The trees were dark again that night. As they always were. At midnight they seemed more like huge poles that sucked in the darkness than living things giving life and oxygen.
He trudged through the dark forest, only avoiding trees by dodging the black pillars. His eyes tried to adjust, but the thick canopy above him would not let any moon or starlight illuminate his path.
The first night he had been here he could’ve sworn the forest was the darkest anything could be. Then he saw the tall columns, seemingly even darker, and discovered they were only trees.
He remembered the days past when he had been treated as a king, never having to look true darkness in a face. A servant or maid followed him wherever he went with a light, lighting his way with the radiant, orange light of candles.
But that was before. Before the incident had happened. Before he was banished from his home. Exiled to the forest.
His removal from kingship had been at once the low point of his life. But now he embraced the darkness, embraced the fear he had initially felt at every sound and smell.
The darkness was his.
(short, yes, but I have several plans to expand it to fit in with a larger story I’m writing)