LOKU, A king’s tale.
Loku was the most feared king of all the isles. His subjects cowered, their mouths tied tight. His presence commanded others to bow their heads.
The tyrant raised his sword to the sky. Loku towered over his kneeling subjects. Next to his feet, their produce rotted as the farmers said nothing.
Loku stared down at them, unblinking. The farmers could not fathom meeting his eyes. They had one god in the isles, and it was the king who held his blade to their throats.
“Do you want your family’s livelihood to end within your generation?” Loku asked.
The sun fell from the sky, as did his blade. The people’s tongues fell and decorated the palace grounds. Loku sat peacefully on his lavish bed. Seemingly all-knowing eyes closed. His kingdom slept as he did.
Yet a divine glow intruded his sleep. He scrambled to his feet and picked up his sword. Loku raised his blade, but its tip disappeared from the holy light that suffocated his quarters.
Loku stumbled backward, falling on his rear— his blade with a loud ‘clang.’ His guards barged into the room.
Nothing.
Not a sign of their king in sight. Soldiers sounded alarms yet responded with cheers when asked why. Loku hissed at his men, promising a silent demise. He crawled to his blade and faced the image of a lizard on the metal. The soldiers ignored the lizard. They picked up his blade and threw it out the window.
The sky cleared, and the sun rose, yet Loku’s blade remained forsaken. F
