A towering obsidian fortress stood in the heart of the black domain, shrouded by dark clouds and crackling lightning. It was the Black King's Citadel.
The throne room, dimly lit by eerie purple flames, resonated with the tense murmurs of high-ranking dark beings.
On an eerie throne, the Black King, an imposing figure clad in pitch-black armor with a skeletal crown, sat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. His crimson eyes flared as one of his commanders rushed in, bowing deeply.
"Speak," the Black King's voice echoed like a death knell.
"My King, news has arrived from the Valley of Sunless Dusk. The curse… it's been lifted. The Cursed Necromancer King is dead!"
The throne room fell into stunned silence, broken only by the flickering of the ghostly flames. The Black King's fingers stilled. He rose to his feet, his aura of death law thickening.
