Page 38 of The Last Knight

His legs moved of their own accord, carrying him from the throne room. Every nerve in his body sang with electricity, his fingertips tingling as raw energy surged beneath his skin, lightning caged in flesh.

“Taste it—our power, exquisite and unending. We are legions. We are everything.” The voices slithered around him, hissing in a malevolent chorus. Could the others hear them? Or was madness wrapping its claws around his mind?

Gunther’s thoughts spun, with warning bells and fear. This isn’t right. This will not end well.

He tried to stop, to think, to resist. But his body ignored him. It was like an empty vessel now, marching forward as if pulled by invisible chains.

The loss of control was more than unsettling, it was horrifying. Yet even as he struggled, the dam inside him burst. The power he’d barely restrained came rushing in, a storm of dark magic, crashing over him in waves of rapture. The rush was so intense, so euphoric, his body shuddered from the force of it.

He reached the balcony.

With a cry that was more beast than man, Gunther threw his arms skyward. Blazing streaks of multicolored light, crimson, amber, gold shot from his fingers, making arcs across the night sky. Circles spun and collided, long cords of energy whipped and danced like cosmic fire.

From deep within, a guttural growl erupted, shaking the air. He lifted his arms again, this time unleashing a torrent so bright the reflection painted the courtyard in violent color.

Below, the Torant warriors had already gathered. Beasts, centaurs, and conjured warriors alike. They stood in awe, weapons raised as the darkness circled them with unholy hunger.

Then, as one, the chanting began.

“Hail our Ruler. Hail the darkness.”

Over and over, a thunderous chant that shook the stones beneath them. Boots stomped like war drums, the rhythm feverish, unstoppable.

And at the heart of it all, Gunther stood, no longer merely a man.

He was the storm.

He was the weapon.

“It is time. Release more. Allow the power to consume you.” Inside his head, the darkness’ voices sounded louder than the chanting.

He formed the word “no” in his mind, but his lips did not obey. “Yes.”

At the response, his body exploded into fragments of power, each part sending pulses of bliss through him.

Letting out a primal yell, he waved his hands over the warriors.

Screams sounded as one by one, the conjured fell to the ground and began convulsing, each body splitting in half, puddles of blood pooling under them. Dark pools of blood, soon covering most of the ground.

The two halves of each conjured writhed, wiggling like snakes. Then the halves split once again and then again. The conjured became six grotesque writhing pieces of flesh.

In a matter of moments, the creatures began transforming, first a head sprouting, then arms and finally legs. Within minutes, the creations struggled to stand, quivering as their bodies thickened, becoming muscular, human-like warriors, each one identical in features. Dark hair, a prominent square jaw, prominent brow, and thick necks.

Eventually rows and rows of conjured stood naked, their bodies pale in contrast to the dark surroundings, bare feet reddened by the spilled blood. The conjured were created to fight, powerfully built, their facial features twisted into the scowls of killers. They were the perfect weapons, impervious to the cold, strong and powerful and more importantly, without conscience or emotions.

Deep guttural barks of laughter overtook Gunther, his body completely taken over by a sensation he’d never known, the taste so sublime, he already craved more.

When he turned, the generals did their best to hide their expressions of satisfaction. Gunther chuckled, looking at them each in turn.

“If anyone is going to conquer another realm, it will be me. At dawn, I will declare war on the Yorian Realm.”

The darkness within reveled. “Yes. War. Yes. Death.”

Finally, he understood the appeal of evil. Nothing could match the dizzying satisfaction of allowing it free rein.

Nothing could compare to the beauty of the darkness within him.

Gunther snapped his fingers, and both generals toppled over and began clawing at their necks, fighting against an invisible vise that squeezed.