Per 
The king and his darkness
The good king sat on his throne, everything he could see was his, he could do whatever he wanted. This was the way it had always been, the people looked up to him, they hung on his every word, and he treated them like his children. With a word anything the good king wanted was there, he could get what he wanted, and what he wanted was to protect his people, his hive was precious to him. He had cheated death to remain king, his subjects needed him. the devil challenged him to a bet and luck was on his side. But endless life comes at a cost, he had angered things beyond his realm. The priests prayed for him but he could not be helped.
His lords and scholars and squires kept warning him the end was coming, a unseen threat to challenge his power. The plague of darkness wasn't just the end of his subjects, it was the end of everything, a wall of dark steadily eating reality itself. The good king had denied it, even when he knew he couldn't hold on to his people much longer.
But his selfishness in denying the end had come at a cost, the cost of his people, they stopped looking up to him and turned there gaze downwards. He was distraught and vowed to get respect from his people once more, and to put an end to the end.
With his word the people worked and laboured for weeks and weeks, the best scholars and engineers from all of the kingdom had a problem to solve. At the end of the month the people presented the gift to the king, a machine to change the future and prevent the end. The good king himself was to go back, personally, and stop the death and the darkness of the end. He was wished on by his own people, there was a grand ceremony, he was given the finest clothes and the finest food. But these were just distractions, he had some where, or some when to be. With a flash he was gone and the people sat down to wait for there good king and saviour to return to them.
The good king arrived in the other time, a time before him, his people, or anything he knew. For weeks and weeks he searched and found dark and surreal worlds, and the darker and stranger things he found there, which where beyond anything he could imagine. His world was becoming like a dream, nothing made sense or at least the order of things, his memories seemed backwards. Everything blended together. Eventually, after years of searching and not a second of finding the king collapsed to the ground, he had failed his people and himself, trapped in his dreamlike world. He had lost all hope.
He ventured, tired and exhausted, back to his machine. He tried to travel back, he couldn't help his people, but he could return to them, to comfort them before the end.
His machine was worn down and tattered, once fit for a king, it was in pieces, a shadow of what it once was. He had pushed it too far. The universe tried to tell him to stop, to stop him causing the end. But the will of the good king could not be stopped, the machine was being pulled along by the good kings anger and will to save his people. But he had pushed it too far, he collapsed into the space around him, fusing with reality, he had started the plague, the illness that killed his people.
And there he lay, in his timeless form, the difference between consciousness and unconsciousness had broken down, there was no difference between him and what once was his kingdom, or his people, or his machine to end everything. his tears were suspended in memorial of who he used to be, and his desire to help, and how it was the end of him.
The universe said to him “let this be a lesson to you, some things you cannot cheat.” He realised he was the reason so much suffering was caused to his subjects. Now he was with his people, they all suffered similar fates, they fell into the dark and deadly plague, and became one with the good king, the king and his darkness.
