The King's expression was steely and cold as he grabbed the handle and slid the sword out of the captain, who gave one last strangled gasp and collapsed dead to the floor. He flicked his hand and two men promptly carried the corpse away. Then, as if nothing had happened, the King sauntered back to his throne and addressed the other people standing in the room, who reluctantly met his gaze with their own.
"Bring me the prophecy," his words were sharp and staccato, and he made no effort to disguise his threatening tone. "and don't come back empty handed this time."
***
"She's so frail, we can't tell for sure if she's alive."
"Maybe there's been a mistake, there's no way the chosen one could be a girl!"
"Shut up you dimwit! Anything a man can do, a woman can do twice as well."
"Mama, mama, what's happening-"
"She's so quiet there must be something wrong with her. I say we give up-"
It was no secret that the townspeople were getting impatient. They had waited for what seemed like hours and the baby had made no conscious effort to assure them that it was still alive. Even those who were normally brimming with hope wore sunken looks on their faces, their eyes reflecting grief and desperation. Angry murmurs echoed throughout the room, many claimed that the prophecy has been a hoax and that freedom was the most unrealistic of all beliefs. Though it was clear that those harsh words had only been uttered because they too, had felt the crippling sense of vulnerability and were only too afraid to show it.
Just as the sun sunk down into the boundless depths of the horizon, a man burst through the doors, wearing a look of excitement which immediately vanished when he sensed the tension in the room. For a split second, he almost look at lost. But as quickly as it came, it had disappeared and his formal demeanour took over in its place. And although he tried his best to put on a mask of detachment, it still didn't stop his shoulders from sagging as he pushed through the crowds of people and made his way towards the crib.
The first thing he noticed was how small it was.
It was almost half the size of the pillow it lay on. The odds of the baby surviving were incredibly slim. Standing next to it made him feel like he might crush it with his size. Hesitantly he placed his tremoring hand across its chest and quickly retreated when he could only feel extremely shallow rise and fall of its chest. There was a very slim chance it would still be a live. The baby was a good as dead. Upon seeing this, the village people hung their heads and looked solemnly towards the ground. Years of planning and hope had come crashing down within a matter of moments. Never before had anyone in the room felt such anguish, twisted through them like thorns and left only carcass of their dreams.
"Everyone," the man stepped away from the crib and addressed his people, "tonight is nothing but a minor set back, I will hold a village meeting in the town square within the next few days, but until then, I urge everyone to get some rest. We cannot address the situation if we are all weary." He words were greeted with silence and despondent looks. Many mumbled incoherent words, while others looked too shock to react. It was one thing to anticipate misfortune, but another to have someone confirm it. "Please," the man urged, "we will think of a way, just not in this moment."
"Then what do you expect us to do?" From the back of the room, a raspy voice of an old man echoed through the hall. "Do you expect us to stand down? We are sitting ducks waiting to be shot! We cannot wait any longer, I will not die in the hands of the Royals. You're our leader, yet you have not done anything to help our situation. No more planning, I say we start a war."
Heads shot up at the mention of the word 'war' and looks of desperation and insanity clouded the villagers eyes. Maybe the old man right, the baby was as good as dead and they had endured injustice for too long. Maybe it was time to make a move. Maybe it was time to fight. In unison, the villagers turned their heads, looked at the man standing near the crib and spontaneously inched closer to him.
"War. War. War." They chanted, their voices growing more violent with every word and their eyes so wide, they looked ready to burst out of their sockets.
"War is outrageous!" Their leader cried, trying to back away from all the people closing in around him. "Do you really think we can beat them? Do you know how much money they have? How many weapons they own? Let's not spill pointless blood." But the villagers paid no attention to his words.
"WAR. WAR. WAR!" By now, the villagers had cornered the man against a wall, forming a barrier around him and the crib. Their common sense was long gone and all that remained was dejection and madness. The man saw no way that he would be able to reason with them in their current state. He was ready to cave into their thirst for blood, but the sudden sound of mirthful giggles caught him off guard.
It had come from the crib.
Nobody moved for a moment. And then they did, all at once. The villagers snapped out of their trance and almost climbed over each other to get a closer look at the child, who cooed in fascination and reached up its hands to grab their faces, which carried looks of disbelief. Within a few short seconds, there was a collective burst of hoots and cheers. Tears of relief dripped onto the floor as people hugged and danced to phantom music. Their once shattered dreams now looked like they could be reality, and never have they ever felt so empowered. Even the old man had forgotten about his recent outburst and started dancing.
"She's alive!
"We're saved!"
"It's a miracle!"
While the villagers were wiping their eyes on their sleeves, their Chief couldn't help but gawk at the tiny baby. It had most started a war of bloodshed and violence, but simultaneously provided the people with flames to ignite their souls with courage and hope. But most of all, he couldn't stop staring at the baby's eyes. They were golden like the sun, unwavering as they stared into his own. Never in his life had he seen eyes so captivating and filled with life.
And they way they sparkled made him think of a night full of stars.
HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE START OF AN ADVENTURE!! I will try not to write on every page because I know how annoying it is and there are only 10% of you that will ACTUALLY read this. Thank you so much for letting express my imagination and I will definitely finish this story because it's my baby. BYYYEEE <33
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Revolution
Fantasy*A promised leader. A book of tales. A love to unravel all.* Althea Trodaire was born into a world of chaos. She lives her life under a strict hierarchy that oppresses the poor and profits the wealthy. On the top of the social ladder are the Royals...
