It is a starless night.
I toss fitfully in my bed. I cannot sleep; something dire stalks my mind, a feeling I cannot shake. No moon shines to comfort me, no candle flickers to inspire my thoughts. There is something in the air, a tremor of fear, a wave of eeriness, a tingling of dark secrets best left undisturbed. There is something here, darting in and out of blackened crevices, and it mocks me, for I know not why it terrorizes my dreams.
There are footsteps in the corridor.
Art thou friend or foe? Doth thou come to relieve me of my nightly torment or art thou some mystic phantom that roams these halls? My senses tingle; something tells me to flee, to hide, to defend myself, but practical logic pushes it aside. I am a king; I have not time to heed whimsical fears.
The handle clicks.
Where are my guards, the worthy men I set outside my door to prevent nightly intruders? In the darkness I see a shadow slip inside. I raise my head slightly, groping for the dagger that I keep beneath my pillow… but it isn't there. Why? My head spins with confusion. Where was my blade?
There is the sound of metal scraping against a sheath.
My breath quickens, but before I can leap to my own defense, the figure strides forward quickly. In a flash of unexplainable light as he raises the blade above my head, I see his face.
There is only a moment for his countenance to register before I feel an agonizing pain tear into my back. I gaze up into his face in anguish.
"Why?"
He answers not.
The coppery taste of blood seeps into my mouth. My head swims and my mind fogs.
Why, my friend? Thane of Cawdor, wouldst thou do this to your king? Betwixt your own walls, whence you have vowed my protection? My blood now on your hands, forever defiling those once-fine palms, once defenders of your king, once lifters of your country?
Breath comes to me no longer. Fire purges my veins as my consciousness begins to fade.
I give you my wealth, and with it you o'erleap me. I give you my fellowship, and with it you lure me into your trap. I give you my trust, and with it you plunge a dagger into my back.
The door closes with another click.
And then the pain flees my failing body, leaving me in blissful peace. The world has lost its color; gray permeates every corner of my vision. I can see my blood flowing freely into the sheets. But I am gone, a spirit on the breeze.
O, my friend, once-worthy thane. My death is on your hands. You shall answer to God.