Prologue

Prologue

It is said that with the arrival of the first snow storm, winter magic can easily be seen.  The kingdom transforms into a sparkling wonderland filled with adventures and cocoa.  The high court becomes merrier with the season, shedding their fiery autumnal clothes for the cool tones of winter.  Wreaths of holly hang from the doors and sparkling ornaments adorn the trees of the gardens.  To a three year old, it signifies hours of joyous fun.  Snow angels have been created and the Yule tree decorated with tiny suns, with warm cups of cocoa in abundance all throughout her play.  All excitement leads up to the three days of celebrating the princess’s birthday, where parties are held and casters flaunt their magic to the audiences.

Food and entertainment is in plentiful supply, providing the guests with amusement and joy.  The days are long, and the nights are longer.  The celebration is held every generation, stretched out along the traditional three days.  It is a celebration that has been carried out for hundreds of generations, for on the child’s third birthday, she is presented with the Silverton pendant.  Steeped in lore and magic of old, the necklace is given to the Chosen Child, a Silverton son or daughter with the birthmark of a phoenix on their right wrist.

By the time the third night is over, little Arianna is drained of energy and ready for the relief of sleep.  Given free reign from her parents, she has stayed up well into the night on the two previous days, but with the coming of the Sister moons; her lack of sleep floods her mind.  The nursemaid’s gentle hands guide her steadily down the hall, the tottering child close to sleep already.  Yawning wide, she drags the beaten teddy bear by its arm, clutching the soft plush between her fingers.  She does not count the paintings as she normally does, but watches the slowly dimming rugs as she advances towards her chambers.  The grand, white doors come into sight finally, and with a sleepy smile, she waddles through the opened door.

Calloused hands wrap under her arms, launching her into the air.  As her bear drops to the floor, all thoughts of sleep are pushed to the side.  The child swings through the air, delighted peals of laughter singing through the air, mixing with a deeper tone of merriment.  “My little firebird,” the man laughs.  “When did you get so big?”

“Papa.”  The words are full of love, dripping like honey with the all the warmth a three year old child can give.  As the king brings his daughter down onto the plush rug, the child wraps her arms around his neck.  Holding on for dear life, she kisses him on the cheek, a sloppy smack against the dimness of the room.  The usually stern man before her melts, the hard lines of his face giving way to adoration and love, even as another pair of arms embrace them.

“Let her get in bed, Garran, before she freezes off her toes.”  With a gentle smile, the lady of the kingdom perches her petite form on the bed, smoothing her delicate hand over the dark pelts of her child’s bed.  King Garran lifts his youngest daughter in his arms, carrying her to her sleeping place.  Nestling what is among his most prized possessions, he looks over her wrist, rubbing the tiny, crimson phoenix that presented itself at her birth.

“Our little firebird.”  Queen Selene places her pale hand over her husband’s, smiling as their daughter snuggles deep within the nest of blankets.  The lady picks up the discarded bear from the floor, laying the stuffed toy under the covers.  As they settle in for the night, they huddle around the form of their youngest daughter.  Quickly, she falls into the arms of sleep.

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Her dreams are peaceful, filled with swirling skirts and sweet candies.  Magic sifts through the air in the form of twirling ribbons, shifting the cadence of the music.  It is an enchanting dream, full of cheers and smiles.  Then, in a single breath, horrible screeches tear through her celebration, wrenching the child from her dreams of snowballs and presents.  Still lingering on the edge of sleep, fear climbs into her throat as her eyes struggle to find the source of the sound.  Visiosn of monsters lurking in the dark plague her mind as the horrible sounds, high pitched and terrifying, rip through her room once again.  It rakes against her mind, hitching both her heartbeat and her breathing.  Her fear overwhelms her, tears stinging her eyes as she clutched her teddy bear to her chest.  Angry voices drift through the closed doors of her room, confident and commanding, even as horrible beats and shattering yells sound from outside.

“Sound the alarm!  I want King Garran found!”

Throwing her covers over her head, she huddles under the mass of furs, her body quaking with fear.  Her whole body shivers with fright as she clutches the toy with all her might.  Tears stream from her face as she pray for the horrible things to go away.  She is at a loss of what to do, so she remains in her bed, hoping that at any moment the nightmare would vanish into a bright, sunny morning.

“Papa,” she cries as a shattering bang beats at her door.  She stills, holding her breath in her throat.  Cries of “he’s dead” and “the king has been killed” find their way to her ears.  The tears fall harder, mixing with her snot as she shakes her head back and forth, not believing the words she hears.

