Zelek was holding on for dear life against a stable rooted tree he had lunged for; Zillah holding on next to him, her face taught with worry.
His entire body was shaking with the strain his muscles had to pull in order for him not to be swept into the sky. Gods- she was strong. He was groaning at its strength.
The shifter- long forgotten as it clawed for its freedom; gruesome nails digging into the soil, the trees thick roots like an anchor.
How much more of this peril?
The wind, was growling to the world as its diameter grew.
To no end of power, Aloysia raised her arching head to the sky, sending a gush of wind swirling like a tornado above her, sealing any paths toward the assassin and allowing her to remain in its center, battling the trees in the process.
The eye of the storm.
It's spiral grew ravenous as it devoured each and every living thing in its state of power.
It felt threatened, and was finally awake enough to do something about it...
Her body began to crumble, the expenditure emanating from the dagger.
And with a final cry of terror, Aloysia collapsed and the veins climbing up her neck retracted.
The wind around her collapsed with the dagger still lodged in her chest.
Zillah fell to the ground harshly, cursing at her torn garments and skid across the plain, thoughts running wild as she avoided the stone breaking away from the walls.
"Aloysia!" She screamed, dropping to the floor instantly; carefully picking up her head onto her knees, stroking back her tangled hair.
Her body was thin- deathly pale... but the blade. The blood was dry as she grasped the pommel, counting down before ripping it out of her sister.
Zillah had expected a rush of blood to ensue, but to her surprise, none came.
The top, torn to shreds, the ends fraying and her skin mucky with filth- but the wound.
Was a scar. A black scar that outlined the width of the dagger lying by her side.
It had healed itself. The only reminder of what had happened was the cut through her top, directly where the blade had entered.
Zillah bit back a tear, her head falling to Aloysia's chest to find a heartbeat.
Faint. But there.
How? How had she escaped death?
Zelek held onto her shoulder compassionately, squeezing it as he looked at her expectedly.
"She's alive.. barely"
They both stared at their sister, gulping loudly.
"How?" He pushed out.
"I don't know... but now is not the time"
Carefully, Zillah struggled to lift Aloysia, the dead weight lighter than anticipated but heavy all the same.
"We need to get her out of here- more soldiers could come back and she is in no state to defend herself"
She glanced at her bleeding leg. "And neither are we"
Zelek caught the glance, nodding at her and shifting all of Aloysia's weight over to him.
They had to get out of here now.
-
It didn't make sense. Nothing ever did but gosh- he didn't know how much more his heart could take.
The stress was piling with all the responsibilities dumped on his shoulders.
Even when he did not wish for Mort to have control, Liam was not yet coronated... which meant the power fell to him for the time being.
Liam protested, shouted like a lost toddler at the claim- but he was over ruled.
Mort seemed most fitting, and gave the reason that Liam was not in the right headspace... almost like claiming insanity.
Liam was outraged, betrayed by the very people he sat by everyday in court.
Everything was tearing at him now. The loss of everything- he was loosing it.
His mind was almost at the brink of insanity. He had not slept, nor ate for the past few days; stomach aching with hunger, completely famished.
Yet he ignored it, even ignoring his own appearance, not bothering to change, comb his hair. Nothing.
The Prince was a wreck.
No wonder he wasn't given temporary power.
But one question overruled the others... who killed his mother.
It hurt him to think about it but he needed too, desperately clawing for that answer. They say it was the shadow, but the wound on his mother did not match that of her dagger.
And he knew that because he had seen her use it in that alley. Of course, no one would believe him.
So it left the question as to who, other than the shadow would kill Celimine?
Liam left that question un-answered as he carefully avoided small bits of fallen rubble trickling from the walls.
Liam wanted space, time, to find out everything.
Running from Elianna's room, which hung a different question over his head as to what happened with the Princess, his sweat drenched body headed to the courtyard out front. He just wanted to wander, like a toddler with no responsibilities.
