I Shall Not Be Mocked!
Darkness swept over the corridor. Nothing but a weak flame from a candle lit the area. An evil red light was emitted from the flame, a very unnatural color. The room was bare except for a cheap cot and a desk. It could easily be seen that this person lived a very simple life. The door opened with a loud creak. A man in a black robe walked in, his footsteps barley making a sound on the worn wooden floor.
"Sire," the man's rough voice rippled through the silence. "The Emperor's son has been born." Suddenly the small flame on the candle exploded into an red flare. Embers spitting all over the floor. A figure was visible now with the increase in light. Like the man the figure was clothed with only black. It's wiry profile framed by the red spitting fire. A deep voice, rougher than sand paper came from the form known as "sire".
" I try all of my magic..." the person was enraged and as it spoke the fire swelled more and more. " And this child was still born. A little baby, survived my powerful magic!" A slam on the desk, probably its fist, again the fire crackled more embers all over the floor. The being turned towards the man who seemed expressionless. Unafraid of the orange specks scattered all around him every little one with the potential to set the room ablaze.
"The Emperor's Magic has gotten stronger than yours." The man answered coolly. " He must have reversed all your vexes and curses."
Silence. A long bony hand appeared over the tongues of fire. The flare died down, slowly, back to the tiny flame it originally was. " You insult me?!" The voice was strangely calm.
There was the sound of choking then a thud on the floor. "I, Dark..." The figure said with anger. "shall not be mocked." Dark walked over the dead man and slammed the door shut behind him. The candle's flame wisped away once the room was empty. And there was total darkness.