The Lost Kingdom

Prologue

From above, where screams of terror were muted, King Aaron watched his kingdom burn.  The gods had artfully painted the sky with fire, brushstrokes rising into the smoky cloud. Red flames spread across the land of Pulcharius, an epic fire that would destroy everything the defeated King held dear. Smoke curled like claws in the sky, smelling of acid and burning his eyes. He desperately wished that the tears staining his cheeks could somehow put out the fires, extinguish the heat, but it was a wistful thought to the core.

Night Dragons, born from starlight, continued to blow fire onto Pulcharius, wreaking more havoc and killing more souls. King Aaron closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight, but even then images of fire and desolation flashed before him. In his final hours, he would be haunted by his own failure. His hands gripped the railing of the balcony, knuckles turning white.

When he reopened his eyes, the image in front of him was only worse. Destruction rained down on Pulcharius like a storm of fire, forcing people out of their homes- if they could make it. Such a sight made the king so furious that he wanted to crush Drago Vladmeer's head in his hands, but knew he had nowhere near the strength. The only one good thing he could see, off on the distant shores, were his people climbing into ships. Some burned before they could sail away, but a few ships were making it across the dark waters, escaping the grasp of Malifimus's fire. 

He heard the footsteps of his wife behind him, and Queen Mariposa's arms wrapping around his torso.

"Aaron, you know you couldn't have done anything about it. Malifimus was too much. Pulcharius was bound to fall." she said in her gentle tone.

The king turned to face her. He smiled his thanks, but knew she was wrong. He could have stopped it. He could have made better choices. No, he'd never admit it, but he was the reason why Drago was evil.

Drago had alway been jealous of Aaron. The two had been brothers, born of parents from rivaling nations. As Drago took the throne in Malifimus, Aaron took the throne in Pulcharius. Being king of a better kingdom infuriated Drago, and so the war started. The war to be the better king. That was would never end. Not unless Drago conquered everything. Only then would he think himself better.

Mariposa looked at the king with the saddest violet eyes. Those that held the fear and pain of the falling kingdom. No doubt, King Aaron's eyes reflected the same feelings.

Interrupting the brief moment between the king and his wife, a boy rushed into the room, his face covered with soot. His brown eyes were wide, and his breathing was fast. His brown hair was ruffled, and his clothes were messy. 

"They're coming, your highness." he said in between breaths. The king could see clean streaks down the boys face, the paths of tears, and this ripped at his heart, 

"Run, child." he told the boy. "Run."

The boy shook his head. "No, my king. I will not leave you here alone. I will fight beside you. I will die for this kingdom."

The boy looked only about fourteen, an age that was so far from the end of the line. How could the king let this child die like that? The king knew there was no way they would win this. He stared into the boys eyes, and knew there was no way he could change his mind. With a deep sigh, he nodded.

"You're a brave soldier." He told the boy.

The boy smiled at his king, a tear slipping down his cheek. He turned to stand beside King Aaron, and the three Pulcharians watched the door to the room, waiting for Drago.

In this time, Aaron thought about what death would be like. Would it be painful, and would he be thrown into an abyss of forgotten souls? Or would he go to a place of love and kindness, a place he always dreamed of?

"Hello, brother." Drago sneered. At this remark, the boy tilted his head. Not many people knew that they were brothers; Mariposa was one of the few, and he could feel her stiffen. 

"You do not deserve a welcome." he growled.

Drago laughed, but there were no humor in his black eyes. "It seems as if I didn't need one," he sneered, "I strolled in here as I pleased, didn't I?"

King Aaron narrowed his eyes. "I know why you're here."

Drago's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Oh you do now? I wonder how you ever figured it out."

"Ellamenta will stop you." Mariposa promised firmly, and Aaron shot her a pleading look. 

"Ellamenta fears me. King Ezemar is a weak fool and knows he could never defeat the empire I have built," Drago hissed, "The empire that will never be defeated!" 

Drago's eyes were bulging as he spoke, his voice rising, and his skin, which was tainted an unhealthy gray, turned red with anger. "And now you incompetent nuisances will die!" 

Beside the king, the boy looked desperate. Aaron hated seeing him like that. Seeing someone understand how hopeless he was.

Drago pulled out a long dragon blade, one newly polished and shining. He pulled the boy towards where he stood, grinning evilly.

"Please, Drago, spare the boy and Mariposa. You want me, not them," King Aaron pleaded, but deep down knew it was a waste. 

"Spare him, you say?" Drago asked. "Ha! As if."

With those words, Drago plunged the knife into the boys chest. The boy stared straight at the king, blood dripping from his mouth. At this sight, a tear fell from the king's eye. He hated to see a small boy die like this. Drago dropped the boy and pulled the knife away, wiping some of the blood from the blade.

"No!" Mariposa yelled.

"Now for your lovely wife, Aaron." Drago said, traveling over to the queen, who's brown hair fell in front of her face.

King Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to view his wife's demise.

"Oh come on, Aaron." Drago sneered. "Why don't you watch the show?"

Drago twirled his knife, a grin plastered on his face. With that, he slit the queens through with a quick swipe.

A sob caught in the back of the king's throat. He watched as his wife crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled around her, staining the stone floor. Turning to the king, Drago twirled his sword.

"Any last words for you?" He asked King Aaron, victory glinting in his dark eyes.

"What a cliche thing to say," King Aaron growled. He glared at Drago. "Go to hell."