Once Upon a Hero(s)

Prologue

Prolougue 

“Bring them to me.” She said. The girl pushed back heavy locks of white blond hair. She scrunched her nose, thinking how better it would be it would be if she cut it. The door opened and a man strode in, his back straight. His eyes were cold and calculating. He handed the girl a small box covered in broken bits of shells. “Thank you.” She said and carefully set the box down on the table in front of her. She placed her index finger in the box’s keyhole. The man next to her put a hand on her arm. “What?” She snapped.

                “Are you sure about this?” the man asked. The girl laughed.

                “You sound so cliché. Of course I’m sure. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” She paused. “And neither would you.” She reminded him. He lowered his head.

                “I’m sorry.” He said, regretfully. “I was only looking out for your wellbeing.”

                The girl didn’t answer. “Just go, Captain.” she sighed.

                He didn’t move. “A servant's place is by his master.” He said simply.

                She didn’t respond. She turned the finger that was in the lock of the box. It clicked open. The box didn’t look like it had anything in it, but the girl reached in anyways. She pulled out five round stones. The Captain coughed, obviously covering a snort.

                “Small things are often hiding big secrets, Captain,” she reprimanded. She closed the box and set it aside. “Knife, please.” The man pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to her. She held it over her index finger and without hesitating; she brought it down on her finger. Blood oozed onto the wooden table and pooled into growing spots. She put her bleeding finger over the small cluster of stones. As soon as her blood touched one of the rocks, they glowed with a different color. The first one turned a vibrant red; the next one turned a salty blue. White blew across the third and green crawled up the fourth. The fifth turned inky black.

                “The tears, Captain.” She said calmly. The girl wasn’t bothered by the unnatural phenomenon that was happening.  He handed her a small bottle filled with clear liquid.

                “Blood of a victim,” She muttered under her breath. “tears of a dead man,” She poured the liquid over the stones. It washed away the red stains and then dried up. The stones brightened with even more vigor. You could see patterns in their glossy surfaces. The red one sported waving flames and the blue one looked alive with the running ocean. The white one appeared to be floating in the air, with the patterns of the sky. The green one had leafy vines sprawled across its surface. The black one stayed the same. “and the breath of a living seed.” The girl finished.

                “Brietta,” The captain started. She frowned at him and shushed him. She leaned in and breathed on the stones. The small luminous stones rose in the air and spun in circles toward the ceiling. Brietta watched them until they touched the roof.  She sighed and rubbed the side of her face with her hand.

                “Test one is a fail.” She said wearily. The Captain looked down at her.

                “Do you want me to get them?” He asked.

                “No, their energy will run out eventually.” She looked away, disappointed.

                “Brietta, look.” He said quietly.  She turned around to him and looked up at the ceiling. The five stones had arranged themselves into a straight line. They were falling toward her. She grinned and didn’t move back.

                “Brietta, move!” The Captain hissed. She laughed.

                “No, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Stay here, Malcolm.” She said, using the man’s first name. The vibrant crystals stopped moving, all except for the white one. It stormed forward at an incredible speed. The captain tried to pull her out of the way, but she jerked away. The pebble smacked her in the stomach, sending her sailing backwards into a bookshelf. She slid to the floor and clutched at her middle. The rock had burned through her shirt. She looked down at the stone plastered to her skin. It seared as though someone was pouring boiling water down her front. The stone moved up, leaving her skin red and raw. It stopped at the base of her neck. Wind whipped around the room. Books and papers flew off the shelves and gathered in a whirlwind in the middle of the room. Computers were torn up, their cords ripped from the wall sockets. Her eyes were getting heavy.

                “Brietta!” The voice floated through the air, but she couldn’t answer even if she had wanted to. The pain and the clatter made her want to go to sleep. She closed her eyes to the whirlwind of agony and chaos.