Chapter Text
d3rlord3 places the book and quill in the chest, his warning to who he knows is coming. He stares down at the closed chest for a moment, processing the events that had led up to this. A shaky sigh escaped him, and he stood up, his mind reeling with all this information suddenly upon him.
He glanced at his surroundings, eyes scanning over the gray stone walls. He believed to be in the clear. Maybe he would be okay, but as these feelings of safety began to form inside of him, he began to feel something off. He placed a hand over his heart, the left side of his chest; It beat fast and hard, a result of his earlier panic. He could hear it in his ears, his head throbbing. He clutched his head between his hands, grunting in pain, the headache doing a number on him. His ears rang and his head throbbed, his vision unfocused as he grappled with this intense headache.
He suddenly froze, a strange pull formed at what felt like his soul, a spot in his chest but not somewhere he could pinpoint. He felt the urge to go back, to return to the place that likely would be the cause of his future madness. d3rlord3 shook his head, trying to shake the feeling away, but it only got worse. It was like a wild animal desperate to get out of a cage. He’d never felt anything like this before, only a mild version of it when he felt as if he was pulled to move forward in this strange world. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps his deep-seated desires. But whatever the case may be, he went back.
He began walking back through the entrance he had only dug out moments ago, finding himself looped around back to where he started. d3rlord felt like he was in a trance almost, it was like he was still in control, but still his body moved on its own... He arrived at the golden gates, stopping about 12 feet from the entrance. He hesitated. Why was he coming back? Why didn't he run? Why? But his questions were cut short by a low and eerie voice whispering from behind the door, "Come..." It said, beckoning d3rlord3.
Every survival instinct inside him screamed to run, hide, scream, to do something.... But he didn't. He took a shaky step forward, body betraying mind. He swallowed nervously as he peered into the dark room for the second time, avoiding the creature's gaze. "What do you want from me?" d3rlord3 demanded to know, he had to know. What did this thing want with him?
A low chuckle came from the freakishly tall black figure cloaked in tattered yellow robes of fine-quality materials. It enveloped its form like a sea of cloth, torn near the edges and moth-eaten. It wore a light, pale yellow colored mask. The mask was smooth, shaped like a face with eye holes and a closed mouth. It wore a crown with tall pointed palisades around the rim. "Welcome home, Knight." It spoke.
d3rlord3 stood so still it was as if he had been petrified, frozen. He had seen this thing before, but he had been so overwhelmed with the knowledge of everything that he hadn't truly had a moment to really look at this thing before him. It had to be at least 10 ft tall with long, slender fingers attached to the hands that sat so calmly in its lap.
After maybe 5 minutes of silence between the two, d3rlord3 finally spoke, “What are you..?” He did his best to keep his voice steady, but there was unmistakable fear and unease beneath. The figure rested the side of its face on his fist, elbow on the armrest of his throne, chuckling.
“You ask what I am, knight, but you already know. You gazed upon me, looked into my eyes for a surprising 15 seconds. Most do not last so long, you know.” It said, pausing before continuing, “You have gained the knowledge of everything; you are asking questions in which you already know the answer.”
d3rlord3 knew it was right; he did know. This was a king, a god, a cosmic entity tied to forbidden, maddening knowledge, driving people insane by unveiling truths beyond human grasp by simply looking upon him or uttering his name. This figure of cosmic horror embodies the terror of the unknown and the fragility of sanity when confronted with vast, alien realities. He possesses knowledge so vast it includes everything that has ever and will ever exist, including multiple realities.
He swallowed nervously, clenching his fists in an attempt to stop the shaking in his hands. His eyes were glued to the King in Yellow. While he could look away, it was as if he was in a trance of sorts. d3rlord3 felt as if he needed to look at the king.
The king’s eyes stared down at d3rlord3. It was odd; his scleras were perfectly white and his irises a dark gray, a pupil in the center but hard to see. They stood out well, as if glowing in the darkness of his skin and the shadow of his hood. They peered through the eyeholes of his mask, locked onto d3rlord3. They narrowed as he smiled beneath the mask. He was amused by the man who previously stood unshaken, now reduced to quiet ruin.
d3rlord3 stared into those unsettling eyes, feeling a sense of dread yet belonging here. Resigning to his fate, he stepped closer…
The king was pleased, holding out a hand for d3rlord3, beckoning him closer.
After a few minutes of hesitation, d3rlord3 decided he would step forward. With his new knowledge he knew he had no ill intentions right now as he knew what would happen if he were to step closer. His steps were slow and cautious as he approached the king.
His steps were slow and cautious, eyes never leaving the king. He stopped in front of the king, inches away from his extended hand.
The King in Yellow gently put his hand to d3rlord3’s chin and tilted his head so he was looking up at him. “Don’t seem so upset, you are finally where you belong.” The king said. He released d3rlord3’s chin and leaned back in his chair, his hands finding the ends of the thrones armrests.
“So, d3rlord3, what do you say? Will you accept your fate and remain here? Or keep running from your destiny?” The king asked, though he already knew that he would be staying.
d3rlord3 slowly lowered to his knee, bowing to The King in Yellow, sword tip to the ground and hands on the handle. He surrendered himself to the king, accepting his fate.
After all, what is a knight without his king?