The secrets of a twisted war

love is one thing, but losing is another

The beginning of the end

The sun shone brightly over the horizon, the grass sparkled, and the trees swayed melodically to the faint whistling of the submissive winds. A small framed boy, with dark hazel hair, stirred beneath a dying blossom tree, his weary diamond eyes shooting open, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. He cleared his throat and attempted to rise to his feet, to suddenly feel excruciating pain in his chest and back, falling back to the damp, mossy ground. He muttered in his thick Irish accent before dragging himself along the cushioned ground, his body aching with every muscle used. With not an ounce of strength left in his body, he lay still and drifted into a deep, everlasting sleep. Images danced around in his head, thoughts, even memories replayed themselves until a bright light struck, and he, at last, slept soundly.

"Mark, Mark! Oh god, Mark! Amy is at the castle!" Signe wept uncontrollably. The two stood outside the antique looking blueberry Inn, shaking with every movement. Mark darted to the basement, gathering Anna and her army, telling them to remain anonymous and covered. Many people screamed or even squeaked at the sight of the giant army surfacing from the small innocent looking Inn, but the majority ran as fast as their poor legs could endure. The large group began galloping toward the palace, unauthorized war cries erupting from within the pack, and often screams of terror, or possibly bravery submerging from the booming noises of stampeding feet.

After just minutes of running, and frankly terrifying the locals, the multitude of cloaked warriors finally reached the familiar metal gates of Tirachia. "Stay here with Signe, charge as soon as you hear any signs of danger: screams, shouts, anything, understood!?" Mark asked the pack as they nodded. "Signe, I know you are worried about Jack, I know where he is, but momentarily, we have major issues to address," Mark whispered before sprinting toward the palace. To his horror, he saw Amy, with Felix in a headlock, twirling like a torpedo, plummeting toward the concrete ground, face first. "AMY!" he bellowed in an attempt to grab her attention, but unfortunately failed. Moments before she met her tragic fate, time seemed to stop. Mark, who could still move, darted toward Amy, his arms ready for impact, as time resumed, and he caught a beaten Amy in his arms, letting the crude Felix smash into the ground, leaving him at least a foot deep in the concrete. Mark allowed his romance ego to take over, as he began healing Amy's major wounds: broken neck, cracked shin, bruised skull, and many more which were in the minority. With just a touch from his hand, her bleeding lip slowly began to take the blood in, as if it were reversing. After healing what was necessary, he exited his trance and returned to his normal state, grabbing Amy's hand and hurtling toward the palace.

The King lay broken on the tile floor, clutching at his fractured leg in distress, whimpering as Mark knelt down and pressed his hand against the King's neck, feeling the blood in his artery slowly stopping. Without a doubt, the King would shortly be dead, to Mark and Amy's fortune. However the cowardly Queen, with a swollen, throbbing black eye, still sat upright, in her stolen throne. Amy, who had now learned the Queen's 'sweet spot', punched her square in the jaw, her unconscious body slipping from the chair and to the floor. The throne room floor was cascaded with blood, and filled with relief, until a man dressed in all black, approached the heavily breathing Amy. "Who are you?" Amy sobbed out of breath. The figure's face was covered with a plain black mask, as his body was more or less the same. He pulled down his hood to reveal a tanned, curly-haired man, with a small stubble beard across his jawline, "It is I, King Tyler Schied, the almighty and great!" He informed, almost singing his own praises. "My mother told me a story of a hooded figure before, her descriptions, ... they, almost match your... disguise," Amy muttered curiously. "I faked my assassination to travel and meet Dee, and explain Thomas' egos, but when I left, Pamela, who had promised to keep my 'death' private, betrayed me and gave away the throne," King Tyler explained, "But that is not the point of this my child, the answers lie, beneath the blossom tree, whether for good or for bad," He smiled, the sorrow showing, despite how much he tried to conceal it. "Come on Amy, I'm afraid I already know the answer," sobbed Mark as he avoided eye contact with Amy, he knew the news would hurt her, but it would especially hurt Signe.