Epilogue

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Note:
Look, I couldn't do it, I couldn't fit your critiques into it, feel free to rewrite passages from the previous chapter and show me where these issues can be amended because I sure as hell can't find a way to do it
You know who you are ^^
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In that old, untouched English forest, there is a pathway. A pathway that warps your senses. A pathway that leads to an old timey way of living. A pathway that leads to a little village, oppressed by the iron fist of whoever lives in the stone castle on the hill. A little civilisation hidden in the forest. A little civilisation that believe in fairy tales.

When you look at it, you would never know that for hundreds of years, there has been a village of people living there. You wouldn't see the signs. That's because you can't see where the world shifts. It's like you've stepped into another dimension. Maybe that is what you do.

When you walk through the forest, you'll find it, you'll find the world that lurks within a heavily polluted England. You'll find the world from which you cannot escape. You'll find bliss, heaven on earth. Also known as The Willow

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The village is in a new form of serenity. Nothing about it looks like it could be the same place, except of course, the appearance upon first glance. Everything about this place is different. It's bright and airy and beautiful, not dark, dreary and dead like it once was before the new rulers were crowned. Since that joyous day eight years ago today, The Willow has sprung into a frenzy of new life and vitality. The tribal elders of the Queen's old village would vow that the grass miraculously turned at least two shades greener as the crown was placed on the head of the new rulers and faces of the Arragon family.

The elderly couple hobble, weak at the knees and frail of body, toward the centre of the village. Today, is the day that the first dragon prince since Drayce Arragon will be freed to potentially meet his bride. And as per usual, the men and women of the village were being extra protective of their kin, keeping them locked in their rooms, protecting them from the powerful royal bloodline.

But there is always one little girl who has the nerve to try and escape. Almost twenty years ago, it had been the oldest daughter of the Eldridge family. Vivian and Justin Hunt begin to muse about who will be the lucky girl to escape from her hope and potentially become the fiancée to a prince.

As if on cue, a woman with thick matted curls of caramel hair slams her door open. "My daughter! She's not in her bed! Amalie, she must have woken up when I took a nap! God only knows where she may have gone!"

"Please calm down Mrs Hill, it'll be fine. We will find Amalie. Don't fret." Despite the sleep deprived mother's hysteria about her missing daughter, the idea of becoming a chance bride isn't as taboo as it once was. Maybe it's because one of those brides is actually running our land while the King, King Drayce Arragon the Passive, is simply her right hand man.

The village elders make their way through the village and into the woods, waiting, hoping to feast their eyes on the face of Cardelia Eldridge's son. Both Vivian and Justin wonder what kind of powers the new prince will have. Water, like his deceased uncle? Fire or plant life, like Prince Nezbit the Sadistic or Prince Darius the Noble. Maybe even metals, like his father. Only the scales on his face will be an indicator, for by the time this prince weds, they will be long gone into the realm of spirits.

They spot the prince, laying curled up on a boulder, in basically the same place that his father had done, while the young Amalie Hill lay beside him on the warming grass.

The sun breaks through the canopy of trees, welcoming the dawn of the fifth sun and truly symbolising that a new generation has been secured for the Arragon family; Amalie Hill will wed the boy with the brownish scales on his chubby cherubic cheeks. She is the next chance bride of a dragon prince.

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