The knights returned to the capital under the cover of darkness, their armor scratched and soot-stained from the wilderness. Tension hung in the air as they approached the palace gates—none dared speak until they were standing in the shadow of the throne.
When they delivered the news, the court fell into silence.
"The goddess," one of the senior knights reported, lowering his head, "has been seen with monsters. The trolls of the mountain range have accepted her. She's... taken refuge among them."
Murmurs broke out across the hall, the nobles exchanging uneasy glances. A goddess consorting with beasts? It sounded like heresy. But the king said nothing—only raised a hand to dismiss the knights. There was no surprise in his eyes. He had been expecting it. Waiting for it.
Their suspicions, it seemed, had been confirmed.
Just as he had once ordered the slaughter of the elves, he now turned his focus elsewhere.
"The dwarfs," the king said coldly. "Purge them next."
He walked alone down a dim, spiraled corridor into the deepest part of the palace, where even the bravest guards refused to linger. At the end of the passage was a room unlike any other—a circular vault of smooth, dark stone that pulsed faintly with unnatural energy.
Inside, a voice was waiting.
"How useless you are."
It was not spoken, but thundered in his mind—echoing through the bones of the chamber.
"I gave you a kingdom, power, and wealth. I placed the world at your feet. And yet... all you can offer me is the blood of lowly elves and pitiful dwarfs? Is this what you call sustenance?"
The king fell to one knee, trembling. "Forgive me, great one. I did not expect her to be aided by beasts."
"Excuses."
The air thickened. Shadows moved of their own accord.
"Find the goddess. I will not be merciful if you fail again."
Then, something stirred from the darkness—a writhing object wrapped in living tendrils. It floated toward the king and throbbed with a sinister pulse.
"Here. Take this."
"This is the Seed of Darkness."
The king reached out, hesitating for only a moment before taking the grotesque seed in both hands.
"Plant it outside your kingdom's border. Let it drink the blood of forty knights. Once it feasts, it will birth my children. You will summon them with this chant:"
The voice whispered something incomprehensible—words that hurt the king's ears just to hear. Blood welled from his nose, and his knees nearly gave out.
"They will rise again."
"My perfect knights—soulless, tireless, unbound by mortal limits. They will match the trolls blow for blow. And they will drag the goddess back to us."
The king bowed deeply, his head nearly touching the black stone floor. "I understand."
"Do not fail. If you do… I will burn this kingdom down to its bones. Not one soul will be spared."
The vision faded. The room fell silent once more.
The king staggered out of the chamber, clutching the Seed of Darkness like a sacred relic. Without rest, he summoned his commanders and handpicked forty knights—his strongest, most loyal, most expendable.
They rode beyond the kingdom's borders, to a clearing at the edge of a dead forest. There, in a shallow pit of ash and bone, the king planted the Seed of Darkness.
The sky dimmed. The wind stopped.
And then, the screaming began.
The knights howled in pain as black vines burst from the soil, wrapping around their limbs, piercing their flesh, and dragging them under. The ground trembled. Blood soaked into the earth.
The king watched without blinking.
One by one, they were consumed.
Then, from that pit, they rose again.
Not as men.
As monsters.
Forty figures cloaked in blackened armor, with eyes like burning coals and swords forged from cursed iron. No breath. No hesitation. Only hatred and purpose.
The king smiled.
"Go," he commanded. "Find the goddess. Bring me the vessel. And let the world see what happens when divinity betrays its purpose."
And with that, the black knights turned toward the horizon—toward the mountains where the goddess hid marching like a storm with no mercy.