Prologue
314 Words
Fires. Fires everywhere. Intensifying, intimidating. Their sparkles burn in ashes grey, never ceasing. Blaze by blaze, the searing flames only meant inevitable deaths.
The bullets rained down in a never-ending bombardment. Men and women alike screamed and screeched as their lives hanged by a thread. The battlefield was no longer a holy ground. Swords and weapons clattered and clanked under the seething, spite-filled sky. In midst of all the chaos, a man stood still, shielded in armory. His silver sword wielded in pride, showing his victory in blood-stained form. His trophy kneeled by his side, dead and silent, a figure without head. But any dead man could recognize the royal insignia sealed on his crimson robe. The noble King Titus was no more.
The cannons were fired, more likely as a salute to the man in armor than a shot aiming at the innocents. The cannons sent out a gash of bright light into the benighted sky. Under the light, the man’s face became visible, there was a scar trailing down his left eye, leaving him half blind. Still, his blue eyes stood out in midst of the chaos. Never tainted, never dim.
A sudden fog rolled in at a fast pace, blurring him from sight. As the fog died down slowly, there were no bullets, no smoke, no corpses. I found myself standing in the middle of a dim room, my face wet with tears and sweats. A woman’s face came into sight. My sister. Gently, she caressed my cheeks as if saying goodbye one last time. Slowly, her lips parted into a smile, a weary one. She tried to look strong, but her teary eyes only made her more fragile. She pulled me into her embrace, rubbing circles on the back of my head. With one last act, she whispered.
“I’ll protect you…”
- Writer
