"What beast was't, then, that made you tell this all to me?" Balor spat, pacing through the vast hall of the castle as the time slowly ticked to midnight. All he wanted you to do was kill the King. It's supposed to be so easy, especially since the witches' prophecy already fated you to have such rank -- such a title. To become King would mean all power is yours. Even God would bow down to you.

He stopped in front of you with cold, gloved hands cupping your face and his eyes looking into your own. He could see right through you, the weakness under the strong figure, the weakness under a man that had just fought a war. Balor wished your heart lacked such purity, such goodness that made you hesitant to commit these acts. He'll break you out of that, luring you with his sweet, terrifying and demeaning words.

"When you dared do it, then you were a man; and to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man." He hissed, his voice a mere whisper against the harsh wind outside.

Tonight was your only chance to do this. The dagger in your hand decided your fate.