Fiction logo

The Midknight

by Jasper Joniec 2 months ago in Fantasy
Report Story

Mortem Tales of the Night

The Army marched forth over the hill, an unstoppable wall of steel and bone, led by their commander, a young man full of hope, courage and potential. They were only a few weeks from the front when they reached a small ruin, and they stopped to investigate. After some considerable searching, the commander had found what appeared to be a blade of masterful make and material; it was made of a dark crystal filled with the stars of the midnight sky, thousands of clusters of luminescence, and the blade spoke to him. It spoke words of war, and of wisdom. It claimed to be named Blood-Drinker, and that it was the greatest weapon any mortal eyes had seen.

The blade directed the young commander through combat great and small. The commander went to lead the fight in the great war. He fought in hundreds of battles over the years, and he never again lost a fight. When the war ended, he was rewarded for his strategy and skill, gaining him wealth, renown, and land beyond anything he could possibly have dreamed, however, Blood-Drinker was not satisfied, as it fed on the death of its foes and with the end of the great war, so too did its use in combat. The commander went on to found a great city on this land of luscious land, as a benevolent ruler he brought his people great prosperity and the city flourished. the people lived in wealth and happiness, as time passed, the young commander grew older, and more wise. He gave up his interest in combat, and put away his armor and weapons and Blood-Drinker grew dormant.

Many years later Blood-Drinker grew hungry and he plotted. He crafted a million plans and then a thousand more. As he spoke once more to the commander, who was now a king in all but name, it told him of a ritual he could perform, one that could bring great prosperity to himself and his peoples, all it took was a small sacrifice, and he would rule the most powerful kingdom in all the realm, but he was deceived. After years of careful changes, he started the ritual. almost imperceptibly the people became ill and weak as they became lethargic, and the lands began to lose its fertility and life. The commander barely noticed as his people began to suffer as their souls were slowly ripped from their bodies. He had no idea that the souls were being consumed by Blood-Drinker.

As it feasted, it changed the commander to better fit its desires for a host. The commander once more wore his armor, and he did not resist as he began to get shaped by it and Blood-Drinker. The plates were no longer held together with straps of leather, instead they were no more than plates of a shell held together by flesh and sinew, his form corrupted thoroughly by the evil of Blood-Drinker. Soon all the people in the city were naught but dust and a faint memory, with that, Blood-Drinker was fed, and his hunger was quelled, for a time, but with that, his hold on the commander grew slack, and whatever remained of the commander fought back, and with the last of his will, he forced himself to remain within his palace. Without any more souls to feed upon, the corrupted body of the commander became sedentary. The hot dry air of the desert that now surrounded them slowly gave way to the cold darkness of death as they drifted out of memory and into myth, until all that remained was wrath and anguish...


About the author

Jasper Joniec

I am a new writer from Canada, with an interest in horror short stories, most of which take place in my homebrew D&D campaign setting of mortem

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.