Pyrotechnics (Willow X Wilson) (A Don't Starve Fanfiction)

~6~

     The King watched with nothing more than a grimace as the screen before his eyes relayed what was going on outside his inescapable realm. A few of the survivors, including the remaining Carter heiress, had banded together to form a sort of posse. They were laughing and talking, and the king strained his ears to listen to it. It was much better than the god-awful tune that played non-stop throughout his throne room. He'd listened to it for many years, and he'd do anything to have some peace and quiet.

     "Your majesty," Mr. Skits said in the darkness. The King gestured with his hand for his messenger to come forth. "One of the mortals has fallen for the trap." The shadow worm reported. The King used shadow magic to move the screen to where he'd set the trap, seeing one of the humans ensnared in the invisible box. They were slamming their hands against the side, attempting to free themselves, but it would never work. The only way that box could be opened was by destroying the regal statue of himself nearby, and nobody would be that evil. That was the King's job.

     "Leave him. Someone will find him eventually." The king dismissed, his messenger nodding and disappearing back into the shadows. He flicked the screen from survivor to survivor, then realizing with a sense of dread that one of them was missing. He frantically changed the view to where it said they should be, but it only showed a large spider nest with a horribly misshapen spider outside it. Oh. Oh. The Shadow King's frown only grew in light of this latest development. The King changed his screen back to the group, noticing something alarming about one of the survivors. They had an overwhelming amount of dark energy radiating from their soul, an amount able to challenge the monarch's. The King's demon side craved it, feeling the faint buzz and pull of the dark magic at the edges of his consciousness. His other side fought back, knowing that the only way to retrieve the power was through murder. He was not going to kill anyone, so long as he had control over himself.

     He looked at the heiress once again, a familiar face among the madness. Her hair was messy, just as he'd remembered. He'd missed his niece, and yearned for the times when she, her sister and himself would venture into the woods to form their own realities. The heiress was the usurper, he the dryad and her sister the seer. The King feared he'd never feel the sun on his skin again or the happiness he'd felt with his nieces, knowing deep down that he didn't deserve the feelings.

     "Your Majesty, is there anything I can do for you?" A distorted voice asked. It was Ombre, his faithful shadow hound.

     "Not at the moment." The King replied, the sentient hound sitting at his feet. "Actually, there is something you can do for me." The hound perked up, one ear flopped over like a collie. "I would like you to track the high amount of shadow in the pyromaniac. I want to know its source."

     "It shall be done, master." The shadow hound stood, shaking out his smoky black fur, and letting out a howl before disappearing into the shadows. The king relished in the solitude, still bothered by the aggravating tune that played over his miserable rule. He sighed, temporarily blocking out the music. He changed the screen to the pyromaniac, seeing her somber expression as she conversated with the others. He was immediately reminded of Grue- no, Charlie- and how she only smiled for pictures. With a snap of his fingers, the screen was replaced by a box of cigars. He took one, lighting it with the box of matches he kept in his blazer pocket. He took a long drag, exhaling the cloud of foul-smelling smoke. He watched the shadows around him shift lazily like ripples on a lake. He clapped his hands, a shadow servant appearing. They were carrying a tray of assorted cookies and sweets strewn across it, all freshly made. The servant held it outwards, the king removing a chocolate-chip cookie from it. He bit into it, the gooey chocolate being a temporary comfort. After stuffing the rest of the cookie into his mouth, he made the screen re-appear. He spotted Ombre entering the overworld, slinking between the shadows of trees. The group was still talking when they passed the tree that Ombre was hiding under, being none the wiser. Ombre watched the pyromaniac with hunger in his eyes, but he stayed put. He had not been ordered to kill. Yet. The hound's telepathic connection entered the King's mind, whispering.

     She carries a great burden, your majesty. Ombre reported. But I am unable to read her.

     What do you mean? Try harder! The King demanded.

     Her mind won't allow it. It shifts itself to block outside forces, it seems. The hound replied, the King dumbfounded. How could a mortal's conscience be powerful enough to deter shadow influence? He was going to take matters into his own hands now. He reached for his tome, the Codex Umbra, and flipped to one of its many pages.

     "Audi me: obumbratio? Iterum adiuro vos dimittere mihi in terra semel venenum hoc tempus ambulare iterum!" The King recited, feeling his alternate personalities splitting apart. Once they were separated, his normal side, his real side, was left on the throne. The King let out a sigh, watching the dark shadow of himself abscond from the throne. It was going to infiltrate the poor girl's mind, but the king knew that she was strong enough to withstand the shadow's influence. He breathed more easily, but the harsh reality that the demon would eventually need his host weighed on him like a boulder, crushing his hopes. Despite that, the King bore his skin and faced his mistake head on. He took full responsibility for everything that had happened- every death, every lie, every false sense of security. He was to blame, and he was no longer going to hide from it. This woman, the one who not even the king could break, was an omen. For the time being, the King could not interpret whether or not the omen was ill or beneficial and hoped for the latter option. He snapped his fingers weakly, the screen and its glow disappearing. He exhaled, his cracked glasses sliding down his nose, and began to watch the shifting abyss that he'd made his home.