The screams are louder now, an aching tangle of confusing sound.  She cannot hear anything but the tormented cries of those outside her doors and within the confines of the castle. 

Where is her mommy, she wonders.  What is happening?

“Arianna.” The word reaches her.  The sound of her older brother’s voice is gentle next to her hidden form.  The covers begin to slide over her body, but she tugs them back, hoping the nightmare would go away if she stayed hidden.  “Come on, Arianna.  You have to hide.”

Pulling his sister out from under the furs, he tugs the crying child in his little arms.  The fifteen year old boy staggers across the room with his sister on his back, desperate to save the last of his siblings.  His fear for her safety engulfs him, for if she is lost, then so is their kingdom.  In his hands is a sword, coated in the blood of his enemies.  The sight of his father, slain in his own throne, tosses about the young man’s mind, blinding him with tears that he forces away.  He searches for the hidden door, knowing well that the entrance to the servant quarters is among that stretch of wall.  Keeping his bloody hand wrapped securely around the hilt of the weapon, he focuses on the presence of his sister, letting it draw him onward when all he wants to do it fall.  Aiden fumbles at the bookshelf, the wardrobe, anything that would open the hidden passageway.  He is just about to give in when another figure rushes through the door.  Swinging around, he nearly slings Arianna from his back as he raises his sword at throat level with the oncoming person.

In a flurry of red stained white, Lady Selene holds her son’s gaze.  Her sky blue eyes are marred with pain and sadness, the bodice of her sleeping gown blooming with a crimson stain.  She holds back her grimace, her eyes tearing up as she moves her eyes from her brave son to her terrified daughter.  “Quickly,” she ushers, moving to the left of the boy.  “Through here.  You don’t have much time.”

Pressing a hidden stone, a door in the wall appears with a rough, grating sound.  Another scream tears through the night, feminine and painful, just beyond the barrier of Arianna’s bedroom door.  The queen turns her head to the sound, raising her husband’s sword.  At the sight of it, Aiden sets his resolve.  Pushing his little sister through the gap, he smiles at her once more, his eyes lighting up with a fearsome determination.

“You’re going to be alright, Arianna.”  He kissed his sister on her forehead, wiping away the tears that mar her pink cheeks.  “I promise.”

“Aiden.”  The child reaches for her brother, but with a pained cry, she shuts the door in her face.  As darkness engulfs the young girl, words struggle to reach her ears, muffled by the wall.

The sounds of fighting follow immediately, shouts and a thud landing on the other side.  Arianna cries, her screams getting louder until they bounce off the shadows.  She cries for her mother and her father, wanting them, needing them.  As she beats her tiny hands and kick her feet in frustration and fear, sparks glitter in the air like the dying embers of a fire.  She fights back with all the ferocity a three year old can muster when warm hands reach her through the shadows.

“Please, princess.”  The soothing voice of her nursemaid envelopes her, attracting her attention.  Turning her head, she spies the familiar face faintly.  “Come on, sweetie.  You are going to be alright now.”

Allowing herself to be pulled into the woman’s arms, she rested her head on the shoulder and cries.  The beats on the nurse’s back, wailing for her mother and father.  The nursemaid hurries down the tunnel, toting the flailing toddler through the damp corridors, racing the soldiers who hear the child’s furious cries.  At the end of the tunnel, with a hint of sunrise piercing the darkness of the cavern, they appear to be safe.  Mere steps away from the freedom that she sought for the princess, a series of shouts sound from up ahead just as armed soldiers carrying the enemy crest storm through the tunnel exit.

Reviews

[A. L. Allen]

Wow, this has really captured my attention. Your descriptions are very vivid and beautiful, and I was enchanted by the winter scene you played out.

However, the flow of the story could use some work. You seem to jump around from one topic to another very fast, and I think if you went through and added some paragraphs between your topics to let them slide together, it would really enhance the story.

Another thing that I found was that Aiden acted a lot older than a five-year-old. Try to envision the way a five-year-old acts and incorporate those same mannerisms into that character.

Other than that, I think that this story has some great potential. I'll keep checking in to see when the next chapter is posted. :)

[A. L. Allen]

You definitely added a lot more depth in this second version. I like this one a lot better. :)

I feel so much pain for Arianna, and I really like fifteen-year-old Aiden too; I hope that he didn't die, but comes back later. :)

Amazing job! Your descriptions are even more beautiful than before, and the story is much easier to follow.

Keep it up!

[Sophie]

Wow. This is absolutely amazing, so well written! I can't wait for more! I am engrossed in the plot, I wait impatiently! haha, so good!

[Hazle Eyed Girl]

very interesting. I can't wait to read the first chapter when it comes is ready.