The Depths of Darkness

That which concluded with him at the apex; the crowning moment revitalized by the joy and warmth of complete and utter victory. So why was it then, that even in his roost upon the throne did his feet not etch the red carpet? Why was it that they dangled in the eyes of his peers, as if had been attained by complexion and not wit? How quickly the world turned about, paving way to a new era. He thought himself to want no part in it, yet here he was again, wry in his motives to reclaim the throne despite never having truly lost it.

The Dragon King ascends.

The Depths of Darkness
The only audible sound within the black canvas, of what was a darkened underground chamber, was that of a large wall sliding into place, sealing off the secret passageway that had led to it. From it emerged a lone warrior, yet standing amongst the darkness, it was as though he was not truly there; for his presence had been masked entirely, to the point where not even his footsteps could have been heard. "Art" as it was referred to, that of an assassin.

As a dark mage, the dark was, in all practicality, his home, his means of living. He liked to believe he had been born within it, where as in comparison others had only adopted it; for this reason, many believed his heart to be tainted by the element. Even as it were, he could "see" within the darkness, though not directly with his eyes, but rather through his nose, ears, and tongue. Yes, such a battleground was all too familiar for Silvius. The cold tinge frolicking about his being, the deafness that echoed through the wake, the shadows creeping in every corner. He awaited the arrival of his opponent, adorned within the guise of a ghost.