Page 2 of Where Darkness Falls

They bow at the waist before their leader.“High General Emyr,”they say in unison.

Emyr raps his knuckles on the dark oak door of the study.

Knock! Knock!

As Emyr waits, he takes in all the details of the study door. It’s beautiful and intricate, in an eerie sort of fashion. A tall, pointed arch at the apex of the door brings a level of malevolence to its design. The wood is sanded in a way that makes it appear more rustic than it actually is, with carvings of creatures only the Drakhul is capable of siring. The carvings display demon-like creatures with long, pointed teeth, snarling lips, and bloodlust-filled irises. The depictions are typically of the creatures from the Abyss, torturing some poor soul.

If they’d been of something with a little more grandeur, I might’ve enjoyed the craftsmanship of such detail,Emyr thought to himself.

“Enter,”echoes the king’s voice fromwithin the study.

Emyr takes a deep breath and quickly slips on his mask of indifference as the heavy door swings open. The study is ominous. Much like the rest of the palace, it is designed with a mixture of dark oak, bronze, and alabaster. Floating candles illuminate the space just enough to give the study a foreboding appearance. It’s wide, with cavernous walls that are lined from floor to ceiling with books on war strategy, cartography, philosophy, and history. The shelves are enchanted to bring a reader the topic they most desire. One simply must think about what they wish to know, and if there is a book that matches the topic, the book will materialize before the seeker of such knowledge.

Emyr’s gaze roams to the figure standing in the center of the study—King Tiernan, running fingers through his hair as he studiously examines the papers on the round mahogany table before him. As always, Domhnall stands to his right to ensure that anyone who draws near the king knows who has his listening ear.The king slowly lifts his head to acknowledge his High General’s arrival. Though his stature is slightly less than the High General, King Tiernan is a man of nearly six feet, four inches, with short, coiffed ebony hair and a dazzling smile. His bright amber eyes, a trademark of all Galrosans, have a way of unraveling hidden secrets. Compared to their usual spark for greed and bloodlust, his eyes are unusually haunted. While his youthful appearance allows him to look no older than twenty-five, he’s three-hundred years old, due to his Galrosan heritage.

Tonight, he dons a rich tunic of deep burgundy, with a gold-plated chain draped across his shoulders. He looks fearsome and sinister, with only the planes of his face illuminated in the dim light.

Emyr bows his head in reverence.“You sent for me, Sire?”he asks.

A smirk teases at the corner of Tiernan’s mouth. Always a flair for the dramatics, Tiernan enjoys signs of submission to his power. Tiernan is clever and wicked, definitely not someone a person desires for an enemy. He’s like the wolf amongst the sheep—deadly when provoked.

“General Emyr,”the king’s velvety voice calls. “I am pleased you could join us at this latehour.”

The king’s manner of speaking is reminiscent of a time long forgotten.

It appears you’re the only one,Emyr thinks.

The king gestures to the table.“Please, come join us,”he says softly.

Tiernan watches the High General’s every move as he draws near.“I trust your latest escapade went well,”he inquires, looking back down to the papers in front of him.

“If you consider the destruction of your enemies a success, then yes, my liege, it went well,”Emyr replies with perhaps more snark in his tone than intended. The High General can’t help his reaction in his sleep-deprived state, however.

The thought of his lastescapadesours his stomach. His orders were to crush a small faction of Malvorians who allegedly followed the prophecy of the Na Fíréin. No one, not even women or children, were spared.

Slowly, the smirk that appeared on the king’s lips fades as his sharp amber eyes blaze with an iridescent glow.“They are not just my enemies,”he says, taking a step toward Emyr.

“They are our enemies.”

Another step.

“They are this empire’s enemies.”

The king stops just a breath away before he continues to speak, in a lethal tone, barely above a whisper. “Anyone who opposes my rule must be snuffed out. It would serve you well to remember that fact, High General.”

This is not going well,Emyr thinks.

The High General bows, placatingly. “Forgive me, Your Highness. It was a careless slip of the tongue. I’ve just arrived six hours ago but had only slept an hour when your Scythe summoned me. My priority is to serve you and this illustrious empire you have built.”

Tiernan’s cold eyes bore into Emyr, as if trying to see any deception within the general’s words. Emyr stares back, willing himself not to be the first to break eye contact.

I am the High General after all. I break before no man or creature—including theking I serve,Emyr thinks.

They stand there for one heartbeat… then two…

Finally, the king releases a breath. “Never forget your place in my presence again, General Emyr. Remember that I made you what you are, and I can easily unmake you.”

The venom of his threat rings true.

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