Cover art by yours truly. Medium: Coloured Pencils and Fineliners.

Farem woke up in a nice, comfy bed forged from pure darkness. A distorted voice stabbed him from behind. “Hey…” it whispered, the darkness clutching him ravenously. “Good morning, my hero hubby…”

That voice belonged to no one else but the Dark Lord herself.

And Farem, the legendary Hero, was her husband.

Judging by this peaceful, domestic scene, nobody could've guessed these two were trying to kill each other six years ago.

***

Six years ago, the world held its breath. They would kneel in prayer for one man—the Chosen Hero of Light. His name was Farem Afari, standing alone before the final battle against the embodiment of evil—the Dark Lord.

His golden hair fluttered in the wind like a flag of hope. And those bright, blue eyes of his, shimmering like raw aquamarine, had charmed nuns and made tavern maids swoon.

Though chipped and scarred by war, Farem’s armour was always shining in the sunlight. His feet trembled, but his heart pumped with courage. The world wished him good luck as Farem unsheathed his gleaming Light Blade and calmly walked into battle.

“Insolent mongrel,” the darkness growled. “You who dares tread on abyssal grounds, know that my trident will smite you to the heavens beyond. Now kneel before my crown, worm.”

The Dark Lord was coldly beautiful. Her skin was pitch-black, smooth and flawless like the surface of a still river. Her eyes were pure white, devoid of any pupil or sclera, yet hardened warriors would often get lost in them, forever drowning within her snow-coloured mascara.

Instead of black, her hair was a silky lake of silver, each strand dripping with pure abyssal menace. And, gosh, nobody could forget her smile—that cute, mischievous grin that had brought many a king to their knees.

In this world, she only had one purpose: to shroud the land in a bitter, black void.

They eyed each other, both wanting to devour the other alive. Farem bravely raised his blade, prepared to unleash his ultimate attack…

Then he froze.

The Dark Lord tilted her head, confused.

Sweat rolled down his head, and Farem blurted out:

“Wanna grab dinner sometimes?”

Baffled, the Dark Lord pointed her Abyssal Trident at Farem. “What sort of trickery is this, Hero?” she asked, her voice seething with rage. Was he not taking her seriously?

No, he was taking her very seriously.

“Nope, I mean it,” said Farem. “I know a good dumpling place. Or do you like noodles? Are you free on Friday?”

No one had dared to speak to the Dark Lord herself so casually before, let alone ask her out! How preposterous!

And very, very interesting.

“Hah!” she scoffed. “You amuse me, mortal. Very well. We shall meet when the moon devours the sun, when the earth is consumed by my divine veil of darkness. If I do not sense your mana presence on our planned meeting date, I will lacerate your corpse to pieces!”

“Yep,” Farem smirked, pumping up a fist of victory. “See you at six.”

Then Friday came, and they both showed up at the right restaurant. Although Farem had forgotten to give the location, the Dark Lord had tracked down his mana presence—just as she promised. She had worn a gilded black dress. A large hat obscured her petite face, hiding her true identity and her shyness.

Somehow, the Dark Lord quickly warmed up to Farem’s voice… and weird menu choices. “How do you even eat a chicken foot? Disgusting!” She shoved the plate away to Farem.

They talked about many things. Politics. Magic. Dragons. Dragons with no wings. The war against the Dark Beasts under the Dark Lord’s rule. How strange. Usually, her “conversations” with humans would go like: “Curse you, beast!” or “I’ll slay you to avenge my village that you destroyed!” Yet this charming, stupidly handsome man never mentioned any of those things. It felt like she could tell him anything. After a few drinks, the Dark Lord admitted drunkenly that she had grown tired of war. And Farem soberly agreed.

That night, the Dark Lord didn’t get a wink of sleep. She reflected on their battles. On their struggles. How could mortal enemies be friends? He was destined to slay her and destroy the Abyss. Yet he chose to treat her like a normal person! How utterly ridiculous! It must be a trap!

Later that week, Farem invited the Dark Lord to try out the new Manatech-powered rollercoaster. The Dark Lord, proud as she was, declared she would go on one condition: He had to beat her in a duel to the death. So they fought. And stalemated. Because Farem was only dodging and deflecting, but even so, he didn’t let her get a single hit in.

Exhausted and frustrated, the Dark Lord crossed her arms with a scowl. “F-fine! But don’t think this is because I like talking to you or anything!”

Strapped on the rollercoaster, with Farem by her side, the Dark Lord didn’t know what to expect. Thrill, maybe? Fear? No, of course not. Everyone feared her. Not the other way around.

“HERO, YOU STUPID JERK!!!! AAAAAHHHH!! WHY IS IT SO FAAAAASSST???” she screamed helplessly on the sonic-speed train. Farem giggled so hard he almost fell out, but he couldn’t, for the Dark Lord was clutching his arm as tightly as she could.

After the ride of their life, Farem led his date to the theatre. But the Dark Lord refused, sniffling, giving him the silent treatment for making her go on that dumb rollercoaster. But she calmed down after he bought her some [Moonberry Ice Cream]. The Dark Lord never thought human food was so tasty. If she spent more time with the Hero, she could, perhaps, use him to buy more food! Yes, that was the only reason she kept hanging out with him. She didn’t like him or anything.

The play was nothing short of spectacular. A knight and a monster fought each other for eons, yet neither one won. So the knight gambled on a desperate attempt, sacrificing himself to end the monster, once and for all. They both died, but the world would finally know peace. Farem was sobbing uncontrollably halfway through, and so was the Dark Lord. They embraced each other in a crying mess, rivers of tears flooding the whole theatre.

The Dark Lord didn’t want to admit she’d had a lot of fun. “Hmpth. Maybe you aren’t so bad, after all, worm!” she huffed proudly.

One year had passed since then. And on a fateful day in the Dark Palace’s royal court, Farem fell to one knee, holding a golden ring with both hands.

“Will you marry me, my queen?” he gently asked.