Lord and Master

Prologue

Lady Owen brushed past a prostrate man, his face ripped to shreds, his blood pouring like rivers across the floor. The town she once grew up in was silent. Her face was matted with wet tears that ran down her white face. She stared, body after body; the result of merciless killers that left none alive, but none were who she looked for. She caught a glance of something moving in a heaped pile of wooden planks.

"Kretef?" she whispered, gulping and breathing heavily.

Suddenly a bruised hand extended from the pile, jerking violently and the man groaned. Something glistened in the dim light and she squinted to see what it was: a ring. Her ring.

Lady Owen rushed over, removing the planks that crushed her dearly beloved. "Kretef... uh!" he managed to flicker his eyes open but already, he was in ruins as he held firm onto a spear that extended from his left shoulder. "What's going on?"

He simply stared, but the eyelids opened and closed his blue eyes and his breathing was steadily. "Speak please." She begged but he did not answer. His eyes stopped and his head turned to the side, then he stared away lifeless. His last breath of life left him and he was dead. She wept loudly, burying her face into his dirty blue coat.

A horn blew in the distance she looked up in alarm; her eyes darting in all directions. She got to her feet and turned; circling and scanning her area panting heavily and wheezing for air. Her striking eyes were a worried expression. The second horn blew and she began running again stumbling over lifeless bodies which never got her far from the enemy.

She scuttled through the woods sparing no effort, glancing back now and then, gasping for air. The branches tore her skin as she brushed past them hurryingly; she was crushed by faith and betrayed by all whom she loved.

Someone was watching her. She was a mere innocent creature who he can't cease to look at. She was beautiful. She was perfect. But nothing can stop him now. He stared, waiting for the right moment where he would make his move. There it was; her white dress was trapped by thorns thus there is no escape.

The man surged forward; he couldn't stop the gold knife clutched so firmly in his hand and soon her white dress was gushing red like a blood drop in water.

"How could you..." she said in a dying whisper. The man didn't say anything but allow his tears to run freely. It was something that she could not understand. Slowly her hopeless eyes closed unhurriedly and he kissed her forehead, and then brushed her gold hair away from her pale face. A moment of peace overwhelmed him as if the whole world stood still for at least one second, just for him. Suddenly a harsh voice spoke from behind, "Well done slave!" it said and he let go of Lady Owen's body.

"Yes my lord, my Master."

"Where is he?"

"Who, my lord?"

"THE BOY! ISIDORE! OUR FUTURE KING WHERE IS HE!?" he beamed his eyes flashing deadly.

"I – I don't know, she must of gone to the-" he fell to the ground, moaning as the sword was pulled out between his ribs.

"We must find him, Sound the horn!" said the Master and the ghouls raise the alarm and buzzed raucously.