Page 3 of The Dark Lord Awakens
In class, I could challenge their ideas and engage in debates—that academic armor gave me confidence. But the moment the discussion veered toward anything personal or the bell rang, that courage evaporated. The thought of applying to join the Ironstriders? Terrifying. Asking them about anything beyond coursework? Impossible. So I remained in my self-imposed exile outside of class discussions, admiring from afar, dreaming of a day when I might work up the nerve to connect with them as people rather than just professors.
I was so lost in thoughts of my professors—ahem, I mean, guild leaders—that I almost missed my stop. Scrambling to my feet, I just barely made it through the doors before they closed. The station was nearly deserted, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous space as I made my way to the exit.
Emerging from the subway into the night’s embrace, thoughts of food and my hopeless crush haunted me more than any ghost could. My mind churned with pizza toppings and ridiculous scenarios where I somehow impressed Wes and Cole with my wit and charm. Yeah, right.
The streets were surprisingly busy for this time of night. New York, the city that never sleeps—or at least has a severe case of insomnia. I navigated through the crowds, my stomach leading the way toward the nearest pizza place that might still be open.
That’s when I heard it—a screech of tires that cut through the night like a knife. My head snapped up, eyes searching for the source of the sound.
A cacophony of honks sliced through the air like a knife through my cheese-filled, crush-laden daydreams. The world snapped into sharp focus as I spotted a woman and her child frozen like deer in headlights—an oncoming truck barreling toward them with unyielding momentum.
Time seemed to slow. In that moment, I wasn’t Beau the awkward nerd. I was Lucien Noir, the King of Darkness, faced with a real-life boss battle. Without processing the decision fully, I darted forward. My legs, usually reserved for shuffling between my bed and my computer chair, pumped with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.
I reached the pair just as the truck’s headlights illuminated their terrified faces. With a grunt that was far from heroic, I shoved them clear, feeling a rush of relief as they tumbled safely onto the sidewalk.
But physics, that cruel mistress, wasn’t done with me yet. My moment of triumph was cut short as I realized I was now in the direct path of two tons of speeding metal. The truck horn blared one final warning, a banshee wail heralding my impending doom.
Pain exploded across my body as I was thrown into the air. For a brief, surreal moment, I had a perfect view of the night sky, the stars twinkling indifferently at my plight. Then gravity remembered I existed, and I came crashing down. The cold pavement kissed my cheek with all the tenderness of a jackhammer.
Dizziness took hold as colors danced before my eyes, the world spinning like I was trapped in some sadistic merry-go-round. Not exactly how I planned to end my night, but at least it wasn’t another phone call.
As darkness crept in, I realized it wasn’t just my skin that was pale—the world itself had lost its color. Regrets filled me—why hadn’t I eaten? Would OpenSesame deliver to the afterlife? If reincarnation was real, maybe next time I’d be someone who lived life fuller—someone like Lucien Noir. Or at least someone who remembered to have dinner before playing hero.
My last conscious thought wasn’t of the life I’d saved or even of my beloved Wes and Cole. No, in true Beau fashion, it was, “I really wish I’d had that pizza.” At least there’s no overtime where I’m going.
As the world faded to black, I couldn’t help but think, if this was the end, it was a pretty anticlimactic way to go. No epic boss battle, no legendary loot drop—just a splat on the pavement and a grumbling stomach.
In my final moments of consciousness, I wondered if Wes and Cole would hear about my heroic deed. Maybe they’d finally notice me, the awkward student who became a local hero. Butknowing my luck, they’d probably just mark me absent for the next class.
Ifloated through darkness, weightless and formless. No pain, no hunger—just peaceful nothingness. Was this death? If so, it was surprisingly comfortable. No fire and brimstone, no angels with harps—just the void. I could get used to this.
Then sensation started creeping back. First, softness beneath me—impossibly plush and smooth, like lying on a cloud made of marshmallows and unicorn fur. Next came warmth, enveloping me like a cocoon. Finally, a distant sound—breathing? Not mine.
My eyes fluttered open, and I immediately regretted it. Even the dim light felt like needles stabbing directly into my brain. I blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, wondering if heaven came with complimentary sunglasses.
When my vision finally cleared, I froze. This was definitely not my cramped apartment bedroom with its water-stained ceiling and perpetually broken blinds.
I was sprawled across the most massive bed I’d ever seen—a monstrosity that could comfortably fit a family of elephants with room for their extended relatives. Crimson silk sheets pooled around me, so smooth they practically whispered against my skin. The bed itself was a four-poster behemoth carved from some dark wood, with intricate designs that seemed to move if I looked at them too long.
Beyond the bed, the room stretched on like some kind of royal chamber from a fantasy movie—one with an unlimited CGI budget. Towering ceilings arched overhead, supported by elegant columns. Massive windows draped with heavy velvet curtains lined one wall, while ornate tapestries depicting scenesof battle and conquest adorned another. A fireplace large enough to roast an entire cow crackled with blue-tinged flames in the corner.
“What the actual…” I muttered, my voice raspy. Had I been kidnapped by some eccentric billionaire with a medieval fetish? Was this an elaborate prank? Or had I actually died and gone to… luxury hotel heaven?
I shifted, expecting pain from my truck-meets-human encounter, but everything worked fine. Better than fine, actually. I felt… strong. Energized. Like I’d finally gotten enough sleep for the first time in my life.
That’s when I noticed him—a figure kneeling at the foot of the bed, head bowed in what looked like reverence. One knee on the floor, the other bent, in that classic “I pledge my fealty” pose.
“Um… hello?” I ventured, pulling the sheets up to my chest, suddenly aware I was wearing nothing but a silky black robe. “If you’re here to harvest my organs, could you at least let me have breakfast first?”
The figure raised his head, and my breath caught in my throat. If Michelangelo’s David had a hot, brooding older brother with a gym membership and a penchant for gothic fashion, this would be him. Tall and imposingly built, with shoulders broad enough to carry my student debt and then some. His face was all sharp angles and perfect symmetry, pale skin contrasting with jet-black hair. But his eyes—dear God, his eyes. They glowed red, like embers in a dying fire, set deep in his aristocratic face. He wore what looked like a butler’s uniform, but tailored to perfection, hugging his muscular frame in all the right places.
His expression remained perfectly composed, almost stoic, as he regarded me. But something in those glowing eyes hinted at deeper emotions churning beneath the surface.
“My lord,” he spoke, his voice deep and smooth as aged whiskey. “You have finally awakened. After three hundred years, Iferona once again basks in your presence.”
I blinked. Then blinked again. Clearly, the truck had hit me harder than I thought.
“I’m sorry, what?” I managed, eloquent as ever. “Three hundred years? Lord? Look, I think there’s been a mistake. I’m just Beau, the guy from OpenSesame customer service who got intimately acquainted with the front of a truck. Speaking of which, shouldn’t I be in a hospital? Or, you know, dead?”
