Heir of Cinders [FADING EMBERS #1] - ON HOLD

0.1 - Within the Mist

The silence of the night was broken by the rhythmic clopping of hooves on dirt. Bright orange flames flickered from the tip of torches, illuminating the woods and casting the rippling shadows of the seven riders making their way through the darkness. Two of the horses were connected to a cart. Jonathan rode at the front of the pack, an odd sight on his pony amongst the grand horses that tailed him. He bore a torch of his own within the grasp of his little left hand, though his fire burned no less bright as the torches of the adults. Riding beside him was an elderly woman who was past five decades in her life, seated on a chestnut mare. The group proceeded at a slow walk, almost cautiously so. The boy of seven made careful sure to keep the gait of his pony in tandem with the rest of them. His right hand, clenched on the reins of his pony, had started to sweat profusely.

It had all been so sudden. Jonathan had thought the night would be a night like any others- a peaceful night of rest. However, when the clock approximately struck nine, a member of the Nightsguard came to his grandmother in a fervent fit. The child had been preparing himself for bed, yet he could not help but step outside his chambers to listen to what was going on. He heard the man garbed in dark brown stumble over his words as he tried to deliver the news to his grandmother. His words were punctured by the ragged puffs of his breath. The boy managed to catch a few words from him, though they were enough to paint a picture of what was going on.

A royal carriage from the neighboring kingdom of Halimun had been attacked by unknown assailants as they passed through his lady grandmother's grounds.

It was certainly the first time Jonathan had been allowed to participate in such a grave matter, though he tried not to show his apprehension as he rode alongside his grandmother's men. It had shocked him at first that his lady grandmother would ask him to join her as she investigated this matter instead of sending him to bed. However, shock soon turned to pride. Perhaps she had deemed him of age. Although it was probably long past his bedtime, Jonathan found his senses wide awake and his heart pounding with adrenaline.

His grandmother, however, did not seem to share his enthusiasm.

"Of all the people that could have died within our lands, it just had to be our neighbor's king," she grumbled, the wrinkles around her eyes appearing deeper than they usually were. "The gods know I am too old for this nonsense."

Jonathan could somewhat understand her upset for having her peaceful night disturbed. She was, after all, getting on in her years. He'd often heard her complain of sore muscles and aching joints. Doubtless a night of riding would take quite a toll on her body.

"I do wonder why the king of Halimun should ride into Althewyn so late in the night," Jonathan said, turning his head to his grandmother. She gave a shrug in response.

"How should I know? Perhaps he had some business with our king," she suggested. "Or maybe he wanted to meet with his sister. You know, your good friend Daud's mother- Lady Farisa."

Jonathan gave a slow nod of his head. Those options certainly seemed plausible. Although whatever the reason was for the king of Halimun's visit at such an inopportune time, it did not make the incident any less tragic. The mention of his best friend certainly stirred some thoughts within him. He wondered how Daud would react to the news of the demise of his uncle. Even though he never did seem to be close to his uncle, understandably due to the physical distance between them, it would certainly upset him.

A small chill swept over him as a nightly breeze passed. He held his torch closer to him, absorbing the warmth of the orange fire. The boy's umber gaze was diverted to his surroundings. A thick, gray miasma shrouded the woods, swirling and weaving between the roots and trunks of the trees. Although the miasma curled away from the beaten dirt path the group was on, Jonathan could not help but feel a portentous aura emanating from such a close proximity to the gaseous substance. It was constantly moving, shifting, swirling around the trees almost as if it had a will of its own. Despite himself, the hairs on Jonathan's arms, so thick that they almost resembled fur, stood on end.