It was another cold and chilly winters day in Cornwall, where the freezing wind sliced into your skin and made your teeth clatter. But this was routine for Arthur Dhrynia, a twelfth grade high school student and son to a middle class couple. His father had told him that his family had once "owned vast amounts of land", but to this 18 year old, music and snacks were much more important.
"Hey, Arthur! C'mon mate, you'll miss the bus!" called a young woman from far off in the distance.
Even if you squinted to see through the pea-soup thick fog, you wouldn't be able to spot a bear half a metre in front of you, let alone a far-off woman.
'Ugh, I can't be bothered with school today...I guess I'll just skip.'
Hitting play on his music, turning up the volume to max on his Bluetooth earphones, and walking slowly down the side of the road towards what he assumed was the public bus station, Arthur closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky.
He was unaware of what had happened.
A boiling pain spread throughout his entire body as Arthur was flung through the air like a ragdoll, only to have the back of his head collide with what he could only assume was a metal pole, maybe from a lamppost.
And so, unable to do anything but stare helplessly and confusedly into the eerie red fog, Arthur lay in a pool of his own blood as his limbs and eyelids occasionally spasmed with the last remaining pieces of his life.
All he could feel was an absolute absence of everything but a guttural terror at the rapidly dawning prospect of death.
'...I don't...I don't want to die...'
............................................................................
"Gorthugher, Keslowena!"
'...huh?' internally moaned Arthur as his head throbbed like he had just been hit with a brick.
"Maw baban salw! Sonunda Kral Prensi doğdu!" cheerfully cried a muddled voice, her muffled sniffles making her emotions obvious.
'What is going on?' he thought, unable to move his neck nor open his eyes properly.
The situation was strange. Very, very strange.
Interrupting his racing thoughts, however, came a rasp yet hearty voice, "Gwir. Yaşlı olduğu zaman oğlum ülkelerimi ve krallığımı miras edecek. Yaşadığım sürece onuruna karşı koymayacak."
Rapturous applause echoed painfully throughout the room.
'What language is that?' Arthur couldn't help but question, wincing from the sheer volume of the applause.
As time passed and voices moved along, a familiar song comforted his ears. It was a song his mother used to sing to him, apparently his father had taught her when they married as it had been passed down through his family.
Nevertheless, the voice of what he assumed could only be an angel continued to sing in a foreign language. With nowhere near enough time to process everything, Arthur had noticed one word being repeated constantly.
"Locryn."