The Kingscourge

The hauntingly beautiful war chants of the Eldrin horde could be heard coming from beyond the city walls. The horde at the gate ruined what otherwise would have been a peaceful summer night in Goldara.

Damien’s stomach turned at the sound of it, but the fire in his heart raged more fiercely than it ever had. He had done it, he had successfully carved a bloody path through the kingdoms, and led the Eldrin right where he wanted them. Tonight his gamble began.

He brushed back his unkempt white locks, as he peeked into the castle’s audience chamber from above. A large banner of the Holy Kingdom of Goldara hung on the back wall, sitting above the proud King Stahl. Everyone appeared to be in place, as he had expected. The Lords of the surrounding cities and towns were present, as well as the few surviving lords from the southern kingdoms. Surprisingly, even the king of Duskhaven, King Alphonse, had made it for the meeting today. He sat in a chair near King Stahl, nervously fidgeting with one of his ten golden rings and visibly shaking. The fall of his kingdom had not been kind to him, his hair had all but completely fallen out, and it looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Served him right. 

“He’s less of a coward than I thought. I expected him to be hiding in a hole somewhere in the Hallowed Mountains.” Damien muttered to himself, stifling a laugh.

Queen Freya’s eyes went wide as she began to stir next to him. She tried kicking her feet and freeing herself but to no avail, Damien had bound her so tightly that even he might have had trouble freeing himself in her situation. He’d be able of course, but it’d have been harder than usual.

Damien gently pulled her back into a sitting position. He lowered the black scarf that covered the lower half of his face and looked into her eyes. She immediately froze with a look of recognition.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this, but you have to go too. This world is due for a reset, you can blame your traitorous husband and his friends for that.”

Judging by the look in her eyes, Damien knew that she understood what he meant. She slowly slumped her head forward and knowing she couldn't escape him. She shed a few tears in the process, knowing these were likely to be her last moments.

Damien stood and tightened the buckles on his dark leather tunic. He raised his scarf back into position and double checked his preparations for the attack. His Shadowmarks were still present and dormant on each door leading to the audience chamber. The room contained fifty-three Goldaran lords, forty-two foreign lords, and only thirty guards. Closing his eyes, he focused on his surroundings and could hear the Hero’s party on their way. Judging by their pace, they had received his letter and would be here to stop him in a few minutes. He was ready to begin.

He grabbed the limp queen and walked her to the portion of the roof that was right above the table where the king sat. With the wave of his hand, a dark light manifested and circled around them, drawing a black and glistening circle. He gripped his dagger and swung to slit the Queen's throat. Blood splattered on the circle and it ignited in black flame before she could react to the strike. With the snap of his fingers, the ground beneath them was engulfed in his dark flames and immediately disintegrated, followed by his Shadowmarks igniting all over the room. The Queen crashed down into the King’s marble table.

The room grew silent for a moment, quickly followed by panicked screams as they saw the assassin, his arms crossed and making a controlled descent into the room while standing on magical shadows he had conjured. The guards charged Damien like a pack of starving rats, desperate to avenge the Queen. Nobody would be getting that honor today.

The guards swung viciously, but Damien dodged with ease. He danced around the guards with the ease of a master swordsman dueling a group of toddlers. For every sword that swung towards him, two more guards fell to Damien’s daggers. When the final guard stood before him, there was fear in his eyes, yet he charged. It was futile and stupid, but Damien couldn't begrudge him for it. He slipped his dagger into the gap between the soldier's helm and breastplate, and held him as he bled out, gently lowering him to the ground.

“You fought honorably. I hope you choose better masters next time around.”

Damien let him go. Everybody in the room had fled to the other side in a vain attempt to escape. His Shadowmark’s flames prevented anybody from reaching the doors. The few who did try to cross were instantly burnt and turned to dust. Should they manage to somehow cross the flames, they’d be in for a rude awakening when they’d realize the flames simply powered a spell that kept the doors immobile. Many tried to find other ways out, but some had simply turned in horror, watching Damien surgically dispatch the guardsmen.

Damien turned to face the king as he began drawing power from the fresh corpses surrounding him. Blood rose to form a dense ball in his hand that gradually seemed to darken, and then ignite into dark flames. He wanted to watch Stahl as every last bit of hope was crushed by him at that moment. Predictably, King Alphonse already left his side and was trying to escape with the other lords. This left King Stahl alone, holding his dead wife in his arms.

“What the hell have you done?” Stahl screamed in a pained voice.

“Something that was long overdue.”

Damien brought his hands together and violently stretched the flames in his hand before throwing it high above him where it erupted and doubled in size and ferocity. The sound of the eruption shattered all the glass in the room, meanwhile, fiery black arrows shot from the flames and rained upon the lords trying to escape. The arrows made short work of them and they all fell. Their veins turned black, like a dark web spreading from where they were shot. Any who survived the initial hits quickly succumbed to the dark power that spread within them.

He walked towards the king, watching his rage gradually turn into despair as he stuttered incoherently, then dropped his wife.

“What’s this? The mighty King Stahl is too scared to speak?”

Damien’s cold, dead eyes were locked onto Stahl like a panther stalking its prey as it readied to pounce. He stepped in, grabbed him by that collar and violently pulled him up to his face with such force that the king's crown went flying. He lowered his scarf and revealed himself to him. Stahl’s eyes went wide.

“You… You cornered our Kingdom, toppled world order, and ruined everything... All because of our petty squabbles?” The king asked, barely choking out the question.

“Petty squabbles… Is that what that was to you?” Damien’s knuckles went white. The question had been the drop that broke the dam.

“Do you realize the horrors that were inflicted on my family by the Eldrin because of you? The agony my sister went through when they did unspeakable things to her and I was forced to watch, powerless to save her?” Damien yelled, bringing his face even closer.

“W- We didn’t have a choice!”

“Like hell you didn’t have a choice! If you had just kept your word, the Eldrin threat would already be over!”

Damien threw him to the ground and knelt above him. He raised his dagger and before the Stahl could object, he brought it crashing down.

“You did this to yourself, you opportunistic pig!” He punctuated every word by bringing the dagger crashing into him again.

The king went limp, and light in his eyes went out. Damien knelt in silence. Drenched in blood and overcome by emotion, yet not feeling any of it. He just felt… Numb. Everything he had done, was all for this... Yet he couldn't feel anymore. It took some time before he came to, and heard banging on the door to the chamber. The hero was here.

“I have nothing left... It's over.”

He looked to the dead king, then over to the queen.

“The Eldrin served their purpose, but I can’t bring myself to save the innocents who are left… Someone else could.” Damien dropped his dagger and put his hands in the air. He dismissed the spell sealing off the room.

The moment the hero and his party burst into the room, Damien’s gamble began. It would be suicide, but last shred of decency in him forced him to do it. Damien shouted across the room.

“I invoke the law of the Otherborn.”