Tyrant

Chapter 1

Once, my father told me that the stars in the skies were the eyes of the Gods and that they would always protect us like they always had, but where were they when he arrived? Was my father lying to me? I'm not sure, but I do know that he isn't one of them.

The day he arrived at the kingdom's gates, he demanded an audience with the king. It was denied in the spot, but he wouldn't stop; day after day, the entrance of the kingdom of Khaaljan was startled by his presence until one fatidic morning, The King granted his so requested audience. The people in the streets could feel the evilness beneath his skin as he was escorted to the palace. I was there with my father, the king, and witnessed everything. His mere presence alone was almost enough to make my six-year-old self almost break into tears.

In the last decade, the kingdom fell under the dominion of that demon, Shykros, and the other nations have formed an Alliance whose name escapes me. Still, they have managed to contain the darkness into the kingdom of Khaaljan. 

But even though it happened ten years ago, the memories stayed fresh enough for me to suffer from them. I remember everything, the way he left footprints full of dirt on the bright red carpet as he entered the throne room, the way he refused to kneel before my father, the way the grin on his face looked while the king was interrogating him, the way he killed him before throwing the corpse away, the way he sat in the throne as I ran away. Since then, I had been living in the streets, robbed of all hope and filled with despair, but that wouldn't be strong enough to shuffle the fire inside of me, the need for revenge.

One morning, a woman approached me as I was wandering the alleys of the residential district.

"Hey! Stop right there!" The woman shouted. I glanced at her as she was standing right in front of me; she had a dark blue cloak covering her entirely, even her face.

"What do you want, Lady?" I asked firmly, trying to scare her off with no success.

"Are you the king's heir? The lost prince?" She looked agitated all of a sudden, so she stopped for a moment to take a big breath, "Are you Antholius?".

I felt startled by the name; it sounded as it was a stranger's one, "I hadn't heard that name in a long time, who is asking?" I questioned as I leaned to try and see her face.

"My apologies for my bad manners" She bowed before removing her hood, revealing a long white hair accompanied by some shiny red eyes, lapis lazuli earrings, and a gold tiara, "My name is Kalyr, the leader of the Freedom Rebellion, a pleasure to meet you, your highness" She presented before kneeling upon me.

"No need for such things," I said, a bit embarrassed as I was helping her to stand back up, "So, you were looking for me?" I asked, a bit confused, why would the leader of a rebellion look for the son of a dead king?

"Yes, but I don't think we should discuss such topics out in the open. Someone or something might hear us," She warned calmly, watching over her shoulder, "If you will, my prince" and went off the alley, expecting to follow her.

After a short walk through a street full of houses that looked a bit abandoned, we arrived at a brick wall. I was going to intervene before a door appeared right before my eyes in where a wall stood; a kind of sorcery of some sort was happening in that place, something beyond my comprehension, but I didn't complain and followed the woman inside. We entered a long hall of white walls with blue markings in the form of animals and gold ornaments; at the end, it could be seen a wooden door, which I presumed was the Headquarters entrance.

Before the wooden door opened up, Kalyr said something that I didn't quite hear, and then the door finally opened, revealing a vast room that was quite empty. We made our way to a tent in one of the corners. As we walked, I saw some medics, soldiers, and that kind of stuff. Inside the tent a person was waiting for us, General Zeren it was called.

"Welcome, your Highness. We are joyful for your return" Zeren smiled before kneeling; I felt uncomfortable for such things.

"Please stand, please," I said almost in a hurry, "So why were you looking for me?" I said as I was trying to compose myself while looking over some papers on a nearby table.

Kalyr sat in a well-made chair by the table and explained carefully how the Demon's Army was pushing them into a risky situation, between the wall and the blade she said, and how they heard that there was a legend that said, "The one chosen, the one that has royal blood in their veins, the one that was blessed, the one brave enough to face the darkness, the one that shall free this world of all evil, would win the war against the Devil." They didn't think it was real at first, but it all changed when, six months ago, a message from a recon unit stated that an envoy from Shykros's army was intercepted with indications to capture me alive.

"We thought that everyone that was blood-related with the king was killed that day, but it seems that we were wrong after all," Kalyr said with relief in her face, "But we aren't out of the woods yet; we must recover our forces," She said firmly, standing from her chair.

Zeren explained briefly that we could start with the neighboring nation, Khuibutor, where we could get some military support. Kalyr and Zeren kept discussing what to do so loudly that they didn't even seem to notice that I had left the room; I needed some air because this was too much to process so quickly. How did a sixteen-year-old boy get into such problems? Could I fulfill Kalyr's expectations? Or is death waiting for me just around the corner? All those thoughts were streaming through my head, and the was nothing I could've done about it.