Legends start somewhere.
Disclaimer: This is an original fiction and all characters, settings, ideas, etc., belong to me.
Black mist expelled from her mouth when she exhaled, her grimy and sharp teeth clearly visible from where he stood. She inched closer, the poison still falling from her breath, the small black particles floating to the ground below. The grass and plants beneath her decayed; the trees she'd brushed against on her way through the forest were already dying. Her white skin didn't make her seem pure, but just a being of another world...
He stared at her black eyes directly, unmoving. He kept his right hand clenched tightly to the hilt of his sword; the tip was settled into the ground and the blade ran parallel to his upright form, but he was not too slow to move it up in defense if necessary. Well... 'if' made it seem as though there were a possibility he would not strike her down, when really it was the reason she was standing before him.
"You have defied me long enough," she rasped, leaning ever closer to his face. Her nose was a mere inch from his when she stopped, and while he didn't flinch the noxious fumes coming from her nose and mouth were making his eyes water beneath his helmet. "Now you will pay with not only your life, but your eternal soul."
He lowered his head slightly and took a step back. She saw it as a retreat, but while he stepped backward he brought his long black sword up into an attack stance. He took one last look at her-her white skin faded into black where most humans have feet, and feathered into what looked like a dress but trailed like a mist, or even smoke. Her black hair flew wildly in the air around her, and her hands had faded black as well... probably from all of the blood staining her claws. He briefly wondered how this all had happened, but it didn't last long. He knew he had to end this; it was the reason they were both here.
"I am sorry to say that you will not have my soul tonight," the brave knight spoke from beneath the black helmet that masked his face. "Nor will you take my life..." he raised his head to look at her once more from beneath the golden sheath that covered his eyes. "It is I who will take yours."
And thus the dark knight of Di'arca raised his sword to the goddess, creating the only legend in history to involve deicide.
Comments/critiques welcome. Thank you for reading.