Peter Koevari - Prophecies Awakening

This great stronghold was now home to thousands of women, men and children. They earned their entry with gold, trade, or through those who held the power to influence. Some, if they were incredibly lucky, were awarded it for service to the crown. The city had prospered, and many trade routes were now well-established. Some called it paradise, most who lived within its walls simply called it home, but all who walked the lands of Marithia knew the city as Greenhaven.

Only a soft swell of wind granted any hint of her presence as Nymira landed as gracefully as a butterfly on its gleaming walls. She took a brief moment to steady her grip in the cracks between the stones, folded her great wings, and scaled the walls to find a window overlooking the great throne room. After what felt like an eternity of searching, she found one and peered inside.

The throne room was filled with dusty beams of vivid yellow light as if it were lit from the heavens. Intricate furniture and beautifully painted walls provided an air of elegance to Greenhaven’s royal quarters. Great statues of heroes throughout the ages were almost brought to life by the many colours of the stained glass windows. Statues of powerful warlocks, armoured knights and two dragons were neatly arranged in the corners of the room. Nymira recognized herself in one of the statues and smiled as memories of the ancients returned to her for but a moment.

Greenhaven’s royals wore only the most elaborate clothing available in all the lands, woven by both human and elven hands and detailed with patterns taken from nature. They were a stunning combination of rare furs, jewels and the finest of coloured silks. The king was no exception, dressed today in a jade coloured garb, but the beauty of his attire did nothing to hide the expression of anger on his face.

It was not the first time that Vartan had knelt before his king’s throne, but he feared somehow that this would not be a pleasant meeting.

“How could you allow this travesty to happen? She was almost killed, Vartan! I trusted you with her life, and after I granted you care of Helenia, this is how you repay me? Look at her, damn you! I demand an explanation!”

Vartan drew a deep, ragged breath into tired lungs surrounded by heavily bruised ribs, removed the bloodstained helm that was partly obscuring his vision and took a brief moment to observe the room.

King Arman and Queen Andrielle had produced only two children, Princess Helenia and Prince Derian. The two differed from each other in every aspect, and had never gotten along in their childhood. Derian sat comfortably beside the king, with a sly smirk on his face.

He’s enjoying this too much, thought Vartan.

Vartan’s instincts told him that the attack on the royal guard could only have been so successful if the assailants had known precisely where Helenia would travel, and the exact number of knights that would accompany her on her journey. Derian was one of the few people privileged enough to be entrusted with such sensitive information, and he hungered bitterly for the power of the throne.

Andrielle was the Queen of the Elves, and with her marriage to Arman she had forged a new alliance between humans and elves that would see the two races joined for eternity. The king was still young, and the wait to inherit the crown through his father’s natural death was too long for Derian to bear. The prince threatened more than the stability of Greenhaven. If the Elven Queen were ever to be harmed by human hands, it would ignite bloodshed the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the ancient war.

Vartan looked to Helenia and was momentarily lost in her beauty. The princess’s face was kind, her skin pale from lack of exposure to the sun. Her bright blue eyes looked deep into his soul, and he managed a smile before quickly looking away. Princess Helenia could only be wed with the unconditional written approval of both the king and queen. Suitors from other settlements would soon be seeking her hand in marriage, looking to forge alliances and further strengthen Greenhaven.

The love between Vartan and Helenia had existed in secrecy for many years. He was a mere farm boy turned knight, whose only tangible riches were those that the crown treasury allocated him for performing his duties to the throne. What hope could he ever have of gaining the royal blessing to marry the princess?

Vartan placed his crown-provided silver helm down beside his right foot with a loud thud that echoed far down the corridors of the royal chambers, and began to speak slowly through his cracked lips. “Your Highness, we barely escaped with our lives. How could we possibly have been ambushed with such precision and timing? This attack could not have been solely the work of thieves and vagabonds. They were armed with weapons forged by skilled hands, and fought with a purpose unlike that of any thief engaged in battle.”

Be careful, Vartan. I sense true darkness around us.

The elves held many well-kept secrets; Helenia’s ability to speak through minds was one of many elven gifts she had been born with and practiced privately with Vartan.

Forgive my intrusion, but she speaks the truth, young knight.

This voice was unknown to Vartan, and it sounded almost bestial. It held such immense power within it that Vartan was left momentarily stunned.

There is something you must see, and it is of great importance. Open your mind to me, and I promise you will come to no harm.

Vartan focused hard on clearing his mind and felt a sudden jolt as a connection was made with the dragon suspended from the outside wall.

With a blinding flash, Vartan found himself hovering above a place he’d never seen before, a dark room lit only by soft candlelight. It was as if he was within the walls themselves, and had become one with the stone. He heard the soothing sound of water as it gently trickled somewhere beyond the light, and soft footsteps approaching from afar.

A tall figure slowly materialised from the darkness. It wore a crimson hooded robe and had a small dark wooden chest in its hands that rattled heavily with the sound of coins. The hood hung low and shielded the face of the figure inside it, but there was something painfully familiar about it, and a wave of uneasiness overcame Vartan. This was evidently not the first time that they had met.

Calm yourself… this is only a vision, thought Vartan.

An old wooden table bearing various marks of wear sat alone in the darkness. The figure hesitated for a moment before walking towards the table cautiously. It slowly began to be illuminated by brighter lights which revealed the intricate golden artwork on his robe. The chest he held bore the royal crest of Greenhaven.

That’s not possible! Those chests are only given to-

Yes, young knight, your eyes do not deceive you.

Another figure approached with much haste from the darkness, and Vartan felt sick to the stomach at his presence. The new figure swiftly pulled his hood back from his head to reveal himself and spoke quietly but forcefully. “It is all here. You are well-compensated for your troubles.”

That’s Derian! I should have known.

“That may be so, young prince. As you know, she will be well-protected and this brings a certain element of danger which our kind does our best to avoid. What of the royal guards?” asked the mysterious man.

Derian's eyes narrowed at the man. “I’m sure you can handle some guards, can’t you? Or should I seek out someone else for the task?”

“Your words are unnecessarily sharp, young prince; doubting our abilities is an unnecessary wounding of our reputation. I hear many whispers of a loyal knight who leads them on this journey who has a particular talent of disposing of demons. What do you know of him?”

Derian sighed loudly, reached into his robe, and snatched a white scroll bearing the royal marks of Greenhaven.