A
ugust watched the bloodbath from a tree. The trees on the planet of Urbanus were very tall, but August could still smell the smoke of the flaming arrows as they soared across the battlefield and sunk into men's flesh. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the acid spewing from the war monster's mouths as they gulped down any soldier that dared to come near.
The great monsters roared with fury as the riders on their backs whipped them into devouring the men below, chomping on their bones with gruesome crunches. The beasts were three times the size of a horse, but ten times as hideous as the ugliest horse in the world. Blood mixed with mud caked their scaly skin and their dozens of sharp toothed mouths opened and roared acid breath upon the rampage that lay before them. Fires erupted in trenches, swords glinted in the moonlight and men ran to their deaths with fear in their hearts. Screams of pain filled the air and medics ran back and forth, setting splints and carrying injured bodies away from the wrath of the beasts.
The other side, the army of Summanus, did not have monsters, they had technology. Catapults were launched and giant rocks soared through the air like black ghosts before they curved to the ground and smashed into the heads of the beasts. A monster's head was crumpled under the rock and it slumped to the ground, crushing its rider beneath its heavy body.
August's eyes widened in fright. There…. was a spider on the branch he was sitting on.
"Get back you filthy creature," he spat at it. He drew a knife from his sleeve and pointed the sharp tip at the eight-legged insect.
The tree shook. August risked taking his eyes off the spider to look down. A man with an arrow in his belly had crumpled at the base of the tree. The man looked up.
August, using his inherited powers of illusion, became invisible. The man died. August turned his attention back to the spider. It was scuttling closer, wondering if August was there or not. It could sense him, but it couldn't see him. August stood up in the tree, his feet braced on two branches. As the furry spider reached August's foot, August stomped on it with all his might. It smushed flat and August made a disgusted sound.
Not wanting to remain in the tree with the dead spider, August started to climb down, being careful not to get dirt or twigs in his shiny black hair. As he lowered himself from branch to branch, the view of the battle disappeared behind the tree's enormous leaves. August swung from the last branch and dropped to the ground, next to the dead man.
He looked at the soldier. The rebellion soldier had walked a mile with the hopes of escaping the war and escaping the medics, who simply kill patients that don't have a chance. August smirked, his green eyes full of humor.
"What were you even fighting for?" he asked the dead man. The dead man didn't reply.
"Were you fighting against my father?" August continued, "The King of this planet? Do you know that he doesn't even plan on keeping Urbanus? You just lost your life for nothing!"
August laughed, but it was short, cold, and humorless. He sighed. Leaning down, he patted the man's head. "Don't worry partner, we both have been played by King Summanus. And I'm the Prince! His son!"
August left the dead man to contemplate that and started making his way back to his palace. The war was drawing a little too close to his position in the tree. He wasn't worried about a couple stray soldiers wandering in the woods, dying from the battle or running from the battle, but the beasts were monstrous things that he didn't want to encounter. He just hoped they would stay within the city limits and not wander to his hidden palace in the country.
The sun was sinking below the treetops, and orange light flashed through the thick foliage. He felt a cool refreshing breeze blow through the trees and brush against his skin, trying to sweep away the smoke and death that hung in the air from the battle a mile behind him.
August trekked through the forest and walked through the fields of waving brown grass until his palace came into view. Most people would see only a broken-down shack and would have an overwhelming sense to turn away, but August was granted by the magic to continue on his way, walk down the stone driveway, and enter the magnificent building.
And it truly was a magnificent building, but it was growing dusty and was acquiring a hollow look, like a shell and like August. The gardens in the back of the palace were overgrown and choked with weeds and the front yard was a mess of shrubs and branches. No servants bustled about, no horses knickered and kicked at the stable boys, and no pots of tea boiled over a kitchen fire. Only August, protected by the magic of the palace walls, remained inside, safe, and yet very much by himself.
August was the Prince of Urbanus, the Son of King Summanus, and yet now here he was, squandering his days hiding in a palace because of the Civil War and his family's abandonment.
August closed the front door behind him and walked down the marble halls and past the throne room, not giving the gray quiet room a glance. He walked into the amphitheater, his shoes padding softly on the red velvet carpet. Before he entered the servant's hallway, he took a lamp from the wall to light his way.
