The moon cast its eerie, silver streak on the busy streets of Malacca, where colorfully dressed hucksters murmured to potential customers in tones of voice that tried to persuade them to buy wares from colorful marketplaces and imposing structures of the empire's capital. The air was thick with the pungent smell of exotic spices and incense.
Drumming and laughter filled the air well into the night. Yet beneath all the merrymaking, there was a grimness in the air, as if something was askew.
In his low, damp quarters sat Raja Bersiong, the mysterious King of the Gloomy Forest, his eyes dickering with emphasis on a labiously drawn map of the Malacca Empire. His long, bony fingers tapped a regular pattern on the stone table as his brain hurried to devise a way of bringing down the empire. He growled, his voice like thunder in the darkness, making his devoted servant, a twisted creature with ember-like eyes, shiver down the spine as it scurried to comply and then disappeared into the shadows like a ghost.
The servant scurried off to comply, vanishing into the shadows like some kind of ghost. Soon after, three figures emerged from the dark, their faces hidden behind black silk masks. They moved in unnaturally still ways, as if their presence alone sucked all the light out of the room.
"My Loyal Servant," Raja Bersiong began with a voice full of venom, "the time has come to strike at the hearts of our adversaries, the rulers of neighboring kingdoms who for this long have defied our authority." We will not just be content nibbling across the borders of the Empire. We shall strike at its core, sending everything crashing down.
The generals bobbed their heads, their eyes aglow with enthusiasm, their faces set in determination; for they knew that their lord's plans of action were never less than daring, desperate, and deadly.
"Our first target will be the port city of Muar," Raja Bersiong said, drawing a route on the map with his extended finger. "We strike at the heart of their business, razе their economy to its foundation. Peoplе will rise up in mass, and thе empire will fall aparct from within."
A fleet of black ships emerged from the forest's darkness, their sails flapping in the breeze, and their crews of twisted corrupt animals flooding Muar's ports like a dark living tide. The city was taken by great surprise. Most of its defenders were asleep or drunk. Thus, the attackers moved as if with a scythe through the streets, cutting down anyone that got in their way.
The people of Muar screamed and fled, but they were powerless to escape the terror that had been unleashed on them. The city burned, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. The sound of shouting and clashing steel resonated through the darkness, with the flames casting a terrible glare on the night sky, painting a scene of chaos and despair.
Standing in the midst of all this mayhem was Raja Bersiong, his eyes glowing malignantly in triumph as he had set the wheels rolling, and now it would mark the beginning of the long painful fall into the dark and the abyss of the Malacca Empire.
Night had fallen, and it had swallowed all in its fold. The city of Muar was just but a tip of the devastation and chaos that was to befall on the empire.
The town of Muar was paralyzed with fear: the streets, erstwhile filled with the din of enterprise, were deserted and silent. People huddled in their homes, their hearts clutched by fear, not daring to venture out into the night air, heavy with dread and uncertainty. The armies of Raja Bersiong swept through the city, and over the heads of the populace there threatened a dark, glowering shadow-a Damocles' sword.
As the night waned, Raja Bersiong sat in the grand hall of the city's palace, his long fingers steepled together in a gesture of satisfaction. Before him was a feast laid out, a sumptuous array of dishes any king would envy. Still, the tastes of Raja Bersiong were not those of mortal men; he had a special hunger which could only be sated by the consumption of blood.
That weird servant of his, with eyes glowing like hot embers, extended to him a golden chalice filled with dark crimson liquid. Raja Bersiong's eyes shone with anticipation as he took it from his servant.
"To Muar subjugation," he toasted, his voice oozing with malice. "And to the start of the end of Malacca Empire's independence."
He lifted the chalice to his lips, and the dark liquid touched his tongue. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste that touched his tongue, and sent a shiver running down his spine. The blood of innocents tasted sweetest among all, and with every passing moment, Raja Bersiong felt his power grow.
As he drank, his generals closed in around him, faces set with resolve. They knew their master's plan was falling into place to the letter, and they were intent on seeing it through to its fruition.
Meanwhile, the people of Muar were made to give in to whatever Raja Bersiong was asking of them. They were ordered to hand over their supplies of victuals, their beasts, and their treasures to the armies of the dark king. They were even forced to swear oaths of allegiance to him and acknowledge his supremacy over their city.
The Muar people were living in fear because everywhere, whatever they did, was being watched and controlled by the twisted creatures of Raja Bersiong, lurking in the dark to impose his iron grip on all the inhabitants of the city. They were living in a nightmare, as if with no wake-up call, living in darkness fallen upon them.
And when the night did not abate, the forces of Raja Bersiong were spread out in the empire as if to sow terror and obedience.
The Kingdom of Malacca was falling apart, and Raja Bersiong was the chief cause of its destruction. He sat at the head of the table, as though his eyes darted triumphant flames of fire, while the surrounding darkness closed in on him. The people of Muar spoke in hushed whispers of the inhuman ruler that kept them hostage and wished for a hero who would emerge and save them from his tyranny.
As day turned to day, the hope began to dwindle, and it was as if the shadow of Raja Bersiong had grown greater day by day over what used to be a vibrant city. His presence seemed to cast an oppressive pall of despair that certainly looked like it grew with each passing moment.