“Prince, you are mighty indeed, but God’s power is much greater than yours; we dare not obey your orders.”
“Well,” said the prince. “Then I will conquer God too.”
- Hans Christian Anderson, The Wicked Prince
In the lands bathed eternally in the brilliance of the sun, there is a boy who hates the light. He is beautiful, with fair skin and hair; dressed in disorderly but resplendent armor. He is accompanied by an army of horrid and twisted creatures that obey his every command. In his right hand is a long and terrible blade called Doubt, that constantly whispers in its master's ear, telling him what his foes dread most of all.
For him sleep is seldom, and his grotesque army marches ceaselessly. All that stands before him is ravaged or conquered, and those who live through their defeat are cursed forever by the Prince's kiss - for they are transformed into one of his horde. Each of the terrible things are unique in shape and form, twisted by the very failings that led to them to this fate.
He has sworn to rid the world of shepherds and their flocks, to bring an end to the sanctity of the weak and make all the world his own.
He is the Wicked Prince, and his reign would mean the end.