He came at midnight.
Not through a door or a portal or a rift in reality. He simply appeared, coalescing from the darkness itself, his form so vast that he blotted out the stars. He had no fixed shape he shifted and flowed like liquid shadow, his surface covered in faces. Millions of faces. Billions. The faces of every soul he had ever consumed, screaming in eternal agony.
The defenders of Last Light saw him and wept. Not from fear from despair. The Hollow King's presence was so overwhelming, so wrong, that it made the very concept of hope seem like a childish delusion.
Lee stood on the battlements, Dawnblade in hand, and refused to weep.
"HOLLOW KING!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the darkness. "I AM LEE ZAOU! I AM THE LIGHT BRINGER! AND I AM HERE TO STOP YOU!"
The Hollow King's form shifted, condensing into something roughly human shaped a towering figure of shadow and hunger, with eyes like dying stars.
"Little light," the King said, and his voice was the sound of civilizations crumbling. "You think that blade can harm me? You think your hope can burn me? I have consumed a thousand thousand worlds. I have devoured gods more powerful than you can imagine. You are an insect. Less than an insect. You are a thought that I will forget before I finish speaking."
"Then forget me," Lee said. "But first fight me."
He leaped from the battlements, Dawnblade blazing, golden light streaming behind him like the wings of a phoenix.
The Hollow King laughed.
And the battle began.