You sit on your throne, overlooking the shadow realm you had created. You were the master of the darkness, ruler of the night and all the creatures that came with it. A worthless pack of rebels decided to start a puny revolt, but everyone in the realm knew it was futile. You had thousands of dark soldiers that were completely controlled by you. The revolt was bound to crushed and you waited for your servant to tell you the news of their demise. Raven flew in through the window of the room, his form twisting into the human version of him. He bows deeply in front of you, his head hung low as he waits for your permission to rise. You tell him to be at ease and he smoothly strides toward you.

“Dark Master, the revolt has been permanently terminated. The Dark Soldiers swiftly took care of them, as always, Master.” He said, his tone respectful. He stepped to the side of your throne, waiting to be dismissed.