Knight of Shadow, King of Darkness



He was a figure clothed in night, adorned in armor of black, riding fearlessly on his frightening steed. The mount panted heavily, nostrils flared wildly, eyes stark and wide. They crested a rocky hill, the ominous towers rising into their view.


The knight hauled the horse to a stop, the animal squirming feverishly under him as he took a slow overview of the desolate scene. That pale light flickered from the highest window, its sleepy hue brightened silver.


A confirmation.


He dug his sharp heels into his charger's dark flesh and the horse lurched forward, leaping into the air. The equine took on his impressive reptilian form; he unfurled giant bat wings, hoof became claw, thick scales rippling over ragged hair. The dragon-like beast stretched out his extended neck and roared with fearsome exuberance, all while his rider maintained his study seat.


Man and beast rode airborne, circling the tower's craggy peaks. The knight gracefully dismounted as the scaly steed passed by the glowing window, jumping onto its precarious sill. Adjusting his chest plate, he stepped from the ledge to the floor.


There she stood, frozen in her glass box. She stared unblinkingly forward, unfazed by the Shadow Knight's oppressive presence. 


"Aura," he grumbled from behind his armored mask. She held her stubborn gaze, looking off and away from him. Irritable, his voice rose,"Aura, awaken! I am in no mood to play your games."  


"Melanion," her lips slowly parted, the single word, however beautiful, was said with airy disdain. Her lashes fluttered with life, though still she refused to acknowledge him. "I thought you were finished with visiting me? Why are you here, Melanion?"


Fuming, he stepped before her propped-up casket and blocked her view so that she looked directly into him. "How dare you address me so personally, witless Witch?" Melanion snapped, his armor bristling angrily. "I have half a mind to destroy you. I am Knight of Shadow, King of Darkness, your captor and ruler, and shall be addressed as such."


Met with only silence and a glazed, unabsorbing gaze, he turned on his heel and marched briskly to the window. He could not stand being so close to her, that pure light source, without feeling weak.  


"Whatever you wish, Your Highness," said Aura. "But if His Grace would be so kind to answer my question?"


"The Sword of Syv'Awendale," Melanion murmured, unmoved by her clear mockery. He simply turned to face her, "It has been discovered?"


"Ah, that is the reason," She said. Aura answered only when he gave an arch raise of the brow; a threatening, impatient expression. "Yes. It indeed has been found."


"By who?"


The End

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