The Lost Prince

Prologue

To save the Kingdom of old,
Of magic and mysteries and tales once told.
The lost prince will come of age,
And free the Fae from their cage.
Death awaits and so much worse,
Unless the heroes lift the curse.

"It's time," said the King. He looked over to his wife, who was watching the letters arrange and rearrange themselves into gibberish.

The magic parchment formed and reformed the prophecy over and over again in shinning ink made from liquid onyx. It was mesmerizing to watch, but the words turned the Queen's heart inside out.

"It...Its is time," She replied sadly.

BANG BANG BANG

"Open up, your Majesties." The voice was condescending and sarcastic. The Queen jumped back in fear, backing up to wall of the makeshift panic room.

The King immediately stepped in front of her protectively, drawing his sword. He faced the door, then took a deep breath. He raised his arm and lifted the enchantment on the lock.

The door swung open, and in stepped the sorcerer. He gave the pair a wicked sneer, raising his staff.

The staff was made of dark, nearly black, wood, sanded smooth. The top had a intricately carved knot of the same wood.

The bulb on top was sparking with purple and green light, and was pointed directly at the King's chest.

The King raised his sword, but he knew it was futile. His only hope was that the prophecy was fufilled...

There was a blast of green and purple light, the smell of burning flesh, then the King fell. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, wisps of smoke flowing up towards the ceiling.

The Queen screamed, tears running down her face. She looked up at the Sorcerer, whose staff was smoking a bit as well. He gave her another psychotic smile, then pointed the staff once more.

One more blast of light.

All was silent.