Malik sat back on the king's chair, alone in the royal chamber. Scrolls had been delivered earlier, petitions from the people, begging their king to build more barns since the old ones were filled to the brim.
He pushed the scrolls aside with a sigh. What kind of king wastes his time on such trivial things? Roads, barns, food for the poor, those were for peasants to worry about, not him. Malik had far greater things to plan.
The coronation was drawing near. Soon, he would no longer be called Commander Malik, but King Malik of Petra. He wanted the ceremony to outshine every ruler before him. More golden statues were to be raised across the kingdom as proof of his wealth and dominance.
He demanded new royal garments made from the finest yarn and stitches. Although the royal seamstress crafted a new robe for him every week, Malik had dismissed her and sent for tailors from foreign lands. He wanted only the best, and luxury fit for a god.
While the people begged for help, Malik sent out invitations and cheques to neighboring kingdoms for his coronation. His golden statue would hang over Petra as a symbol of his authority.
Stretching his neck, Malik dipped his quill into the ink. He wanted a queen beside him, a woman of beauty and royal dignity. His thoughts drifted to the servant girl he had cornered and taken by force days ago. He'd cursed her, threatened her to silence, and watched her flee in tears. She was not fit to be a queen.
Malik began writing a letter to the ruler of a nearby kingdom. Years ago, their families had shared a dinner to celebrate the alliance between their lands. He still remembered the king's daughter, a young girl who had smiled at him then, leaving an impression he never forgot.
He wrote carefully:
"Dearest King Alden,
I write to you with honor and great intention, seeking the hand of your daughter, Princess Elizabeth, in marriage. With my coronation approaching, I find her worthy to stand beside me as Queen of Petra. Her grace and beauty remain unmatched, and I wish to unite our kingdoms under the bond of marriage."
He sealed the scroll with the royal emblem and sent it off with lavish gifts, chests of gold, embroidered fabrics, rare spices, and precious stones.
When the messenger arrived at King Alden's palace, the response came swiftly.
"Commander Malik of Petra,
I have heard of your brother's passing and offer my condolences. It brings me joy to know Petra will once again have a strong ruler. Regarding your request, I gladly consent. My daughter, Princess Elizabeth, will be honored to become your queen. May our kingdoms continue to prosper side by side."
The necessary marriage agreements were signed, contracts binding both kingdoms in alliance and peace.
Days later, Malik stood on the palace balcony when he heard the sound of chariots approaching. Princess Elizabeth had arrived. Her carriage gleamed under the afternoon sun, and when she stepped down, her gown glittered just like light itself.
She looked up at him. "My king," she called with a graceful smile, "won't you come down to welcome your queen?"
Malik smirked. Bold, beautiful, and confident, exactly what he wanted in a wife.
When she entered the palace, he wrapped an arm around her waist and showed her the halls that would soon be hers. She was radiant, impressed by the gold-lined walls and vast treasures. To her, she was marrying the perfect king, the man spoken of across kingdoms as destined for greatness.
A few days later, the coronation began. Princess Elizabeth was crowned Queen of Petra beside her husband. She smiled proudly, unaware of the darkness that lingered beneath the golden splendor.
For on that same day, by Malik's secret order, guards had tracked down and silenced the servant girl he had wronged, now rumored to be carrying his child.
As cheers echoed through Petra and the new king and queen stood before their people, the girl's blood was spilled in the shadows.
Queen Elizabeth smiled, believing her life was about to begin. She had no idea what horrors awaited her, or the kingdom of Petra.
———-
Long ago, in the ancient kingdom of Petra, after Erlys, the god of light and hope, had defeated the darkness and sealed away all evil, he hid the Enchanted scripture deep within the Seven Hills of Petra.
It was the Book of Prophecy, the same book that had helped Erlys conquer the darkness before he ascended to the Realm of Light.
For centuries, Pluto, lord of the Netherworld, had known about this book. But he could never touch it. Only royal blood could unlock the seal that protected it.
Now, with King Malik under his control, Pluto was finally free.
And this time, he would take the book for himself, the supreme book of truth, the only path of light left in Petra.
The same book that had banished him long ago.
Pluto flew across the skies of Petra, his dark wings spreading like a shadow over the land. Below, the kingdom glittered with light, a sight that filled him with rage. He despised the brightness. He wanted only darkness to reign.
Soon, he thought, there would be no more light. The dark sky would rise again, the beasts would roam the night, and together with the dark prophets, the Infernal Dozens, he would rule Petra forever.
Gliding over the red sand mountains, Pluto landed silently upon a rocky cliff. From there, he gazed down at the royal palace. His claws dug into the stone. He could already sense the book's power beneath the land.
As he surveyed the kingdom, he noticed a man standing alone in the bushes near the hills. Curious, Pluto descended. The man didn't notice him until it was too late. A cold wind swept through as Pluto's spirit entered the man's body.
The man straightened, blinking rapidly. His eyes turned pitch black. Without a word, he began walking toward the palace, Pluto controlling every step.
The guards didn't stop him. Their minds froze, trapped in a silent trance as he passed through.
Inside the grand corridor, his footsteps echoed. He pushed open the tall wooden doors of the throne room, interrupting a royal meeting.
King Malik looked up sharply, fury rising. The king had been meeting with his council, men he had personally chosen, replacing the ones who once served his father. They sat around a long table, discussing how to expand Petra's borders and enslave neighboring kingdoms.
Malik didn't care about his people's needs. He only cared about power.
Now, as an ordinary man barged into his meeting, Malik's anger boiled over.
"How dare you! Who are you to walk into my chamber? Where are the guards?" he shouted, standing.
Then the man spoke.
"Malik!"
The voice thundered through the hall, shaking the walls. It was no human voice, it was dark and hollow.
Malik froze. A chill ran down his spine. His lips trembled as he whispered, "Pluto…"
A scream tore from the possessed man's mouth as Pluto's spirit left his body. The man collapsed to the floor, dead, his eyes white and empty.
Before Malik now stood the dark figure himself.
Pluto's wings unfurled. His long tail curled behind him, his horns glinting. His crimson eyes burned like fire as he stepped closer to the trembling king.
"Surprised to see me?" Pluto growled, knocking over a goblet of wine. "You shouldn't be. We are more alike than you think."
Malik's breath caught.
"Don't forget," Pluto continued, "you pledged your loyalty to me the day you begged to become king. The most powerful king Petra has ever seen."
His voice echoed around the throne room.
"I've come for what I seek, and you will help me get it."
Malik swallowed hard. "What… what do you seek, Pluto?"
Pluto smirked. "The Book of Prophecy. It lies beneath Petra, sealed away by the one who defeated me and my prophets centuries ago. I want it."
He remembered the war five thousand years ago, the vow he made to destroy Petra, to unleash the Dark Knight, and bring about the apocalypse. The book was the key. The only object that held the truth of all creation, the light that once banished him.
Malik hesitated. "I… I don't know anything about such a book."
"Oh, but you do," Pluto said, his eyes glowing brighter. "You're the last of Petra's royal blood. Only you can unlock the seal of the Seven Hills."
Malik's heart pounded. He had no choice but to obey. He had already sold his soul to Pluto long ago.
Pluto leaned closer. "I cannot stay long in this realm. My power weakens here. But once we destroy the barriers holding Petra's light, I will be free again. Then the real war begins."
His voice dropped into a growl.
"And the journey to the hills begins now."