Some fall from grace, but their beauty never recedes. How mighty he sits on his throne after committing irreversible sins, unbothered. The physical beauty is not everything, you look beyond and ahead. Isn’t he like that? The dark lord. An enigma fallen from grace. Well, it was not his fault, you see. It never is. Only once in a while people like him are born. Immense power and fury with no knowledge on how to contain it. It was never his fault, you see. What is evil? If not, just another word. What is good? If not just another sugar-coated group of syllables. After all, he is ‘the dark lord’. In a world filled with mere talentless mortals, he is already suffocated. What else is he supposed to do? Acquiring power is his way of spending days laden with boredom. What else can a man of his calibre do? His throne is not as pretty as his mind. It’s dull, like it has been burdened with the repercussions of his actions. His followers are all intimidated by his never ending rage. But what can a man unloved his whole life resort to? It’s not like he can feel anything. He is hollow from within, an empty shell of a man, trying to fill the void his supposed guardians created. He wants to live forever, etched into the memory of every being. A memory that can never be obliviated. He is powerless, you see. These are just his compulsions. After all, he suffers from an incurable disease. A disease no one knows about. It’s the disease of ‘evil’. Alright, ‘evil’ is just a word, but is it? How come he is not cured then? Destruction often plagues his mind, like tedious tasks of finding solace burns the heart of mortals. His purpose is greater, you see. It’s beyond good and bad. It is evil. Evil is beyond it all. Does it matter what side of greatness you land on? It can be either. After all, he is the dark lord. He who shall not be named.
The Dark Lord