her mind she spun a curse that was so pure and full of hate that it passed beyond the body of limitation and struck true within the Doom Drum, echoing its promise throughout the time-song. 

Before her stood death in form. He was as if the pitch of night was made by flesh and blood, although he was distorted with a darkness that he wore as a cloak and hood, as to obscure his true intentions. There within his shadowed hands was the crown of her father. The crown of the King. He held it as it was his own as he turned now to face the girl and upon his face was hatred. He smiled and raised a hand and before she could react she fell to sleep. The last thing her eyes could see were her fathers eyes, lifeless and transformed, staring down at her as the demon put on the crown and smiled. 

Chapter 4:

-YOU ARE MY WITNESS-

Long ago, before the waters of the world were made and divided and there was nothing else but fire, there was a single heart, alone there, in the darkness. This heart of one was disconnected from the minds that had come before and so it followed a path that was new to even She who made it. And when She saw what She had done, She cast that world and heart asunder, to be eternally confined, there in the darkness of the void. But in that absence of the light, the fire burned by different means and chose a sickness for its purpose. The heart, who was the fire given proper shape, was lost and taken by the sickness, and darkness became all it knew. 

Chapter 5: 

-WATER/WALKING-

The rain fell heavily all around him now. A tumultuous storm it was to say the least. The drops fell as blocks of stone, as they slammed against the tender ground and all around him was darkness. He sat there, under the small sheet of rock that protruded from the base of the mountain and watched the sky above, as it flashed and danced in the lightning and the rain. The Knight had a fondness for storms that had been with him since he could remember. They reminded him of home. But he had taken time enough for resting and the road ahead was longer still, so he left the sanctuary behind and continued down the path beyond. 

Before long he came upon a large river that blocked his path and it swelled and swept and moaned with a glutinous fury, no doubt engorged from the night's storm. Within the center of the river, there sat the likeness of a man, although his face was low and shaped by age and his body was a shriveled vestibule. He had what appeared as long and wild hair that grew to a length that covered his body completely, so that only his arms and legs and face could be seen. In his mouth there was a long thin pipe with a large round bowl at its end and the old man was puffing merrily at the cherried ash within. Stranger still, upon the place that old man sat, the water itself dared not touch, as if in courtesy to the man, as he had no intention of leaving, but he did nothing to disturb it and so it left him be. When the Knight approached the waters edge, the old man stopped his puffing and his wily gaze turned to the man before him. 

“Halt!”

“Halt young Knight and go no further. For this river is no kind master and to cross it will surely mean your death”. 

The Knight stopped and looked for a moment at the old man, then to the river and back again to the man. 

“I am sorry to have disturbed you, friend, but I must cross this river. Do not be afraid, my death will not come here.” 

“Ah, I see, so it seems to you, oh young and bravest warrior, that a river and stream can do no harm to a man arrayed in confidence such as yourself. But I wonder, will your stern mind not simply sink into the blackness, heavy from its ignorance?” 

“Perhaps it is that I am stern, yet steadfast in my way of thinking, for I will cross this river here and now and there will be no stopping me. Not by you nor by water's fury, will I ever cease this path of mine.” 

“Ah, and so it is my young friend. Very well, I shall trouble you no longer. Do as you must and leave this old one to his wondering.” 

And so the Knight took in mighty breath, as he stood before the mighty river, and took a mighty step that fell with the mightiest of thunder, like the trumpets of the Halls of Kings. And there, beneath his feet, the water bent away within itself and touched him not, for water is the blood of the world and is privy to its own. And the Knight he continued, step by step, and when he reached the other side, he turned and waved if for but a moment to the old man on the rock, who erupted now in joyous and hearty laughter, that shook his beard and frizzled hair, and the Knight smiled to himself, and continued on his way. 

Chapter 6:

-ODE TO THE LOST AND FORGOTTEN-

 Morning came rather quickly it seemed, as the first shimmering light of day ripped through the blackened earth with brilliance and awoke all from sleep, man and beast and flower, until the world itself was shaken from wistful slumber and cast, headstrong, into the shallow waters of awake. The Knight had found a place to rest, a flat rock that sat atop a mound of earth, and he had been fast asleep, dreaming of that place he missed so dearly and the path that led him there. But the mighty sun is not privy to the pressures of politeness, nor would it pay them any mind could it even understand and so, it woke the Knight from sleep-mind wondering, for that is all it knows to do.

