The mass of clouds gathered together, like an army mounting to war; ready to strike down whatever was in its path. Thunder echoed after every whip of light that struck against the earth, accompanied by the tears of the sky that thrashed against the window pane like bullets.
Undaunted by the rage of droplets that knocked against the glass, the Queen stood with her nose almost pressed against the cold surface of the window. She could see nothing in the darkness.
Hopelessness such as she never felt before closed around her, and she embraced it, not having energy enough to fight it. Perhaps the Heavens felt as if she did? Perhaps this was only what welcomed the great fall of the Magick Realm. The Highest Kingdom of the Ancient Five.
Why for? Why for would these rebels turn towards those of the dark?
A sad smile appeared on her face. She knew, or could atleast guess. It was her.
Their Queen. Their Queen of the tainted blood. What would the mortals call this? Discrimination? Racism?
She sighed.
The five Realms were to fall. Her own realm was to fall and the Philips Reign, with it.
Where was the Council? Why did they not defend the five realms?
The sound of the doors to her chambers thrown open jolted her to a start.
Micah, the young enchantress, the Queen’s lady, hurried in with the baby prince in her arms and the 3 year old princess holding her skirts behind her. Micah’s face was pale and betrayed a terrible anxiety.
A fresh slab of dread slammed against her heart.
“What’s happened?” She demanded hurrying to take her son into her arms. He was asleep, dozing peacefully as if there was nothing awry with the world. There was nothing to distress him, and for a second, Queen Audrey envied him. Only for a second.
Princess Clarissa on the other hand felt the wrought of fear around her and her large doleful sky blue eyes, wider than usual, were beginning to moisten up. Micah took her into her arms, patting the little princess comfortingly on her back.
Her eyes though met with the Queen’s and she cleared her throat hastily.
“The Grounds have been breached,” she managed. She waited for the Queen to swallow this before she continued. “We must flee the castle.” As if on cue, several warriors marched in, dressed in their velvet red robes with the hilts of their swords emerging slightly as a visible threat to any who crossed them. The warriors. The Warriors of the King.
Stark fear gripped her. They ushered her out to the corridor, usually lighted with the glow of the stones of Magick but instead was now almost pitch black. Why did the stones not light? She had so many questions and it seemed obvious that there was not any time for answers.
“What about my little princess?” she asked. Her youngest. The new born who’d been taken into hiding in the other realm. That was the main thing on her mind, apart from her husband who was no where to be seen. Why hadn’t he come for them himself? Was he safe? Alive?
“She’d be safe, your majesty,” the deep voice of the warrior that spoke was familiar. “There is no crossing between the realms.” This shocked a gasp out of her. No crossing? Her daughter was stuck there?
She squelched the feeling of horror that rose at the idea and instead focused on the two of her children with her. They were in danger.
She knew who the warrior was. Owen Xeron. He was the dearest to the King, though treated as fairly as any other of the warriors.
He paused and summoned for light.
The flame that appeared flared up into a roaring fire in the form of a four legged animal. A dog? No, it was a wolf.
It padded before them, lighting up the whole corridor and hastening speed out of their party. They followed the corridor going forward, not turning left, nor right to the branching hallways until the Queen realized where it was they were heading. The library.
She knew of a secret doorway in the library’s study where in the old days, maids would bring up tea for the royals and only tea because food was not permitted. The passage led down to their living quarters, almost like a small town beneath the castle, out towards the woods in the direction of Sylon.
Suddenly, noises rose up around them and the corridors were swept with people running back and forth. Confused, the Queen looked around her but could not quite see through the body of warriors around her.
A loud booming noise arose up from somewhere down stairs, repeatedly echoing throughout the whole castle.
“What’s going on?” the Queen asked. It was Micah who answered.
“The rebels must have reached the gates. They’re trying to force it open.” Maids, Cooks and even the gardeners were hurrying by them. She recognized a few faces from the small gaps between the warrior’s tight circle around her.
“The castle staff. They’re arming themselves,” Micah explained. “The warriors have their hands ful-“
“Arming themselves? No!” the Queen objected. “If things are as bleak as you say, than they don’t stand a chance. They should flee!” Owen stepped in.
“We tried, your majesty. We tried to persuade them to leave,” he explained, a hint of sad admiration in his voice. “They are ready to give their lives for the Reign of the Philips.”
“There will be no more reign after this! I will not let them give their lives for nothing-“
“If you live, your majesty, you and your children live to fight another day,” Owen’s reply forbade any more protests.
That statement seemed to somehow reassure her, so she followed quietly and didn’t say another word.
The hallways they marched through were filling up with people, hollering and shouting out quick updates on the little war that was going on. She could literally feel their fear emanating from them like black smoke and still, she was proud to see, their bravery did not let up. If they were going down, they would go down fighting.
The library entrance came into view but no feeling of relief came with it. There was still no sign of her husband. The loud booming noise from downstairs seemed to somehow grow in strength before roaring out the sound of victory.
The rebels were in!
“Hurry your majesty!!”
She quickened her pace, running with Micah and the warriors towards the back of the library.
The sound of glass breaking, swords clashing and people screaming erupted around the castle. The Queen tripped, and a spike of terror pierced her as she held her child tighter, but the warriors were fast. Owen and a few other men caught her and steadied her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
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