Four Rings

Prologue

Stepping lightly as to not disturb his thoughts, the man walked up slick marble steps. Today was his day, nobody else's. Excitement rushed through him like an exploding volcano. What was about to happen was unreal, was crazy, was... He was interrupted as he tripped over a step and nearly ate marble. He managed to catch himself by grabbing the little ledges jutting out of the walls on either side like railings. He regained his balance, stood up straight and dignified, and brushed off his burgundy velvet vest. He began walking again. Red light illuminated his face in an eerie way making him look dark and mysterious. His fiery hazel eyes gleamed like coal set ablaze and his dark black hair looked like ash. He was shaking with anticipation now. And little beads of sweat fell as he shook. It was hot. The red little light globes were very warm. They had heat. He nearly squealed at that word, getting so excited he could have flipped up those stairs. Heat, what a glorious thing created. Heat meant hot food; it meant warm winter nights by the fireplace, it also meant fire. Rathad rolled his eyes in pure delight. Fire was his favorite thing in the whole world. It was the best and most beautiful thing ever. The way it danced and glowed was amazing, the way it smelled was great, the way it ate up everything in it's path was magnificent. And now it was going to be all his...

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The young women skipped up marble steps on the far side of the building, happy at what was to come. She hummed a little tune and twirled around a couple times. She didn't know that in the same building there was someone else walking up marble steps and equally as happy. She didn't even know that there was another side of the building. Being so happy she continued to dance up the smooth marble stairs. She was excited because she loved to sing. And overjoyed because she was going to get something better than singing. Something even more phenomenal than the voice she already had.

As she hopped effortlessly up each step it made music. Each step sounded like a key being played on a piano. And each step she took added to the one before it, creating a beautiful melody. She danced to each sound and hummed each tune. She was a very happy girl. She was only fifteen years of age and very pretty at that. She had long blonde curly hair that bounced every time she moved. And very blue eyes like the afternoon sky. Her eyelashes were long and as black as soot. Every time someone looked at her they immediately wanted to do anything for her. And whenever they heard her sing they felt the need to shower her in undivided attention and affection. Her voice was as clear as a diamond bell, and as vibrant as a ruby. With her rosy cheeks and fair complexion, she was considered perfect. Her bright toothy smile lit up night like a bright star; she smiled like a mad woman and laughed like one too. She was happy. Very, very, very happy. She was going to sing. Because Belynna loved singing. She was going to sing like she has never sung before...

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Another man slowly and somberly walked up some marble steps He was on the east side of the building and didn't know he was walking across, on the other side of the wall, from a happy young girl named Belynna. Shroden was the exact opposite of Belynna. He was old, he was a man, and he wasn't happy. Not in the least. He was a tall lanky old man with a bad hunch and a permanent frown. His short white hair was greasy and clumpy. If anyone were to have unfortunately glanced in his direction, they would have thought it was a zombie and screamed. Possibly even have run away in fear. And his unhealthy pale complexion didn't help his appearance.

He slowly shuffled up each step depressingly. And sighed every few seconds. The scuffing noise his feet made echoed up the stairs and sounded like a ghost whispering. His wife had passed three years before and ever since then he had been depressed, always hiding in the shadows and never uttering a single syllable or answering the door. Some people assumed he was dead. And others just didn't care if he was or not. He wasn't liked by anyone really. He was a grump and a grouch and the only one that ever really understood him and loved him for who he was was his wife. And since she died he had marched into a closet overflowing with depression and locked himself up to mourn.