The Knight sat up, stretched his back and rubbed the sleep from his still twinkling eyes and then he blinked, if only twice, and looked around at the world before him. Fields of greens and verdant blues were splattered here and there with explosions of bright yellow and a bold-bloody redness that shot between the golden centers like lightning, leaving only echoes of crimson upon the tumbling veridian. Once his mind had settled to the waking world and his legs were adjusted to carry him again, he turned and looked one last time at the sky above and then he jumped down from his rock and began again down the lonely path. 

He walked the road for several hours, stopping here and there to take pleasure in the scenery, if  only for but a second, and to smoke his pipe and watch the sky. It was during one of these pleasurable moments, that his peace was interrupted by a sudden eruption of light that blinded him briefly. When his eyes came back to him he saw there, standing before him with a mocking elegance, was a Jinn of ancient life and promise. 

The Jinn floated there, hanging just above the ground, and stared at the Knight with a wicked gleaming eye. He was arrayed in bright fabrics and fine silks from beyond the East and from the fabrics hung golden beads and stones of Ruby and great Emeralds. From his neck hung many pendants of all kinds and they all twinkled with the light of his eyes. Upon his head sat a strange likeness to that of a snake, yet it had 4 feet with claws like daggers, and wings that stretched into the sky above and its eyes were made of dark obsidian that were horrible to look upon. Then he spoke. 

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Greetings Knight from land afar, are you lost or seeking? Do you wish for wine-fed star, or perhaps maidens gently weeping? I am granter of these blessings, each and all are mine to give. Do you wish to sit brave knight? Your heart will guide you to my speaking”.

The Knight gave answer, 

“I will not speak with thee, nor will I ever allow my heart and words to be used by anyone save me and me alone. You are the only one who is lost, you false-pretending specter, now away from this world and trouble us no longer, thy feet shall move as walking rain”. 

The Jinns face soured for a moment, and then his sickly smile returned.

“Would you truly turn away this amiable specter, if you knew what I could speak at your feet? Wishes three I offer thee and you will have no other words with me. Simple choice is what I bring. With you I leave the rest”. 

“You talk of wishes and dreams”, snapped the Knight, “that weakness of which men are all too familiar, yet to lure themselves into their own doom is a pitiful distraction and simply reminds me of your powerlessness. It is within themselves they fall, you are but a gate and key that falls upon their waiting feet. What you offer is possibility without strife and that is lost on those who walk The Path”. 

The smile fell from the Jinns face and his eyes gleamed with anger.

“I offer you a life of living. That which is often cast aside and is so heavenly avoidable. But to mark thy tongue with daggers is to point them at my throat young Knight, of this I am quite certain. Do not take my words for foolish gesture, or I shall fill your mouth with vomiting crows and dance upon the rotting afterthought. Sit and speak with me you will and save yourself from 1000 torments”.

Again the Knight answered, his voice growing to a roar.

“Very well, Foul Decadence, lay forth thy terms and I shall answer with my heart, but know to each I bring a sword and it shall be upon my tongue to rend the gleaming from your eyes. Upon my Heart I give grim promise, that you shall speak with worms and bitter sorrow for time until the end and yours will be a life of regret forever, for in your heart of darkness I will cut the shape of truest shame, to wear as a gift for your choice to cross me. To this duel of words and spirit I submit myself to truest accordance and I expect the same. With this I sign the oath-bound pact that is the Trial of Pain. I leave the first to you”.

The Jinn smiled again.

“As noble a Knight as ever I have seen. Your kindness here is not forgotten. Alas for you I spare no weakness and face you here with true intent. Let us begin. The first and last gift I offer is this, to be a god within the world, as though a mountain was a man with skin of flaming iron, so no harm would ever come to you. Upon the battlefield you would be as a wolf among sheep and there would be none to stand against your might. War to you, a being that is true conquest, would be nothing more than Sovereign Blood-Sport and you would watch with joyous pleasure, as all the weak and powerless came crawling to your mighty feet. This is what I offer you. What say you oh bravest knight”?

