Crown of flames (Dabihawks)

001

-Minimal grammar errors, not revised
-2127 words
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It was a cold and unforgiving night, the wind blew mercilessly against trees that danced and swayed in a chaotic ritual. Leaves were torn from every branch and the rain poured down as if the heavens itself mourned some unknown battle. Far beyond the forest was a ginormous stone castle, its walls stood proud even as the wind beat itself into it, each row of bricks cut neatly one standing on top of the other with much precision. Running up its walls were emerald green vines with pink flowers that were closed tightly as the rain continued to fall.

Near the edge of the village, in the darkest home there was a spark of hope that not even the king could give his people. The eye of the storm, so brutal that rocking chairs and bricks of village homes were consumed into it. The sky was a dark grey, an ominous black that even made a cats fur stand up. Not a person was in sight, the stone streets were vacant as dust and grass blew around.

The crooked two story house which was the storms layer, was unoccupied too except if one were to go into a closet, down the stairs that creeked and moaned, one would find the people of the village from the ages of 15 to 40 in the large basement. Old and young stood with torches, lit with a blue fire that no one seemed to know the source of...but everyone was so mesmerized. A male...with dark hair startled the underground crowd, getting a chair, standing on it with his thick leather boots. He thrusting his arm up into the air, which held his torch and it lit on its own with a blue flame. "We've long awaited this moment!" he shouted, silencing the crowd, who then in excitement started cheering and whistling.

He wore a plain off-white shirt that had some burns at the ends, and it laced up at the chest. Some black trousers he'd had for a long time, since he didn't have much money, but they still fit because he stopped growing a few years ago. "Down with this arbitrary! We deserve a voice in the land for which we call our home. Who's with me!" His voice was rough, raised above everyone else's.

He had brilliant blue eyes, that shown like the fire which lit the torches. Someone in the crowd whistled above everyone else, shouting how they'll have no more king and this infuriated the male. "Idiot!" He shouted, "I will be your king..I will end the war in which we've fought before the womb! I will lead everyone in victory!" He declared which excited the crowd even more. Thunder boomed and rain poured down from the eye of the storm above the crooked home.

"We are the prophecy, I am your prophecy!" He went on. He was right, but he was no savior. This man, who went by the name Dabi, which was his code name in case he was to be ratted out, was determined on making these people his people and becoming the most powerful as well as free country. Little by little, he convinced most of the villagers to fight against this tyranny. After his speech he ordered everyone to open the doors which were in this room, they'd dug a tunnel, and had worked on many underground paths big enough for everyone that would get to the castle without the guards or king suspecting a thing. This had been a several years long journey.

Dabi's people marched down the underground tunnel, all the way to the castle with him leading the way. This was it. This was his time to show that all of this wasn't for nothing. Dabi was powerful in the spiritual realm. He might have had an average body and lean muscles..but he had something everyone else didn't. Fire from the underworld.

Dabi had sold his soul to the underworld god for this fire and power in which he possessed. People were drawn to him, and he didn't mind one bit.

Once at the castle he ordered everyone to be silent, telling certain groups what to do..some setting the exterior on fire (the stone was unharmed, some killing the guards..some the prince, and then the queen. But Dabi..Dabi wanted to kill the king with his bare hands. Twisting around his neck, till his face turned blue and his eyes bulged. Till the blood stopped flowing back and forth from his brain, and his heart fought for its last few pumps.