"One for the slum Two for the crown Three for the rags Four for the gown Five for the rebel Six for the king Seven for the war In which the dead sing..."
Revolution marched its way to the palace.
It was as if a wave of carmine and obsidian had burst through the city's streets, hollering, howling, brandishing weaponry of every known kind. Hundreds of crimson-hooded rebels shadowed their leader, who bore an onyx mask over his features. Some whispered that he bore a mask over his soul.
As soldiers scattered, the revolution stormed past the palace gates. It was a torrent — one of gritted teeth, clenching fists, glimmering blades, and sparking firearms. It did not pause until it stood before the king, who fell to his knees and trembled with fear. He blubbered, he wept, and he cursed the rebels 'til he could speak no more. He would have been a pitiful sight to the empire. The revolution's leader knelt beside the king, unwavering, and tore the mask off his own features.
As the king's life ebbed to nothing, all in the palace saw the face of a dead man. For it was death himself who'd come to bring ruination to the crown.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The notion of Grimdark Fantasy shows that humanity is flawed. It allows us to imagine a world which didn't end well, where the light of a better tomorrow has been dimmed by bloodshed, misery, and despair.
It would be wise not to read grimdark tales to young children.
Let us erase the shine off of every knight, strip the maidens of their purity. There will be no high kings and heroes, no destined saviors, and no wise sorcerers to guide their way. Ash has buried the happily ever afters, war has torn apart children's innocence and joy, and the empire — one which used to glimmer with sunlight — glimmers now only with blood.
Instead of black and white, the pages you read have been stained red and grey, for grimdark has crawled from the shadows.
Now, how could one possibly wish for such novels to exist? Are they not wary, disgusted, afraid of them?