The Knight's answer came forth as a great wind and it seemed his voice was that of all men and women in that time. 

“Know that I speak with my heart of hating when you hear these words upon my tongue. TOHK R’HOSHOR HETII TOR RAHK. I decline this gesture of weakness and spit poison upon the ill thought that you have presented. To kill upon the battlefield is to lead by example. Wounds will heal and the mind can be saved by the soothing sleep-magics of the AihShrk Dah Zmmh and yet, death remains the permanent, unwavering and consistent, it never fails its master-who-wields-the-sword. And here you stand to rob me of this glory. You say I would be as god, to walk unbothered by the mortal man and to this I ask you from my heart. Does Goxd not come to walk the land He has made and bask in all before Him that is Him? Does He not return again to whence He came and we are none the wiser? You know nothing and have spoken with a stolen tongue. Though you obscured the essence with your vial ichor, the sour taint of snake-crossed misery was caught upon my waking blade and so I turn it now to you and brook thee this single kindness. Of this I will not speak again if not with my second intention”.

“Ah, so it seems this veiled attempt will have no use”, said the Jinn. “So I withdraw the whisper with a word - Haajeshjjj - and let the warmth wash over you.”

At once the Jinn was gone, like paint that is washed away by wind and in the place where he had been, there was now a Golden Valkyrie of strength and beauty divine. She was adorned in brilliant armor of gold and mithril and silver and all around the armor there was a mosaic of the battles she had won. Inlaid within the carvings in the armor were precious stones of amethyst and sapphire and sparkling diamond. She carried with her a mighty spear that stood tall as a grand white tree and on her back was a golden shield that was as large as the great gate of Zhuul Hana. She introduced herself as Taarna, Shield-Maiden of Rok Gheshj, the Mother of War and then she spoke.

 “I know of you my weary friend, I have seen your footsteps on the doom tread snow and I know where they are going. Take heed to this now. In that land which you are soon to reach, there is sickness that hangs as gentle fog and clings to the mind and traps it there forever. I do not wish to see you fall to this earth my friend, for in you I see the greatness of One Who Sits Upon the Throne. But now I must go. I fear my dealings here will not go unnoticed as I had hoped. Farewell young Knight, and may your path be ever paved with Righteous Blood.”

Chapter 7:

-OH HOW WE FALL-

“Send the priests to fire and wrath and rip the splendor from the Droh’Khazh-Ahdihm until his bones are not but mortal masters. Slip the temple through the doom-craters and behold within a tomb of ill contempt. There is no honor to be found here in this place of fools and thieves, where liars are believed willingly, and cowards sit on idle thrones and play as Masters above it all!”

The words of mud came thundering from the high tower of the castle, hailing down upon the kingdom and filling all the hearts of the people with foul misery. He sat there with wicked power and his visage was of a 6-headed jackal, long-toothed and terrible. Each of its 6 faces were twisted however, in a ferocious fashion, as to give the appearance of some friendly gesture. The hearts of the people faltered then, as they looked upon the grand misery before them, for upon its 6th head, the beast wore the crown of the Old King, and so they sat there, as if frozen by a dream, and watched as their beloved King let out a roar of purest hatred. Then fire erupted from all around them. From the ground it went and it spiraled up and up in massive pillars that danced towards the sickened sky, drowning all in darkness. From the sky came a rain of acid and smoke and foul odor that drew in hordes of rats and other beasts that tore into the men and sent them running for the gates. Then From the fire came forth smoke in form. Terrible things they were, made of wood and sadness and ill-fashioned cinders and they descended throughout the kingdom, slaying all in their path. The Kingdom was in ruin and there was no hope to save it now…

“Father, you know I hate this part, it makes me sad to think of sadness and to feel it in my heart as pain.”

“That is good my Son, it’s good you can feel, HaHaHa! But do not fret, or let your heart be broken, for the night is not yet over and the Knight has yet to come.”

