Fungal Halo

"We are not so different, you and I," the Dark Sorceress declares as I confront her at last in her great tower.

I grip my sword and grit my teeth. "You're a cold-blooded killer who consorts with demons and whose idea of freedom is born of chaos and destruction."

The heroine swoops in toward the site of the explosion, keeping an eye out for—ah, there she is. Her great nemesis, striding through the destruction, catches her eye at the same time and grins widely. "Ah, there you are! Fireworks always were the best way to get your attention."

The Chosen One's blade finds its way home at last, buried to the hilt in my chest.

I look up from the wound into brilliant blue eyes, where I find triumph and questioning, "Did I do it? Is it over?"

I smile in reassurance. It's over. This whole charade is over at last.

You never could quite destroy me, no matter how you tried. Your greatest hero could diminish me, certainly, but never destroy.

So you shackled and chained me in the deepest, darkest dungeon you could find, and you called it victory.

You never did understand my nature.

Once upon a time, there was a group of stalwart, incorruptible heroes who ventured forth on a quest to save a kingdom from ruin. Monsters had overrun the land, and these were capable warriors with the power to dispatch them.

But they needed someone who could keep them alive.

"At last, you arrive in my lair," the Dark Lady of Nightmares drawls with a confident air of menace.

She rises from the Throne of Thorns, her seat of power overgrown with wild vines bearing threatening spikes which somehow never pierce her smooth, perfect skin.

What a lovely afternoon to relax with an old friend and reminisce over tea.

We laugh over stories of our adventures together, and for a moment, it's like we were never apart.

She reaches across the table and takes my hand, and I smile like I haven't in years.

It was all over. The forces of light victorious. The Dark One banished to wait for another turning of the cycle to clash with another destined Hero generations from now.

Still the Priestess grieved her love, the Hero who gave her life to win this victory.

There is always a Dark Monarch. There is always a Princess in Gold. There is always a Hero and always a conflict between light and shadow.

In defeat, in victory, in death—whatever the outcome—the cycle begins again with the coming of a new age.

But this cycle is different.

The knight was a hero once. The princess called her that, at least, before sending her on this quest.