AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I received a comment saying the first chapter never happened. Well, DUH! If I had just described him running from platform to platform, I personally think it would have been boring and monotonous. Next, I know that some may find the dialogue something of a put-off, simply because it was not accurate. I apologize for this, but I did the best I could by sitting down in front of my TV speakers and straining my ears and feverishly copying down every line said

Understandably, I may have missed out some or altered some sentences, and for that I apologize.

Now, this is the "Dark" ending for the game. I decided to do this first cos I figured it was gonna be... Interesting to write. The next chapter shall be the "Light" ending. Enjoy, God bless you!

P.S: Before anyone makes another comment, yes, this does NOT happen in the game, thus FANFICTION

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"I'll cut you down before I leave this place," the Prince muttered under his breath as he dashed forward, the sword of Sharaman now blazing in his hand. With a decisive slash he cut the Dark Prince in half, causing the two halves of his body to dissipate into thin air. The Prince smirked as he continued his way up the staircase. He was half-way up before he heard a voice call him. No, not a voice, but many voices, vast and powerful, yet one and the same.

"That worked well," commented the Dark Prince. The Prince turned around in anger, and froze in horror. There in the Throne room were now two of them!

"Impossible!" The Prince thought in horror, rage seeping through the walls of his mind. He leapt down the stairs and in a single stroke cut down the two, which multiplied into four. Outraged, he struck again, and there were eight!

"Ouch, stop it!" The Dark Princes laughed, "You're hurting me!" The Prince continued to hack at his opponents, the waters of rage broken through the walls of his mind and pouring out full force in his mind. He could not leave this place with the Dark Prince still alive! He had to kill him! Sixteen, thirty two, sixty four!

NO! I will kill you!

"Only a little longer, Prince," the Dark Princes coaxed him, the smiles on their faces never diminishing even as more and more of their comrades fell. The Prince's attacks now never stopped, one slash following into another. A diagonal slash spinning around to become a vertical upper-slice at another. He kept on attacking until finally, only one Dark Prince was left in the hall with him. Breathing hard, the Prince made his way to him…

And just as he stepped into the center of the room, the rest of the room filled up with replicas of the Dark Prince. In unison they laughed, and in unison they raised their left hands, daggertails extending.

"Only one soul may rule this body, Prince," they smiled, "All that is yours, is rightfully mine! And mine it will be!"

In unison, they brought their daggertails down, and the Prince's cry echoed throughout the Mental Realm, his soul torn…

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"Wake up, Prince," Farah said, "Wake up!" The Prince groaned and sat up, rubbing his head.

"Are you alright?" Farah smiled down at him. The Prince looked up at her, and Farah was taken aback by the look of pure loathing the Prince gave her. Quick as thought, the look was gone, and the Prince looked at her with such love and affection Farah doubted what she had seen.

"I think," the Prince laughed, "I think it's finally over!" Farah smiled and helped the Prince to stand. She turned to the balcony and rested her head on a pillar, admiring the setting sun.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Farah sighed, "Prince, there's one thing I still don't understand. How did you really know my name?"

"It is a long, monotonous tale, and whores like you will never understand," Farah turned and faced the Prince in shock; never had anyone addressed her in such a vile manner, and much less one of royal blood. She examined the Prince more closely this time, but found no change physically. Nothing seemed to change in him except...

His eyes. His eyes gave away the presence of another soul, not the Prince. His face spoke of love, but his eyes spoke of arrogance and greed, hunger for power and lust for battle. His eyes were not that of the Prince, but that of a demon.

"You see it now?" The Prince laughed, his voice was the same, yet it belonged to someone else entirely. It was so clear that Farah was shocked that she had missed it.

"Who are you? What have you done with him?" Farah cried out, her hand reaching over her shoulder, drawing forth an arrow. In one swift motion she drew the arrow and notched it, sighting down on the Prince, or whoever it was.

"Sorry, but the Prince isn't here right now," The Prince smirked, the glowing sword of the late King of Persia flashing into his hand, "But if you really want to see him, I'll gladly escort you to him,"

Farah cried out, releasing the arrow and immediately reloading in one smooth motion, but she never fired the second shot. The Prince had dashed forward and knocked aside her first arrow with dexterity that only he possessed, his sword slashing down on the arrow and splitting it in the middle. The Prince spun in mid-step and appeared behind the Princess of India, his sword held to her throat.

"You really ought to die now," the Prince complained, "You've been so hard to kill with that wimp standing in my way," His sword slashed, and Farah was no more.

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The Prince stood at his Throne, spun, and sat down in one fluid motion. He grabbed the crown beside the Throne and proudly seated it on his head.

"All the world is at my command," the Prince laughed aloud, "I command the greatest empire in the world! It will all be mine!" Fevered now, the Prince dashed forward toward a map of the world painted on the wall. His sword of Sharaman flashed into his hand as he jabbed it at Africa.

"First, Africa!" he spun the sword, the blade slicing the world into shreds, "Then Europe, Asia, Russia, South East Asia, Australia!" With a flourish, he drew the sword from the wall and slammed it back into the center of the map, where a giant blank existed.

"Then, I will sail the seas, and I will conquer the other worlds out there! Nothing will be denied from me!" The Prince threw his hands high above his head, cackling, and a mad gleam in his eye. Elsewhere in Babylon, the people cowered in fear, what had they done? They had rid themselves of a tyrant, only to be ruled now by a demon.

"I am the Prince of Persia, the King of Blades, and the Master of the World!"