Lief set the roses down at Jasmine's grave. On this, what would have been her twenty-eighth birthday.

Not even the Palace Guard accompanied this ravishing fellow here, in the Field of Stone. So many moments braided into each other, every last one leading, ineluctably, to this right now. The man fell to his knees, as if he were compelled by some evil spell.

Look, you need to be aware of this: Lief's beauty has not faded since the reclamation of Deltora, years ago. Unlike the Doom, or Barda's wiofe, he has not aged like milk. King Lief, beloved of the commons: silver hair down to his shoulders; eyes bluer than the waters of Rio Celeste; smooth skin, pale and lovely; lithe musculature, a body neither brawny nor thin; hauntingly beautiful clean-shaven face, stunning flower of Deltoran manhood. And Barda, mentioned earlier, was still in his farce of a marriage to Lindal. They despised each other by now, but did not dare to divorce.

Barda loved Lief, had loved him for years. The big man, being Captain of the Palace Guard, had interacted with Jasmine frequently, and was increasingly curt and frosty with her as time went by. There was a tightness to him when he spoke to her, and a palpable anger, as if he knew something about the queen that drove him insane with rage.

I won't take you into the quagmire of Deltoran politics here over a decade after Lief's coronation, nor how rumors abound of the Shadow Lord gathering his strength once more, antics at the border, as well as the sinister syphilitic sickness sweeping in from the north. Needless to say, Lief's position is precarious, and as yet a helper has not come for him.

Most nights Barda forced Lindal to sleep downstairs with the children. He subsequently walked over to his desk, heart caught in his throat, and drew out his portrait of Lief: the one Barda had drawn himself, and rather skillfully at thatt. Mr Barda held up the portrait for Reverence and Adoration, and jacked himself off. As a matter of fact, Barda could not perform sexually for Lindal, not unless he bent all his thought toward Lief and his gorgeous smile and lithe physique and radiant blue eyes while he fucked the repulsive Lindal pussy.

He longed to...

In this moment, the grieving Lief sighed slightly, found himself looking upward, as a darkness snaked through the cloudless sky. The king cursed, hand reaching for his sword, as his hair and cape were whipped by the sudden gust of wind.

Behold! a demon descends. The Shadow Lord himself came down as hatred and pestilence, withering the grass and the flowers aaid at Jasmine's grave.

The Shadow Lord took form, appearing robed and hooded and with eyes red as embers, features and form merely a configuration of darkness.

Lief stood unafraid, and regal, and he gave forth with threats and condemnations, and the Shadow Lord heard them, but he laughed only and said, 'It's been so long since I've hosted a king. The Realm awaits you, Your Majesty-the Land of my Delight!' But Lief scoffed, and drew his sword, and the two battled in this hour, till the Shadow Lord took the king's sword and broke it, and he bound and gagged Lief very tightly, almost unbelievably so. The Shadow Lord gave a howling belly-laugh, mocked and scorned the very King of Deltora to his face, who could not escape his bonds or cry out for help.

Then the Shadow Lord leapt into the sky, Lief in his clutches, and all at once they were away, to the Land of Shadow.

A row of dead roses. A blasted field. A cursed kingdom.

A fierce contest of arms to come.

To be contuned.