Prince of Thorns
The air escaped his dry, cracked lips in billowing white puffs. He trembled, not so much at the cold, but at the number of rotting corpses and skeletons of Princes that had come before him. Princes who had once hoped to conquer the walls of this impenetrable forest, eager to claim a prize as no other, on the other side. He had lost count now as he thought about their Kingdoms and what had come of them upon the loss of their crown Princes. Was he so foolish? What made him better than the ones who now lay before him?
"Foolish," Prince Sione said aloud to himself.
"That isn't the word I should be thinking of now. I will do what no other Prince has done because I know nothing else."
Prince Sione had heard the tales since he was a child. Tales of a Kingdom that was frozen in time, guarded by uncrossable trenches and razor sharp thorn covered vines as thick as the largest man. It had been told to his father and his father before him, that whosoever conquered the obstacles and entered this Kingdom would find a Paradise on Earth. A world that had never aged, never grown forward and never went backward. If one were to become aroused and engage in the spoils of this world, he would be stuck within its embrace forever. He would be dreamily entranced and never recall why he had come in the first place. If one were to press on, into the heart of the Entranced City, he would find something most odd indeed. The Witch at the center of it all, the one controlling the City of the Unageing. If he could avoid being caught up in the wave of mindless slavery he would see that in this city, the humans weren't just human at all, they were werewolves. In that city he would find the Queen of Queens of the Werewolves, the Lycans, and the WItches; the Bella Luna herself, under this Witches spell. And when he broke that spell, the Bella Luna would become his forever.
He had told himself this story countless times during the days of delirium. He had made it down and through the trenches easily enough, but it was the days that blended with night in the seemingly endless forest of thorns that wore heavily upon him. He understood why the Princes before him had perished. One small mistake and one would be impaled upon any number of absurdly large, absurdly sharp thorns. He wondered how thorns grew this magnificent? Magick of course, the only tangible answer. After days of hunger and nights of sleeplessness, he had a few close encounters himself. Keeping his mind sharp, his focus centered, and his every step calculated, he had made it deep into the thicket of briars. The Prince's corpses became fewer now. Not so many had made it as far as Prince Sione. He shuttered as he thought of the victory he would feel once no more corpses were in his sight. He may be a Prince, he may have conquered much in his lifetime and defeated many foes, but a loss was a loss by any means.
His mother had died when he was young but he still called up the moments he had with her. She had been a powerful Priestess. She radiated light, beauty, and above all relentless power. She had taught Sione the natural way of things. Birth and Death. Light and Dark. Give and Take. The natural alchemy of everything you could see and not see. Although she had taught him immense respect for everything you could touch, see, feel, and experience in any number of ways, she had also taught him order and balance. Some were meant to rule and some were meant to serve. Being kind never meant being weak, and to never tolerate someone who isn't in the balance. They must become a lesson for all to bear witness to, no matter the cost.
Prince Sione had lost count of the days. Within the depths of this forest he could see no sunlight. He could hear no sounds. It was as if something unnatural had ripped away the very essence of the world. There was nothing but vines, nothing but thorns, nothing but death. Yet, he found himself staring into the distance, the direction he no longer knew, and he thought to himself, "That is light. There is light there. I feel a presence of life flowing toward me." So he continued in the direction of this life very carefully avoiding the fateful thorns and in no time at all he found himself at the foot of the grandest gate he had ever laid eyes upon.
