Immortal Gain
Writingprompt: To become immortal, one must merely kill an immortal.
"Sire, it is done."
From atop his throne, the old King opened his eyes and looked upon the returned knight. Though his sight was poor, he saw the tarnish and wear upon the once polished and gleaming armor, the mark of a terrible but just deed accomplished. Even the uniformed white cloth was stained in red.
The King eyed the knight for some moments, and then with a weary sigh, waved him away. The knight bowed in respect and promptly exited the throne room, no doubt preparing for yet another quest.
For some time the King sat quietly upon his seat, contemplating where his soldiers might go next, who his remaining foes might be, and how many men had thus far died to fulfill his cryptic but absolute commands. The returned knight had proven to be the finest to serve him in some time, capable of leading the armies with a gentle but firm hand, keeping the casualties to the bare minimum. But he was far from the first to serve as the right hand for the King, and he would most likely not be the last.
So many years... So many lives claimed for a singular goal.
Then, as he always had done when alone after receiving such solemn but welcomed news of the accomplished deed, the King slowly lifted himself from his seat with creaking bones, and he moved to the side of his throne. Placing his frail hand upon the runes carved into the sides of his throne, words he had personally etched so long ago, and he gently pressed the hidden character.
The throne groaned as stone slide upon stone, and it moved back to reveal a dark and narrow staircase. His noise wrinkled at the stale and chilling air that emanated from it, and with another weary sigh, he began to descend.
The design and purpose of this secret path was simple. It was a direct route to a single room that lay deep beneath the castle, built so long ago that only the King knew of it. Or rather, the King was the only one still alive that knew of it. Since he began his rule, caution and paranoia had always been at his side, providing a careful and guiding hand on his actions. The stonemasons who had built this staircase had been royally compensated with a hefty amount of gold and land, and they were invited to celebrate their accomplishment with a feast along with their relatives and friends. As written history knew it, they had been slaughtered by savages from the wilds, and it had forever since been known as the event that marked the beginning of the crusades; the everlasting march against all current and future enemies to the kingdom. And so it would remain as known. Though homage was dutifully paid to the stonemasons who would be always remembered as admirable and loyal citizens who were unfortunate enough to draw jealous attention from the kingdoms enemies, only the King knew of their unwilling sacrifice to him, and he would forever remember it clearly, ensuring the stain on his soul would never be forgotten.
Down and down he descended, taking each and every stone step with tiresome but deliberate movements. There was no torchlight to shine his way, but he needed none, for each curve and edge within the passageway had been burned into his mind long ago from his numerous passings.
But when he did finally reach the base of the stairs and found himself standing before simple room, a light did appear; a soft white glow that washed against the stone walls in radiant fashion. The King paused to gather his strength, letting the light refill his troubled heart that all his actions hadn't been for naught. No matter how much blood would be spilled, he always felt cleansed within this light, always felt his determination rekindled like a flame being brought back to life.
After basking in the glow, he did finally lift his head to look at the source, and he gazed longingly upon the large crystal the size of a man that hung suspended in the air.
When one looked upon its ornate shape, one would immediately know its brilliant presence was not something that should be hidden away in some decrypted cellar as it were, nor should it be viewed by only one man. It was something that would be viewed by all, or rather, demanded to be viewed by all. For if one would stare into its fathomless depths, one might catch a glimpse of twinkling of stars that would put even the most clear and grandest nights to shame, and they would feel a sliver of the enigma that was chained within the crystal. So overwhelming was its otherworldly presence that bespoke a natural authority upon all that looked upon it, men would find themselves bowing their head in service either by humbleness or fear.
But the King did not bow, nor had he ever. In all his encounters with the celestial, not once had he shown a single moment of servitude towards it.
"Must you always come admire me?"
The heavenly voice projected command and obedience in its reverberation, causing even the stone to shake in attempts to obey its word as they had once done long ago.
Yet, while washed in its literal right to rule, the King simply walked forward as one would to an old friend, hardly paying the voice's after effects any mind, and he peered into the crystal. With a wheeze he asked, "Even after all these years, you still do not enjoy my presence?"
"Your mind rots as does your body. No mortal within my existence has earned such malice."
The King croaked out a laugh. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." He placed his frail hand onto the crystals surface and leaned his head forward, squinting from close inspection. "Though, I must admit, I do find myself reminiscing the earlier years. How long ago it feels to me, yet, I imagine it must seem as if only yesterday for you."
"And before my tomorrow, you will have become nothing but bones, the end to all the years you wasted on this folly."
"Perhaps," he replied wearily. "Perhaps..."
Peering into the misty depths that attempted to block his vision, the King at last spied what he was looking for, and he gave a toothy smile. "Not too many left." He muttered under his breath as he counted the stars he saw within, memorizing how many more statues he would erect when all was said and done; an eternal reminder he would hold to himself. "Only a handful, it appears," he said as he pulled away. "A band of survivors in the Boar's Spine Mountains? Or perhaps a hidden village in the wastes..."
"Even with all the armies at your command, all your struggle into power, you will never catch that which you seek. Always will you fail, always will one live to remember. It is only a matter of time."
"And always the dramatics," the King retorted. "You shouldn't look to the future so begrudgingly. After all, no one ever knows what it will hold. Perchance you will actually enjoy it."
"The only thing the future holds is your kingdom lying in ashes after I have unleashed my fury upon it. There won't be a single soul left to remember this ill-begotten kingdom, nor the foolish King that attempted to obtain that which cannot be obtain. You very existence will be swept from the world."
The King laughed once again, and he placed his hand on the crystal. "I do enjoy these talks of ours."
He then peered into the crystal again, looking over the remaining lights he would need to extinguish. But within their center, glowing more brightly than the rest, was a star that shimmered whenever the King touched the crystals surface, and he smiled at its sight. "Whether I become immortal by planned means, or by forever remaining a dreadful stain in your memory, I will be immortal. In the end, only I shall be remembered by you, or only you shall be remembered by me, thus is the price."
The room shook as a voiceless force cried out in fury. The stone began to warp, the air became both chilled and heated, and shadows appeared in the corners which began whispering dark promises that would make any normal man flee within a heartbeat.
"Yes, soon enough it will only be I who remembers you," the King calmly spoke, his voice cutting through the unnatural forces that gathered around him in a show of might. He pressed his hand more firmly on the crystal, imagining the day when the contained celestial energies would seep into his weary body and fill him with strength. "Soon enough, I will become a God."