Long Live The King
With the sun slowly descending —the halls and the catacombs and the pathway gradually was getting darker and darker. The sun’s rays from the windows were losing its light and the moon barely illuminated the place. Hyacinth could hardly see. If it wasn’t for the torch she found in the bloody catacombs, she would barely see a thing. The torch helped her, but was only able to light up portions of the dark fortress. The fire she created flickers against the dry cold winds. And Hyacinth remains calm but weary as she waits for the creature of the night to sprawl and attack. “Any minute now.” She said to herself, as her eyes looked almost everywhere. Her grasp on the body of the torch tightened when she heard soft footsteps. A sound coming from somewhere in the fortress. The light tapping
- Writer
