''Some women fear the fire, some women simply become it.''
Evellíne embarks on a journey with her parents to England, as a request of Queen Judith and her son, King Alfred. They barely met and the connection between them is so strong that in a blin...
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A strong light coming through the window awoke Evelline from her sleep.
Though she was certain there were no windows in the disgusting cubicle in which Ivar had locked her, the heat of the sun beneath her skin made her realize that she wasn't raving.
Perhaps someone had moved her, but everything seemed too familiar and nothing like her old dungeon, from the smell to the size of the room. ''Alfred saved me!'' Was her first thought. She tried to call for him, but her voice failed.
With difficulty, she walked to the door, which to her surprise was unlocked.
In slight steps, she sneaked into the long corridor in silence, 'cause if one of Ivar's soldiers caught her trying to get away, she would certainly be killed or worst.
Suddenly, in the distance, she saw an odd figure standing still like a statue. The fright had paralyzed her, but something about him had caught her eye. By his height, the mysterious man did not appear to be one of the Northmen. As she approached him cautiously, she felt the fear draining from her entire body as if an angel cherished her soul.
And then she remembered the last time she felt the same way.
Athelstan.
On the day she met Alfred for the first time, the priest's spirit served her as a guide. And by all means, he had returned.
"Athelstan..." The girl's voice was so low that it sounded like whispers. "I ... My name is Evellíne. Evellíne Elsewith. I am the wife of your beloved son, Alfred. Please ... Are you listening to me?'' pleaded ''please?...''
The man remained motionless.
She moved even closer staying inches away from the strange apparition. Slowly, she brought her right hand to his shoulder, touching it gently. Sensing the girl's touch, the figure finally turned out to be who Evelline had suspected from the start.
Horror filled the girl's eyes as she came face to face with Alfred's father.
The front of Athelstan's robes was drenched in blood, the cross around his neck filled with thorns, and he carried with him a huge wound already healed on the head. But the expression on the man's face was serene. Without saying a word, he held both hands close to the princess, placing in her hands a bloody object.
A chess piece.
"What ... what does that mean?! What do you want to tell me?'' she said in a harsh tone.
Suddenly, a whining sound of what appeared to be a newborn child interrupted the moment. The sound was so loud and so unbearable that Evellíne had to cover her ears to concentrate.
''What is going on?'' she shouted, "what are you doing? Why are you doing this?''
The sobbing stopped, allowing the girl to recompose.
