Page 19 of The Last Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #5)

Chapter Thirteen

T here was treachery thick in the air—Gunther could feel it coiling like a venomous snake around him.

Let the generals play their petty games.

Did they truly believe he wouldn’t sense their betrayal?

That he, the most powerful being across all realms, would fall to something as crude as a blade in the back?

Fools.

He'd read Meliot’s tomes cover to cover, each one a chilling foretelling of deception and blood. He’d expected this. The Torants were nothing if not predictable, faithless creatures with no concept of honor. In their world, a knife sunk in while a back was turned was as natural as breathing.

But they’d made one fatal mistake: thinking Gunther could be taken down like any other man.

“ Kill them. Butcher their bodies. Do it while our warriors watch,” the Darkness demanded, a delectable fury simmering just under the surface of his foremost thoughts. “The strength of the darkness is yours .”

“Gunther, as you can see, it is urgent that more warriors be conjured immediately,” Kel stated, his eye looking somewhere past Gunther’s left shoulder. “The threats on our western border grow with each passing day. Our current guard force is growing tired.”

Whether the threat was real or not, Gunther doubted the situation was as dire as the generals were portraying it to be.

“I will go myself. It is not that I do not wish to conjure more warriors, it is that I am not sure of the proper process to ensure they are loyal only to me.”

Joc straightened, his eyes filled with fury. “They should be loyal and obedient to not only you, Master, but also your leaders. Kel and I, your generals. Otherwise, how can we command the forces?”

“I stand corrected,” Gunther acquiesced in a flat tone. “As I said. It will require days of research. For the time being, I can fortify the border magically. No one will be able to pass.”

Joc held both hands up, as if stopping someone from approaching. “There is no need for magical intervention.”

Gunther met the general’s gaze and attempted to read his thoughts, but the Torant’s mind was impenetrable. Someone with strong magic had placed wards on both of the general’s minds.

He continued, ensuring to keep his expression blank. “Did you not just say the guard force is growing tired?”

“We did Master,” Kel said. “However, if you install magical barriers, it will be seen as an insult to your warriors. A strong message that you do not trust them.”

I don’t. Gunther thought to himself.

If he were to be honest, there was not one being in the realm he trusted fully. The only person within the realms that he considered to be honest was Prince Sterling, but the prince could not help him here, he would never ever interfere in another kingdom’s dealings.

Did Joc and Kel have plans that extended past their realm?

The Dark Realm, Atlandia and Esland, were sworn enemy territories. Over the decades they’d warred many times. Meliot, Gunther’s predecessor, had never given up on the idea of overtaking the forbidden land, which was rumored to be breathtakingly beautiful.

However, what made Esland enticing was the existence of dragons there. Meliot had wanted to trap Prince Sterling who had control of the majestic beasts so that, in turn, he would use them against other realms and become the supreme ruler.

Fortunately, it was because of the dragons that no other realm had ever succeeded in infiltrating Esland and in all probability never would.

The relationship between the rulers of Atlandia and the Dark Realm was a more complicated one.

There were scrimmages between the fighters, usually wolves against dark sentinels that resembled wolves, but it rarely escalated into a true battle.

The magical protections of that realm kept intruders from going past the forest surrounding it.

The wards were impenetrable and had held for centuries.

Yet, on occasion, defectors from the Dark Realm had managed to get past the barrier.

It was almost as if it were a living essence that understood the difference between enemy and ally.

One of the generals gave an impatient huff.

“What will you do to help your warriors? Do you plan to allow them to perish if there is an attack?” Joc demanded.

Gunther understood that it was only a matter of time when he would be able to continue in the role of ruler without using the dark powers to keep control. The warriors were bloodthirsty and were growing impatient. They thrived on war and destruction and any ruler who did not, had to be overthrown.

The darkness within him rose, overwhelming his senses.

“Conjure more warriors. Attack. War. You must. Release us. Just this once.”

His body hummed with expectation. A sensation tempting him forward made him close his eyes.

Why not? On some level he thirsted for the satisfaction of allowing his powers free rein. To feel the full strength of what hummed within him.

“Very well. I will do it. You’ll have your wish—more fighters.” The words were his, yet not. His voice echoed strangely, layered, as though a chorus of Gunther’s spoke at once, each with a different edge of power.

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.

The fools, the more they fought, the tighter the hold would become.

Stepping over the struggling Torants, he took a few steps before snapping his fingers again, satisfied at the sound of them gulping in air.

He looked over his shoulder at the Torants, who were too weak to stand. “Do you really think you can kill me?”

Neither responded, they were too busy coughing and sputtering.

“There is much to do,” the darkness hissed. “Together we will conquer realms”

His lips curved. But it wasn’t him, Gunther realized. He was being overshadowed by the many who were the darkness.

“We will go to war against the Yorians, yes, but there is another realm that is more exciting. The human realm. You have gained access; it is time for us to test our powers there.”

“No.” Gunther pushed both hands against his temples. “I will not.”

“We can, and we will,” the darkness said. “ We have been waiting for our powers to be this strong so that we can finally conquer the ultimate realm. We will be the most powerful ruler to exist.”

“I will not.” Gunther fought against the dark thoughts with all his strength.

What had he done?

Allowing the darkness even a sliver of freedom had been a fatal mistake.

Now it surged through him like poison in his veins, seizing control inch by inch.

The thing inside him was no longer content to lurk in edges of his subconscious.

Instead, it was becoming dominant. And soon… it would devour him completely.

Clenching his jaw, Gunther squeezed his eyes shut and fought back, pushing against the suffocating tide of malevolence with every shred of his will. For a fleeting second, he gained the upper hand, but the hold was paper-thin, fragile as glass. He could feel it cracking.

“Aubrey…” His voice was raw, strangled. “H-Help me…”

Something like a gut punch struck and he let out a gasp.

He staggered, collapsing against the cold, stark throne, not to sit upon it, but to keep himself upright.

He didn’t want to rule. Especially not this place.

Not the Dark Realm, where evil slithered through the air and shadows became his traitors.

This was a war he could never win alone. But alone he was, surrounded by creatures who thrived on death and destruction, haunted by the monster clawing its way out from within him.

His body convulsed, muscles trembling with the strain. Sweat slicked his brow. His vision blurred. The darkness wasn’t just inside him—it was everywhere , seeping from the walls, curling across the floor like smoke, alive with hunger.

And then he broke.

Gunther let out a ragged moan as his legs gave out. He hit the floor hard, the impact jolting the breath from his lungs. Crawling with the last of his strength, he dragged himself behind a long, ancient sideboard hoping to hide from anyone coming in with plans to kill him.

Silence fell…but it wasn’t peace. It was triumph.

The darkness coiled through the chamber, pulsing with malevolent glee. Misty tendrils slithered through the air, celebrating their release.

The human had been strong. But not strong enough.

And once set free…

Evil never returned to its cage.