Page 1 of Where Darkness Falls

On a misty and gloomy night,a handsome soldier marches through the narrow, dark corridors of the cursed Palace of Nightmares. The dreary obsidian walls cascade higher into severe jagged arches as a thick gray mist settles along the expanse—swallowing up the light rather than being illuminated by it. The sound of wails and moans of the haunted spirits grow quieter as the somber man passes by. It’s as if the spirits know that he is the one they should fear: a ruthless High General to a wicked king.

As a boy, the High General was trained to become a weapon to win bloody wars and create destruction wherever he went.

“Death’s Shadow,”the king’s subjects whispered as he rode by.

“A demon… a monster,”they’d say, fearfully wondering which of their towns the High General would destroy next on behalf of the vile king.

Perhaps they were right to fear him.

Yet, there is more to this powerful general than meets the eye. Before he became the monster, he was just a quiet, kind boy with dreams like any other child. He wished to use his abilities to better the realm rather than be the force to cause its downfall. If one were to look deep within his soul, they would find that he commits to memory every devastation and fearful look of his victims, for they haunt his dreams.

For if he outwardly showed remorse about the atrocities he committed, it would indeed proclaim his weakness to the king.

His life was engulfed in darkness. So, the demon he became, leaving the once kind boy buried within the recesses of his mind.

His strides are long as he climbs the deep onyx stairs to the main entrance of the Grand Hall. The balusters are beautifully crafted from a mixture of dark oak and bronze. The horizontal designs are symmetrical and add balance to the architecture of the elongated stairs. A sudden chill takes over his body, the cool temperatures settling over the palace at this late hour. He picks up his pace as the beating within his chest falls in sync with his ominous steps.

Thump… thump… thump.

Every thud of his boots against the marble floors reminds him of the drums that the executioner plays when a life is taken for the pleasure of the king. It is a haunting cadence that starts off slowly, with one mallet striking the drum. Then another. By the third, the musician picks up the pace, drumming faster and faster as the prisoner—who’s bound and blindfolded—is thrown into the center of the arena. When the cadence meets the crescendo of its tune, the beasts from the darkest parts of the Abyss descend and feast on their victim’s flesh and soul. The execution is over almost as quickly as it began.

This is how my life has felt over the past ten years, Emyr thinks to himself.I’m only one drum cadence away from death.

Thump… thump… thump.

The High General’s heart is in turmoil as he ponders the reason the king desires to meet at such a late hour. It is rare for his royal highness tosend the Scythe, his right-hand demon, to call upon the High General—especially after he recently returned from a battle.

An hour before, three sharp bangs on the door woke the High General from his light sleep. Reaching for his blade on the chair near his bed, he slowly walks toward his entry door. Once it is opened, he finds Domhnall on the other side. Unlike most of the soldiers in the Nightmare Palace, the general never cowers under Domhnall’s scrutiny or supposed power.

Perhaps this is why he was promoted to High General merely three years ago.

“General Emyr. Hisss Majesty requiresss your presencccee in hisss study immediately. It’sssss urgent,”Domhnall hissed.

Domhnall, also referred to as the Scythe, is a soulless creature of death that can only be described as a being conjured from one’s worst nightmares. His body is tall and skeletal with four jagged claws where fingers should be, and a face with two deep cavities for a nose. It is accompanied by decaying flesh and tendons that move and flex whenever the creature speaks in its serpentine, otherworldly voice. The most disturbing features of Domhnall are his eyes, which are the color of dark crimson blood. His gaze makes even the most well-honed soldier squirm under his scrutiny. It feels as if he can glimpse into one’s soul.

Domhnall is as creepy as he is ruthless, with an unquenchable thirst for power. He’s been the king’s advisor over the last decade, steering the king into bloody wars and chaos. A vicious poison to an even deadlier king who needs no encouragement in his cruelty.

A union that the depths of the Abyss have craved.

“Well, it must be, if His Majesty requests I be woken in the dead of night. By all means, I don’t need rest. I’m just a weapon at your disposal,”the High General deadpans.

“You would defy the orderssss of the king?”the Scythe replies.

“Oh, come now. Of course not. I just don’t understand why our king wants all of us to be hideous, like you. Some of us need our rest to stay this good looking. However, I doubt resting would do you much good,Domhnall. You are hideous, regardless of what you do,”the High General retorts with a smirk.

“Hisssss Majesssssty hassssss no ussseeee for your exxxcusssseesss, boy,”Domhnall hisses.“Be in hisssss study in precisseeely fifteen minutessss if you value ssleeeeppping ever again.”

Then, in a swirl of black vapor, the creature vanishes as if he were never there.

“Bloody urchin,”Emyr murmurs to himself as he dresses in a dark maroon tunic and leather slacks.

The High General clears his head of the recent memory just as a yawn overcomes him.

The king really should learn how to sleep,he thinks as he approaches the king’s study.Why, of all the cursed nights, would I need to be summoned this late?

The soldiers straighten their stances, attempting not to fidget with their black uniforms.

“Ellis. Jasper,”Emyr says in greeting.

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