Shadows of the crown

Chapter 8: Decent into darkness

The chill of the shadows clung to Evans long after the voices had faded, their whispering echoing in the far reaches of his mind. It had been three nights since that terrifying encounter in his chambers, and he had not slept since. He was too afraid of what might come in the silence of the night, too fearful of what he might become should he let his guard down, even for a moment.

Jorin kept pace, his attentive company a reminder of the steadfastness Evans had always relied upon. Yet the farther on Evans pressed, the more the kingdom shrouded its mysteries. Figures flitted at the edges of his sight, never quite in focus, melting away the instant he turned toward them. This crown, now locked deep in the furthest vault of the castle, still called to him; its faint presence a tug deep in his chest.

The whispers and his mind seemed to be indistinguishable from each other. He could no longer draw a line between his sanity and whatever nightmare his life had become. The council still wasn't aware of the true danger that was looming over the kingdom. The mutation of the curse, once thought to be broken, was coming after him.

"Evans," Jorin's voice sliced through the fog of his thoughts, returning him to the present. They were in the war room, the walls covered with maps detailing the kingdom and territories beyond. Some of the council sat around the large table, talking fortifications and defenses with solemn faces. Astera may have survived the shadow's first attack, but there was a growing sense of unease, like people waited for something worse to come over the horizon.

"What is it?" Evans asked, his voice distant.

"The emissary from the northern provinces," Jorin said, furrowing his brow. "He brings word of something. strange. Something dark."

Evans straightened. "Tell me."

He hesitated before speaking, voice low enough that only Evans could hear. "The villages that are closer to the mountains are reporting some very strange occurrences: livestock disappearing and whole families vanishing into thin air. And people have begun to report figures in the distance-cloaked in shadow, their eyes aglow."

Evans's heart sank. The shadow was spreading. He had hoped--prayerfully--that shutting the crown away would be enough to contain its influence, but it was clear now that the curse was far more insidious than he'd realized.

"I need to go there," Evans said suddenly, his voice firm.

The council members stopped talking and turned towards him. Jorin frowned. "Are you sure that's wise? You're still recovering from--"

"There's no time," Evans cut in, the edge in his voice sharper than he had meant. He looked around the room, faces of the council hazy in his head. "If this shadow is expanding, I must see it myself. I need to know what we are confronting."

The throat clearing of one of the elders among the councilors, a man named Darius, stirred the air. "Your Majesty, if I may be so bold, this is not something you should face alone. We can send soldiers, scouts, to investigate."

Evans shook his head, resolve hardening. "No. I'll go with a small company. I must be there, Darius. This is my fight. If the darkness is tied to the crown, then it's tied to me."

The council shifted uneasily but said no more. Jorin nodded slightly, recognizing that a decision was reached. Loyal, yet a flicker in Jorin's features spoke volumes to Evans of the questioning in his friend's mind as to whether this course of action was right. Yet Evans knew there was little choice, not if he was to be able to find and fight the darkness at its source.

Within the hour, plans were laid to head north. The small detachment of soldiers was assembled: ten of Astera's finest knights, sworn to the crown and battle-hardened. Still, however, as the soldiers began to saddle up, preparing their gear, Evans couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that no amount of steel or skill would be protection enough from what lay ahead.

It was a hard journey, for the north road was all uneven land, and the farther up the mountain they went, the thinner and colder the air turned. Every step was heavier, and it seemed as though the landscape darkened with every further go. It was as if the very earth had been tainted by the shadow's presence.

The villages they passed were silent, the doors of cottages barred, and windows covered. Nobody was seen greeting them, and those few faces they saw peered out from behind the curtains, their eyes wide with fear. It was suffocating; a deep sense of foreboding settled over them.

On the third day, they came to a village that once teemed with life. Now, it was no more than a graveyard. Evans dismounted his horse, scanning his eyes over the desolate scene before him. Houses stood abandoned, open doors as if their occupants fled in a panic. Once-brimming crops in the fields were barren; the soil was black and dead.

They spread out, seeking even the merest sign of life. None was found. The village was deserted, and the silence was thick.

Jorin approached, his face pale. "There's no one here, Evans. It's like they vanished."

Evans strolled leisurely across the village square, his eyes falling on a well in the center. The stones were smeared with a sort of strange, dark residue. As he drew closer to it, the faint sound of whispering reached his ears once more. A chill ran down his blood.

"Do you hear that?" Evans asked in a whisper.

Jorin frowned. "Hear what?"

"The whispers." Evans trailed off, his hand clenching a little tighter around the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, the earth beneath them had lurched. A low rumble came from beneath the ground, and soldiers were scrambling to have their weapons out as the ground started to shake violently.

"Get back!" Jorin yelled, tugging Evans back from the well.

But it was too late.

The well exploded in a column of black smoke, and from it emerged a towering figure, shrouded with shadow. Its body was twisted and grotesque, its eyes aglow with fire, just like the one in the throne room. The soldiers fell back, flashing their eyes in fear.

The rumble of the creature's voice sounded much like thunder. "You cannot escape the darkness, prince. It is inside you."

Evans's heart ran as the creature moved closer, towering over him and casting a long shadow. He drew his sword but knew it would be all but useless. This was no ordinary enemy.

"You are already mine," it hissed, its voice rumbling in Evans's mind.

He tried to control his breathing as his head raced. The crown, the shadow, was inside him. The creature was not just attacking the kingdom; it attacked him.

The creature launched itself forward with a roar. Evans simply raised his sword to face the darkness head-on.