Euthanasia

Chapter One- The Broken King and His Undoing

Euthanasia (yoo-THen-azia; yo͞oTHəˈnāzēə): Also called mercy killing, is the act of putting to death painlessly or allowing to die; deliberately ending someone's life to relieve suffering.

A king knows how to use his crown. He holds his jewels high, presenting the heavy golden design for all to see. He holds his secrets close, shielded from his enemies. And most importantly, he never shows his emotions. Never express love or happiness, it shows his people weakness and allows threats to cut him down. I learned this lesson before I knew what becoming a king meant.

It was the first thing my father ever taught me.

I repeated it to myself over and over, as I sat on a wide balcony, from the palace in which I grew up inside. I would spend the most time there, on starry nights, looking at the sky for answers, and gazing at the empire below with knowing eyes. I would rule everything one day.

That would be a statement that happened sooner than anyone expected.

Though the city was a brilliant sight, with thousands of small shimmery lights and towering buildings, it was not what I was most interested in as I peered at the endless land beyond the castle I was trapped inside for so long. The stone walls of temples and houses, or the markets where hundreds of people gathered to buy and trade, never caught my attention like the dark oak forest beyond them did. Its trees grew high into the sky, and their leaves covering the opaque trunks of the trees under a thick roof.

Even from such a distance the silky red and white spotted mushrooms, that grew just as tall as their neighboring oaks, brought a sort of glow to the forest, the colors contrasting with the deep green and smooth brown of the timber. The most captivating thing about the forest were the fireflies that gathered there. I learned this when I escaped from the palace for the first and last time.

On the night of the Blood Moon festival, a seven-night party that only happened once a year, when the moon turned a stunning shade of deep crimson, I snuck through the quiet halls and slipped out the palace through the servant door where, though many servants mingled, excluded from the festivals, no one would stop me. But as I bounded through meadows on the outskirts of the city, making my way to the forest, I was spotted.

I made it though, unaware of the soldiers on their way to stop me, and despite being at the edge of the ethereal forest for a few minutes, it felt like an eternity, before inevitably, being caught by thickly armored guards gilded in gold, a symbol of the king's wealth.

I remember thinking about how magical it was, silent glowing bugs lit up the night sky and the darkness of the mushroom and oak forest brought upon a sort of mystery that made me want to go further in. I would have if my father hadn't kept such a close eye on me. I also remember how the cold hands of a metal suit wrapped around my arms, pulling me away as I fought against their grip.

Though, no matter how hard I tried, I ended up with twenty lashes for my troubles, done by my father's own hand.

After that incident I learned a new lesson: never dream about such foolish things. I never gazed at the stars again, I only looked down at the ants in the colony, being the people in a city spread out underneath the arrogance of my family's power, with a newly formed frown.

Despite my father's strictness I was taught well. I rose from the ashes as a leader, forged from fire and steel.

My mother was terrified of the monster I was slowly becoming. I could see the pained expressions on her face when I willingly did the things a child should never do, whatever my father asked of me. That fear became far more obvious when I killed my first man before my sixteenth birthday.