2026.11.01 - Villains of a Sort?
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Musical Cue: "Villains of a Sort" by Yoko Shimomura |
Thirteen figures stand in a circle within the shadows of an ancient castle. Each one wears a long, black hooded coat.
"So, is it nearly time for the curtain to rise?" asks the thirteenth, a willowy figure with feathers in his hair.
"I hope so!" says the hulking, six-armed figure of the twelfth, "I signed up for a good fight, not to wait around forever."
"Caution," speaks the eleventh, a tall man with burning red eyes. "We have power, but we each know the fall that can follow pride--or pack."
"Self-knowledge is useful," remarks the tenth, a beautiful woman with black wings in her dark hair, "but let's not be obsessed with it."
"All this endless prattling is really making me quite ill," snickers the ninth, a slender man in clown's makeup. "Light the fire, and let it BURN!"
"By all means, take pleasure in the work," rasps the eighth, a white-skinned, bald woman, "but don't forget the value of a good plan."
"The value of pleasure is easily exaggerated," the dark-haired seventh man says softly, "but, to be quite fair, not to be neglected."
"There is no sweet mystery about this plan," the hard-faced sixth man with silver hair declares in a rumbling purr. "We follow its gently awful stirrings."
The fifth, a woman with cascading golden curls, barks out a laugh. "Sweetie! You're scary, but enough with the poetry. The clown's right. Let's do it!"
The fourth is a big, red-haired man wearing a golden circlet. He growls, "Fools. They've no idea who they're dealing with. Soon, we'll rule all the worlds."
The third, a deathly pale man of noble bearing, offers a nod. When he speaks, his voice rich and resonant. "Undoubtedly, but savor it. The blood...is the life."
"The Light falls. Such is destiny," intones the second, a man in black armor, his breath a hiss. "This will be a day long remembered."
The figure of the first, yet last, raises one gloved hand for silence, then clenches his fist. The others look to him with palpable expectation. Long, moonlit hair frames the skin of his elfin features, and he speaks in a grim, silken voice.
"The Princes of Light shall be gathered. The Door to Darkness shall be opened. Unimaginable is its power. Anyone who dares to oppose it...shall meet certain doom." Nodding to the others, he adds, "You each know what to do."
Around the room, dark corridors ripple open, and every one of the first dozen figures vanishes into shadow. The first lingers, lifting his head to gaze through the shards of a window, where the murky shape of what might be the remnant of a moon hangs against the night sky. "They called you a kingdom...of hearts," he muses aloud. "Yet in their weakness, they failed. Hearts are no answer. We will awaken the Darkness."
Turning away, he steps into the dark corridor that awaits him. As it closes around him, just before he vanishes, his parting murmur:
"The black wind howls...."