Late one night a cloaked figure hurries to a small cottage on the edge of a town of Fairdell. He gets to the door and look all around him. He looks down at a bundle in his hands and then rushes in to the small cottage. He locks the door soundly. He is glad to have gotten in before the storm. The cold wind and rain would not have fared well for his little bundle. He sets the bundle down gently on the small bed in the corner. Then he went immediately to make a fire. Warmth was important now. He had been traveling all night, changing forms of transportation constantly. The city had been in turmoil, and the palace was burning to ground when he had reached the outskirts of the city. The King and Queen were presumed dead, but he would receive word confirming this soon. Everyone in the castle had been trapped inside when the enemy lit the fire. The royal family was gone. Razed right out of the throne. The little fire in the fireplace began to cackle and spark as it grew and soon it began big enough to warm the cold room. It is only then the cloaked figure removes his hood. His striking grey eyes scan the room, as if looking for a hidden intruder. There is none of course, although in reality he is searching for a possible escape route should this pursuers find him here. Although he doesn't think they will.
He goes over to the kitchen and sits at the table. It has all been to much. So much death. He puts his head down, too tired to do anything but be still. The emotional stress of the night finally catches up with him. His stomach begins to make itself known in a restless grumble. But he did not respond. He just sat waiting with bated breath. Any moment the door could bang open. The rain had not started, no one would be hindered by the weather. He sat for another hour before he heard it. A little patter of water beating against the windows. Soon the patter became a hushed roar as the storm finally came. He smiled, despite his grief. Suddenly a flash of lighting lit up the room and soon followed the terrifying sound of thunder. And the bundle he had set so gently down on the bed began to wriggle. He looked over at it, watching to see if it would move again. Boom! The bundle began to scream as it heard the crashing noise. Walking over to it swiftly, the man took the little bundle up into his arms and cradled it.
"Hush, little one. It's alright now. Though you fear the storm, it has saved us tonight." He looked down at the infant child and tense with terror at the sounds of the storm. So little. So innocent. So helpless.
"You're safe now, little one. My little Galen."
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The Secret Prince: The Story of Galen Nightwater
Short StoryGalen Nightwater was only a baby when he was whisked away from his home one stormy night. He knows nothing of his real past, being fed half-true stories all his life. His guardian, Marcus, is a mysterious bundle of secrets that is sealed tighter tha...