Passing stunned people no longer surprised him, and he could hear the king babbling on like a child in a tantrum about his hatred towards the assailant of death.
Sighing to himself as his body riddled with questions stewed, he decided the only place he could find answers was his mother's study.
Although it pained him to allow memories that shattered his heart time and time again into his mind, he had no choice, the hazy fog of confusion was too much for him to handle. He needed answers...
Reaching for that handle that concealed so many secrets, he braced himself. The key, that was bestowed upon him lay weightless in his hands as he turned the lock.
The mechanism inside the door clicked, and with one swift movement, the door was unlocked.
Turning the shiny metal with a squeak, a book littered room awoke to his presence. It's familiarity hitting him like a brick. He held his breath.
Hundreds upon thousands of books housed by shelves, storage units and her desk, lay scattered.
No longer in order, her books were in disarray, but not damaged.. somehow the unbalance from the outside didn't affect his mother's study as bad as the rest of his home.
Pristine oak wood floor, ladders adorned on the cases to reach the very high ceiling that hung a giant chandelier. The room was well lit, and situated in its centre stood his Mother's desk. It had aged since he was a child looking back at it now.
He hated ripping open a fresh wound so soon and this certainty would, but he had no choice. It had only been a day... only a day since she's been gone.
His breathing became shaky as he stepped further in, gently closing the door behind him. This was her study ever since she was a teenager, and now... it belonged to him.
His heart warmed as he could remember countless memories flooding back to him when his eyes glazed over the broad wooden chair with a leather backing accompanying the bustling desk.
He choked back a sob as a smile edged its way onto his face.
//
"The soldier thanked his saviour, and looking into his eyes, he said, 'Thank you'. With that, the world was saved and the war ended. It was time the world was born anew, The End',"
A small toddler clapped excitedly at his mother who beamed brightly at her child; holding him securely on one arm, with a book in another, rocking back in a wooden chair. She placed the book on her newly carven desk as she brought her growing son to her face, giggling when his grubby hands reached for her face in fascination, and shining back, was a smile filled with unconditional passion and love for her little prince...
"I am old enough to choose my own books now mother, I can use the ladder to reach them ok!"
The 12 year old pouted, looking at his mother while recklessly reaching for another book, "I'm not a child anymore!"
"How impatient are you?" She questioned, watching as her little prince -yes, still little- walked glumly toward her, pulling on her dress gently to let her know he really wanted this. The Queen sighed, carefully placing the book she had chosen back in its slot, looking at the boy. "Please!" He begged. Huffing playfully and giving him a cheeky grin, she nodded, ruffling his messy hair. The boy beamed at his mother, soon darting off, hands running along the spine of each book he passed in search of the perfect one...
"Any book recommendations mother, I have finished The Tales of night" A tall gentleman spoke deeply while placing the dusty book in an open slot high above the ground bookcases.
"Goodness my son" Celimine laughed, "You are running me dry of idea suggestions"
The Queen arose from her desk slowly, and approached her son, holding the old ladder in place as he stepped down, ensuring his safety. The once sturdy oak, was now worn from constant use. He eyed it sceptically.
"I think we need a new ladder" Liam huffed while descending the last step, "it's getting a bit old like its owner".
She gasped, cheekiness lining her eyes, earning a slap against his arm, to which he laughed, "Im kidding, I love you really"...
//
Liam couldn't hold back, tears streamed down his face as the hollow void in his heart cried out. Cried out for the warm touch, the infectious laughter that brought a smile to his face in even the toughest of days. All of those memories revolved around the ageing desk, the countless books collecting dust.
Her desk...
Her desk...
The one place he never ventured. Liam had always collected books from the shelves and storage units for years, but never her private desk. Oh no he would never invade her privacy.
But there was something edging him on, to open it, to find that key that revealed her secrets.
He traipsed round to her desk, fingers gliding over the scarred wood, and stared intensely at the keyhole. "This is going to take a while", he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair.