The Dark Age was the longest period in the history of our Dunya (world), lasting for a millennium from 5924 to 7051. The fall of the Kingdom of Men marked the beginning of darkness that would engulf the entire Dunya and seize control over life and death for Humans, Jins, and other minor races. During this time, many customs, traditions, and technologies were lost. Yet hope remained that humanity would one day regain its freedom.
5924, from the creation of the world.
"My king," said the armored man. He was tall, with long dark hair cascading down his shoulders like a waterfall. "We lost three fortresses on the border, and Ulux Beg's army was annihilated. No one survived."
The sixty-year-old king in ornate golden armor looked distressed. He could accept the loss of three fortresses, but losing an army with its ammunition was devastating. Tens of thousands of good men were lost. Though losing men in the war was inevitable, this defeat was neither the first nor would it be the last.
"General," he stared at his man who had been loyal for decades, "How many soldiers do we have?"
"Royal soldiers or Begs?" General Umar asked respectfully.
"First, tell me about the Royal Army," said the King.
"We have 5 armies, each with 20,000 men, totaling 100,000," General Umar replied. Being experienced and professional, he was prepared for any order.
"Hmm, what about the armies of Begs?"
"Well, my king, we don't have exact numbers because the Aristocrats refuse to disclose their soldier count and wealth to avoid paying taxes—" but the king's violent cry interrupted him.
"HOW DARE THEY! WE ARE LOSING OUR LAND WHILE THEY THINK ONLY OF THEIR PATHETIC LIVES AND GOLD!" The king was in agony. They had already lost almost a third of their land, yet the begs' only concerns were hoarding gold and marrying more women."
Silent rage filled the throne room. The king's weathered hands gripped his golden throne, knuckles white with fury.
"Find me, Lord Azim," he commanded General Umar. "He's the head of the Begs Council. I want him here before sunset."
"My king, Lord Azim left the capital three days ago, claiming his wife fell ill."
The king's face darkened. "Left? Without my permission?" He stood, his armor catching the dying sunlight. "Send riders. Bring him back. Dead or alive."
Before General Umar could respond, a young messenger burst into the throne room, face pale with terror.
"My king! The northern gates… they're under attack! Dark creatures… unlike anything we've seen. They're not human, not Jin… they're…" The messenger collapsed, revealing an obsidian arrow protruding from his back.
The throne room erupted into chaos as guards rushed to secure the doors. Unnatural darkness began to creep across the sky through the high windows, though it was barely mid-afternoon.
The king drew his ancient sword, its steel gleaming with forgotten magic. "Sound the alarm," he ordered. "We make our last stand here. General, gather whatever men remain loyal to the crown.
General Umar barked orders as soldiers rushed to fortify the castle gates. The unnatural darkness continued to spread, bringing an eerie silence that made even veteran warriors shiver.
"My king," a captain approached, "the city's outer walls are breached. Those… things… they climb like spiders. Our arrows pass right through them."
The king stood at the window, watching his city descend into chaos. Flames erupted across the western quarter, and screams echoed through the streets.
"Where are the Begs now?" he muttered. "Where are their armies when we need them most?"
A horn blasted from the east – three long notes. General Umar's face lit up.
"The Fifth Army! They've returned from the eastern campaign!"
But the king's expression remained grim. Through the gathering darkness, he could see the approaching army's banners – not the royal colours, but the black flag of Lord Azim.
"No," the king said quietly. "The Begs have chosen their side. They march with the darkness."
General Umar drew his sword. "Then we die as men, my king."
The throne room doors burst open as the first wave of shadow creatures poured in. Their forms shifted like smoke, but their claws were real enough – razor-sharp obsidian that tore through armor and flesh alike. The royal guards met them with steel and courage, but their weapons seemed to pass through the creatures' ethereal bodies.
"Form ranks!" General Umar roared, organizing the remaining soldiers into a defensive circle around the king. The air grew thick with an otherworldly chill as more shadow beings materialized through the walls.
The king raised his ancient sword, and its magical glow pushed back the darkness. "Remember the old prayers!" he shouted. "Steel blessed by light may pierce their hearts!"
A soldier began the sacred chant, his voice trembling but strong. Others joined their unified voices growing as they recited words passed down through generations. Their weapons began to shimmer with a faint blue light.
The next clash was different. Blessed steel met shadow, and the creatures screamed – a sound like breaking glass and dying stars. Black choir sprayed across marble floors as the defenders cut through the supernatural assault.
But for each shadow being they destroyed, three more appeared. Lord Azim's army had reached the castle gates, their trebuchets launching balls of green fire that exploded into clouds of poisonous smoke.
"My king," General Umar shouted over the chaos, "the eastern passage! We can still—" His words ended in a gurgle as a shadow blade erupted from his chest. The general's last act was to thrust his blessed sword through his killer's head.
The king fought like a man possessed, his ancient blade singing through the air. Each strike banished multiple shadow beings, but exhaustion began to slow his movements. "Hold the line!" he commanded, even as his men fell around him.
Through the broken windows came Lord Azim himself, riding a creature that was neither horse nor shadow – a massive beast with glowing red eyes and scales like polished obsidian.
"Your Majesty," Azim's voice dripped with mock respect. "The darkness offered us power beyond your petty kingdom. Why resist the inevitable?"
The king's response was his blade, thrown with deadly accuracy. It would have taken Azim's head had a wall of shadow not intercepted it.
"The old magic dies today," Azim declared, raising a staff carved from human bone. "The Dark Age begins."
The remaining royal guards charged Azim's position, their blessed weapons flashing. They were met by a wave of corrupted Beg soldiers, and the throne room became a slaughterhouse. Men screamed as shadow-touched blades turned their blood to black ice. Blessed weapons shattered against cursed armor. Brothers-in-arms who had fought together for decades now cut each other down without mercy.
The king retrieved his sword and faced Azim. "You fool," he spat. "You think the darkness will share power? It will consume you like all the rest."
Their duel was devastating. The king's blessed blade met Azim's cursed staff again and again, each impact releasing bursts of conflicting magic that shattered pillars and cracked the ancient stone floor. Around them, the battle devolved into savage close-quarters combat. Men resorted to daggers, fists, and teeth as their weapons broke.
A shadow tendril caught the king's leg, sending him stumbling. Azim pressed his advantage, but in his arrogance, he stepped too close. The king's blade found his throat just as Azim's staff pierced the king's heart.
"For the kingdom," the king whispered, using his last strength to snap Azim's staff. The resulting magical backlash obliterated both men and everyone within twenty feet.
The explosion blew out the throne room's walls. As the dust settled, only a handful of royal guards remained standing, surrounded by shadows and corrupted soldiers. Above them, the unnatural darkness had consumed the sky completely.
The last defender looked to the heavens and saw no stars, no moon, no hope. The Dark Age had begun, and it would last a thousand years.
In the ruins of the throne room, the king's shattered sword still gleamed faintly, a dying light in a world of shadow.