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The castle was cold tonight. Though that was… less of an observation, and more of a rule of the world. The Dark Worlds didn’t have a sun, which meant… they also didn’t have a day-night cycle, but he ignored that. It was ‘night’ when he was tired. And when the heroes arrived, then it would become ‘night’ when they were tired. He also knew that when they got here, the world would get warmer. Their light was the only source of warmth the Dark Worlds could have — without them, it’d stay cold forever. Though with that said, he figured it might be slightly warmer outside the castle. It seemed to suck in the cold, trapping it within the building. It was… minorly uncomfortable, but that didn’t matter. When the Heroes got here, none of this would matter. His life would be transformed for the better. He’d be given purpose.
He couldn’t wait to meet them. He’d been dreaming about that moment pretty much since he first heard the prophecy. He had… a lot of time to dream. It was pretty much all he could do — dream and study the prophecy. And wander the halls and note how little there was here… Most of the castle was just walls of stone brick and doors that couldn’t be opened yet. He considered himself lucky that he could access his own room. It at least gave him a few more spaces to wander other than just the throne room. He would’ve hated being confined to the throne room. Especially with an entire world outside that he couldn’t step into until the heroes arrived, since he couldn’t risk not being here when they showed up… Blinking, he found that he’d wandered back to his own room. He looked around the empty space before making his way to the window. He rested his arms against the window sill, the curtains blowing in the wind and brushing against his robes. They couldn’t be felt through the fabric, so he paid them no mind. Any moment now, the heroes could be making their way through this world. Then he would be able to greet them in the throne room and tell them about their destiny. He would finally talk to the girl with hope crossed on her heart, and the cage with human soul and parts.
He could already imagine them. They would be kind and virtuous heroes. They would be strong, and smart, and he would keep them safe. His hands clenched around the window boards. He would keep them alive. It was what he was here for. …he’d have to introduce himself, too. What would he say? This was the part he’d thought the least about — how he’d tell them about his role in the prophecy. Obviously they’d understand what it was, right? That his role was to keep them happy, even when times got tough. It was why he was alive, after all. He’d tell them that he was the Prince of Darkness, that he — he… didn’t know what else to say. He was here to take care of them. He was… No. Wait, no, he — he couldn’t have forgotten. His name — What was his name? He gripped the boards, nails digging small lines through the wood. How was he supposed to introduce himself without his name?
Maybe he — he could just ask them to name him, but — No! He was already asking so much of them by telling them about the prophecy, he couldn’t ask them to name him too! Come on — he had to know it! Someone gave him a name at some point, he’d just forgotten! It — had to be stuck in his mind somewhere? Wasn’t it two syllables? Or was it three? The Prince of Darkness, the healer, then… who was he? Who — Ralsei. The word came flooding back, crashing over him like a tidal wave. His legs gave out and he collapsed against the windowframe. Ralsei. R A L S E I. Ralsei, that was his name. He… needed to remember it. He needed something for the Lighteners to call him. He pushed himself up, glancing around before zeroing in on the wood beneath his hands.
He laid down, staring up at the somewhat hidden underside of the window, and slowly began to carve lines into it with his nails. Splinters began to fracture off, some stinging as they sunk into his fingers. Still, he kept going. R. A. L — S. E… I. There. Now he couldn’t forget. He’d remember, and nobody would know this had ever happened. He was — fine. He wouldn’t forget anything else, anything more important. He couldn’t. Remembering was his job, and he couldn’t fail. There was too much at stake. He stumbled over to a corner and slumped to the ground, curling into a ball and trying to tug the splitters from his hand. Some went easily, but others just broke off, burning as they embedded themselves deeper in his fingers. His eyes welled with tears and he shook his head. No, he — wasn’t supposed to be doing this. What if the heroes came now? What if — His shoulders shook and he hid his face in his robes. The chill of the stone crept up through the fabric, and he pulled it tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. He’d just — do this now. Just this once, he could cry. And then he wouldn’t do it ever again. He’d be what the prophecy wanted him. Just — tomorrow. He’d be the real Prince of Darkness tomorrow. And for now, he’d just… be Ralsei.