The king of Darkness

Chapter Twenty Two, The conflicting wills

Worlds burns.

Lives are taken.

The logic of the sword dictates only slaughter, taking, proving one's strength against the cruelty and totality of the universe.

She was no exception each time her arrows fired a life was taken, each time that arrow flew a new orphan was made.

Corpse after corpse left in her wake, She continued on an endless bloody path.

Goodness was ripped away from her, Her heart shattered, stitched back together by this bloody battle.

Taken roared and killed as they where designed for, And after one last draw of the bow it was over the final warrior dropped and their capital was now undefended.

Leading the army She crushed the ones in her way, ripping them to pieces, burning their homes, And yet for some reason she felt nothing.

She fights now for a different reason.

She wants fought for children, Now that is gone.

She wishes to create a utopia, a realm within her own realm, where there She can create what she wanted.

Happiness.

She could teach her own children what it means to be strong, And until this goal was done it does not matter how many people stand in her way she will kill and kill and kill until the final body drops and she can fulfill her wish.

"Mama" a small warrior clouded in bone like armor looked up at her.

"What is it?" Asked the huntress.

"Are you proud of us!" Her face was covered in blood, It dripped from her bow indicating she used it to crush in someone's skull.

Beside her several others but much older looked at her, these were the servants that followed her, her old hunters that worked beside her. Her old fellow comrades who were devastated at the lost of their goddess, they decided to follow her, to find salvation in the hands of the taken King.

To fine strength were they could not find it themselves.

"Yes young one I am proud of you." Looking at her and then looking at the burning lands around her The twisted Archer could not stop a sinister smile from surprising across her face, her hair casting a shadow over her eyes, At this point the old huntress was gone, She was broken and from broken fragments a more twisted amalgamation Rose.

Like her blade using comrade, hatred and anger guided her weapon, vengeance was her song, the thum, the sound every time her bow fired.

"Let us return, our mission is completed and we have gathered much today."

The Hunter's nodded, using their dark trinkets to open gateways through creation, they let into Atalante's Throne World, a world of the hunt.

Looking down at the river which now ran past her leg, she wondered how long has it been? They day seemed so resent and yet years have grown past her.