Chapter 8:

-HANDS AS WEAPONS- 

Dark and dreary was the gloom around him. Hollow trees and shapeless fog made courtesy for owls and croaking toads and everything was drenched in foul water. And yet, as he looked out beyond him he saw only The Path and so, he continued on his way. As his feet continued their walking, they noticed that the dew-drenched grass had changed and now they felt the familiar unyielding of stone. This caught the Knight's attention and he stopped and looked around. He waved the smoke of his pipe from his eyes and began to search the stone road before him, walking it with only his eyes, until he came upon its ending. There he saw a terrible thing. At the end of the path was a misanthropic temple, foul and stained with the blood of cursed sacrifice. It was made of stone and dead wood that was rotten and filled with maggots and the walls and roofs were adorned with bones and the viscera of many things, both man and beast alike. From this palace of ill contempt, there oozed the bloody ashes of a long dead Concept, that took shape now as Lord and stood to face the Knight. Then it spoke and its voice was sweet like rotting wine. 

“Woe to you oh knight of night, oh singing hound of heaven. You are second to the shadow, that is to say a weary soul and one of many. And yet you stalk the night as revenant, a shallow seed of discontent and despair becomes your lullaby, as all you are and fought to keep has slipped like smoke between your fingers.”

“What have you done to this place?” snarled the Knight. The figure grinned. 

“It was not I who made this tomb of mine, nor did I wish for its conception. It was a king from land afar who saw my people, weak and helpless and lost in worship. He came to us with gold and stones and mighty weapons of war and dominance, but we were simple and not afraid of men and what they say and so we thanked him for his kindness and sent him off to the shore to never again return. But the king was not a man of honor. His was a heart of snakes and hating, and from our gilded temples and our shining palaces it came. The Rot. It took us one by one into this temple, twisting and tormenting our minds and bodies, until we were broken. We were wholly unable to understand the madness of our new life and many simply gave in to the wrathful powers, choosing to meld their minds within this palace, in hopes it would offer them salvation. They were wrong.” 

The thing took a step forward into the light, so the Knight could see it clearly. It had the likeness of a great man, but twisted and tangled like the roots of a tree. Its skin was green and sickly and hung loosely from gnarled bone that jutted out at horrific angles and when it walked it could only shamble, for its legs appeared to have been broken entirely and now moved like snakes across the ground. It’s face the Knight would not forget, until the time of ending. Like a skeleton it was, yet faceless from centuries of torment. Upon its flesh had been inscribed the truest form of suffering, to lock the minds within forever. And the thing looked at him now with purest hatred as it took its charge, but if for only a moment, the Knight saw sadness in that thing and thought of mercy, but then it came at him again, like a frenzied animal of wrath and hatred and he could see there was nothing else to do. The Knight stepped forth and drew his blade to meet the foul creature and with a word he threw it down and its body crackled with lightning. It looked at him one last time and the Knight could see the eyes of freedom as it thanked him for his forgiveness and sank into the earth and sky forever. The Knight said a soft prayer as he placed his blade back into its scabbard and then he raised his eyes and looked to the horizon before him. He could see beyond the mountains there was a tower, proud and glorious and yet polluted by a thousand shadows. The Knight took a deep breath and began his final journey. 

Chapter 9:

-STAR IN THE DARKEST NIGHT-

She could still hear their screams. It had been 3 days and 3 nights since she had awoken from that dreadful slumber. 3 long and terrible days they were, for in her cell of solitude she was witness to it all. The horror that befell her kingdom was right there before her eyes, yet there was nothing she could do. She had been shackled by her wrists and ankles so that they were outstretched, in some mocking resemblance of a star in the night sky and upon her head had been placed a faceless mask. This mask was special however, made by dark enchantment, so that the wearer within could witness only what the Master intended. Day and night all she could see before her eyes were the ceaseless horrors that had taken her kingdom and her mind echoed with their screams. 

But now a new sound had reached her ears. It started faintly, like the sound of horns or galloping hooves, but then it grew louder and ferocious as a storm. She could hear screams, yes, but these were not the screams of her people. These were the screams of her tormentors. Although she was still being shown the kingdom-fall, in her heart she knew the world had heard her prayer and it had answered. 

The Knight had come. 

Chapter 10:

-XHASHI OF THE WIND AND RAIN-

He stood there, at the base of the steps that led to the highest of the 3 towers and all was still and silent. They could all see him, and although his face was obscured, they knew his name. All around him was a shimmering fire and upon his face, there was Doom.