Down the hallway, the grand marble and carpet turned into stone and any light from the palace windows was extinguished. August took the wide stone stairs into the basement. His lantern tried its best to fight back the shadows, but there is some darkness that is more than an absence of light. This darkness was thick and consuming, full of whispers and sadness.
There were three rooms in the basement: the royal weaponry, August's private chambers, and the music room. The doorway to the music room was impossibly large, reaching up to the high ceiling. It was wide enough for two war beasts to walk through, side by side. August entered the music room, holding his lantern out before him. The light revealed a black grand piano, sitting alone in the middle of the vast room. August set his candle down on a stool next to the piano to light his music.
He pulled out the piano seat and sat down, his back straight, his right foot firmly on the floor, and his left foot on an angle, ready to press down on the foot pedals. He poised his hands above the piano keys, his long fingers ready to dance. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts turn into nothing. Then his eyes flew open and with a sharp intake of breath, he leapt into action, his hands jumping nimbly up and down the length of the instrument, creating beautiful combinations of melodies and harmonies. The music rose and fell, swelling into happiness and then dying into despair. It filled August's mind and vision, letting him think of nothing but the music.
After a few minutes, the animated music slowed down to just peaceful chords. Then August started to sing. His voice was a dramatic tenor that would be considered beautiful if it wasn't for the oddness of the sound, barely deciphered. Like a hint of madness and confusion blended with perfect pitch. August sang words that involved the evil and darkness that he had been living in for so many years. The inward torment of his heart and mind in the solitude of the castle. He sang about his past, and how happy he had been. He sang about the betrayal and the hurt.
"The darkness of the sins of men
Have crept into my soul
Every hope gone again
To dark places that no one should know
It takes my joy with it
And ran away quite full
Down dark hallways unlit
To sleep it now me lulls…"
Suddenly, August couldn't take it anymore. He stopped his flowing music and knocked the candle over, plunging himself into pitch darkness. He stood from his piano seat, delirious.
"This is not how things were supposed to be!" he screamed into the pitch-black room. His voice echoed down the empty corridors as if mocking him and his solitary life.
He collapsed, crawling under the piano, as if afraid of something. Grasping his head, he rocked back and forth, remembering things he didn't want to. His eyes strained to see, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. When a person is alone for such a long time, especially a young person such as August who craves attention like the breath of life, it eats the mind as time wears on. And August's mind has always been weak, even before the Civil War had started when his family left him.
August crawled out from under the piano and fled the hall, out the single enormous door, and up the flight of steps. He stumbled up the castle's empty amphitheater rows and ran down the marble hallway until he reached his favorite small reading room.
"I need to stir the fire," August muttered, breathless, giving himself something to do, something to distract him from the sudden panic that had risen against him. His hands were shaking, but he calmed them by grasping the kindling with a clenched fist, letting the rough edges bite into the palm of his hand.
He piled the kindling he had collected in the forest into the fireplace, stirring the ashes back into a fire. After it was warm and crackling, he sat down in a chair and let his thoughts overtake him, the flickering shadows from the fire dancing across his face.
"How long have I been wasting my time in this wretched castle?" August exclaimed bitterly.
"You are not yet eighteen, August. You have not yet reached your full powers, and will be captured easily," another voice answered, echoing inside August's head. It was his perpetual torture, talking to him both day and night. But company was company and he talked to himself like a man talks to another.
"When I reach my eternity age, I will escape from this prison," August gestured at the dusty floors and the overgrown front lawn, "and stop my father's plans of the Elven invasion."
"Or you can just leave it all alone," the voice proposed. "Turn your back on your family, since they have turns their back on you. Go out into the world with your powers and find a nation to rule, like you were born to do."
"My father," August addressed the voice, "wants to attack Arkhaven, the beautiful land of the elves. He will attack them with the help of Urbanus, this very planet that I grew up on! That's why this whole Civil War," he turned his face to the window, gazing at the flames, "is a fruitless cause. It's all for show. King Summanus and Lieutenant Baily, the future leader of Urbanus, will make an alliance to attack Arkhaven, and soon, those Urbanus soldiers will be fighting alongside Summanus soldiers to kill innocent creatures of innovation and beauty."
August sighed. Maybe he should warn the elves of the plan against them, so they would have time to prepare. Or maybe he should join his father in the looting of the elven technology and land. There was a struggle within him, a choice between good and evil, and by no means was the choice simple, but August might be the only one with the power to save millions of lives.