From the great battlements a voice cried out.

“Send word to the Lord, the Knight is here! Summon the Council of Cataphracts and the 13 and 13 Holy Legions of the Dii A’hdin. Awaken the Great Fire Wyrms from their drunken slumber and the Giants of the Hitherlands, to be as walls that move with death and fire. Let all who swear their Life to Lord, rise now in justice against our foe. The Knight has come. He will not escape.” 

The wind grew heavy now, erupting in a storm that shook the battlements, and sent ripples through the city and throughout the hearts of the men. They were afraid. They knew their Lord was a false witness and a coward playing god for sympathy and with fearful eyes they looked now at the Sword of Truth, glistening in the glorious sunlight, calling for their hearts. Like lighting he went and the gate erupted into flame and splinters. He moved as an arc, like the light of a star and his blade was a butterfly’s wing, lost in the endless dance. He fell men and beasts by the thousands, wielding his sword as a golden fury of fire and as they fell, they arranged into a dueling circle, to be the final battleground. 

At last the killing-song ended and the Knight stood alone. Around him the dead had fallen as a Dread coliseum, a bone-stained theater to be the final proving. He stood there now, encrusted in their gore and foul viscera and raised his blade and hand to the sky together. From deep within his center heart the Knight let loose a roar of divine prospect that shook the very heavens sky, shattering the crystal there. It was the roar of the world itself, manifest as killing-shape, thundering like chosen King. All who heard it were filled with fire at once and those with evil in their hearts were turned, all of them, to smoldering ash. The sound echoed across the land as trumpets and thunder and all was bright and joyful, for the hope of New Liberty had come back to those who had remained righteous in the final days. 

And then the darkness came. 

It started as a black smoke that dribbled from the tall cracked tower, slinking and shaking its way between the broken walls like a whisper. Then a sudden bolt of sickened lightning went screeching across the sky, setting fire to the rotten clouds and rain. Like a demon it was, like a crying baby or a doom tread eagle and it erupted from the highest tower to meet the Knight. He appeared as a great black cloud, thick and oozing and rotten and from his form came dark lightning that ran and returned, poisoning the sky. He had four arms, each ending in a tooth-filled maw, and although he had no legs in shape, he moved on foul tentacles and the spines of cicadas. He had six terrible heads all set in shrieking unison and upon five of them, sat gilded diadem of wicked power. Upon the sixth head of the great beast there sat a shadow of ordination, of rotting razor-stone, the false simulacrum and laughing face of Darkness. He was the False King of Glory and he had come to face the Knight. 

The King stared at the Knight, snarl-jagging and illuminated by the dull fire. His rotting essence drained the very ground of will and where he stepped, pollution stained the soil and tears of rot fell naked from the sky to water hollow graves. He opened his mouths and from them poured a vile ichor that carried his blood-sung words like fog. It went like smoke from his fanged grins and it danced and played like a child upon the ground, moving across the countless corpses and their weapons of war. Then the Knight heard something strange. A soft chanting of a voice, ill with lilac and moon sugar and sweet of rotten juniper berries. As he listened he could hear a choir rising from the smoke, of hatred it was, yet crazed and in a joyous frenzy. He could hear words now, as more and more of his fallen foes gave voice and sword unto the storm. They were taunting him maniacally and a shrieking and singing laughter filled the sky. The shred-ragged corpses of his enemies were then lifted and set, all in mocking profanity and they shaped as one before the Knight, dancing and twirling into the sky as a dread carapace. 

But the Knight was not afraid. 

“This is to be life before my eyes?”, he growled, "So be it.”

The battle-word Hijalti cracked upon the carcass like a war drum, sundering the bones and scattering tooth and nail so that they could never again be reassembled. He drew his mark upon the air before him, to seal it all away forever and then he looked upon the tallest head of the 6-sworn King and spit before him, to show him his weakness. The Didact Prince gave answer then, and a sickly laughter went out of him and shook the world. He looked upon the Knight, snarling before him like a wounded crazteel and he smiled, for he knew the Knight was weary, of this he had made sure. 

“Let us know battle together, oh bravest Knight, that I may strip your corpse dead-rotten and take its lips as mine, to go and speak thy sister the weakness of her heart with your voice.”

Then the Knight drew forth his sword and the King made ready his blade pacts and red drawn symbologies. They turned at last to face each other and the world stood silent all around, like the stillness that hides the storm. The Knight took one last breath of freedom and plunged himself into the darkness. A miasma went up around the battlefield, engulfing all in shadow, but the blade of Liohkrash, which is The Glorious Dawn, shone blazing like an ember and cut the darkness from the world exposing the Void King and forcing an answer. It came as a great black sword that ripped through the fabric of the world, shouting its mantle across the sky. It was AHRNEPHAXX, the blade of Kings, which is The Holy Bloodied Orphan of Majesty and yet, the blade itself had been perverted by its master, to better fit the heart he bore. And so it had taken a new name, Ziha’ahdra, which is, He who is first and only. Then the King smiled, for his blade had struck true and the Knight fell to motionlessness. His legs and left arm had been cleaved away by the strike completely and his will was all but destroyed. The King stood above him and spoke, his voice filled with daggers. 

“You have failed Xhashi Curse-Treader. Your doom was spelt upon my lips when the world first spat you forth and called your name Damnation. See now that there is no strength that can stand before a true King. You are mighty, mightiest of all who stalk the battlefield, yet mine is Blood-Earned Ceremony. To feast upon the battlefield and watch them run and die before me, it is my birthright, my divinity manifest! I am god above it all and you, oh Knight, are but a whisper on the wind.” 

With dying eye the Knight looked up to the stars and to the heavens above. He took in breath and smiled for a moment before he spoke. 

“You are wrong. Though you have felled me and destroyed my body with your blade and magics I remain the constant. The Curse that made me is beyond me now. It is beyond you too. Surrender now to me and be spared Her cruel judgment.”

Then the Knight erupted into wild flames of gold and saffron and emerald and the flames went up from him and all around and rid the world of darkness. With his dying breath the Knight laughed proudly and his flaming hand was outstretched beyond the King. 

“Pray for mercy now”, he bellowed, and he spoke aloud a prayer of Divine Power. “I pass my heart and wisdom to you Nenin. Send this False Pretender to the Abyss”. 

Suddenly, the King heard a great rumbling from behind him. Like a thousand thunderstorms it was, like the coming of a host, like the armies of the world itself and a voice came with it, shouting, “Blessed be the Knight of Night, oh heart of warmth and wonder. Guide my waiting blade to rest in darkness and purge this evil from the world!” The King turned to face the voice with fear growing in his heart and he readied his blade into killing shape. But he was too late. His strike was met with a fury unbridled and his mighty sword was cracked and splintered and fell useless upon the ground. A blade of pure silver flashed between his heads, removing all but the last, leaving shaming scars upon the final face. The figure before the King now spoke and it’s voices were of fire. 

“I am Xhal’I Nenehx-Ra, blade of death and silver promise. Shazrajes Jouyned Ggfrrag. Aji tal Quetzi. Bahashraza val Twimet. Fire has burnt my shackles away and I have pulled my mask from my face. I am free now from that torment and will suffer you no mercy. You are Sickness made as man and mightiest among us, but you remain now as man and I have come to kill you.” 

And she did raise her sword then, skyward to the heavens and let out a final roar of Liberty as she plunged the blade through the Beasts wicked heart, setting him ablaze with holy fire and erasing him from the world forever. 

The battle was over and the Princess now stood alone. She could see clearly the destruction that befell her kingdom and so, she was taken by grief and fell to the ground and began to weep. As she wept, her tears fell from her chin, splashing to the scarred ground and where her tears fell, there grew great gardens of flowers and sweet berries that attracted all manner of animal and insect and bird of the sky. Then the flowers called to her and said, “Weep not Via-Nenin for yours is the truest heart of good. Behold the rebirth of the land and all the creatures that have returned. Behold the sun and trees are here, for you have driven darkness from this land forever. With my soft voice I have made you. I have bestowed you with great gifts, so that you may protect my children always from the darkness. Behold, for you are Mighty Via-Nenin, High Majesty of All."

And from that day henceforth was the world remade and all was good and true again, for in the Castle on the hill there ruled the Queen of purest heart, holding darkness forever at bay. 

-The End-