Legend of the Stones 1: Rise of the Hybrid

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"Well, Kerwin?" King Demecrius asked, turning to face the fire blazing in the hearth.

The King and his Loyal were standing in a large room. The floor and the walls were made entirely of heavy wood. The smell of the smoke, as the log in the fireplace shifted and blazed up again, filled the room. Most of the wooden floor was covered by a huge carpet woven with ornamental depictions of ancient creatures forgotten by time. King Demecrius was dressed with a lavish elegance that lent his wide, fleshy body an air of refinement. The old Loyal – his back bent and dressed in simple attire – looked shriveled and insignificant next to the king.

"The rumors are true," Kerwin replied. He clasped his hands behind his back and awaited his master's reply. A spark ignited in Demecrius' eyes and his cheeks flushed. He took another step towards the fireplace.

"Well, well, well... who would have believed that Briley Berenton would actually keep his word for a change," said the King, momentarily lost in thought. "Things will have to be done differently from now on. First, we'll need to get rid of that loathsome Queen."

"Sir?" it was almost a squeak from Kerwin's mouth.

"I have suffered her presence for far too long, Kerwin. You know that better than anyone. Especially now that we've discovered she's..." He turned and levelled his gaze at his Loyal, carefully studying him. "You know exactly what I'm referring to, don't you?"

Kerwin's eyes darted restlessly until they finally lowered to stare at the wooden floor. A tiny spider emerged from one of the cracks in the wood and quickly strutted towards Demecrius. When the spider had almost reached the King, he raised one heavy foot and crushed it with the pointed tip of his shoe. "I can't imagine you bringing yourself to lie to me, old Kerwin, eh? Tell me, has this rumor reached the Loyals' ears as well?"

Kerwin nodded slowly.

"You don't mean to tell me that..." Demecrius whispered.

The shadows cast by the flames flickered on the King's face as a cruel smile curled his lips.

"Y...yes my liege," the Loyal finally answered.

"What is it that you're so afraid of, Kerwin? Her? Or that which I am about to task you with?"

Kerwin shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, she is the Queen, after all... She..."

"Has completed the role she had to play by my side," Demecrius finished Kerwin's sentence for him. "And I expect her role in this world to also be finished in the next few days."

The Loyal nodded obediently, but still did not turn to leave the room. "And what about... what Briley Berenton has done, Sire?"

Demecrius bent down and picked up two glowing embers from the fireplace. Kerwin looked at him, terror in his eyes. The King toyed with the embers as if they were dice. He passed them between his fingers and stared at them, enthralled.

"Not that it is any of your business, Kerwin, my good old Loyal," the King said eventually. "But we cannot foresee what demons that detestable Briley Berenton has released upon the Earth, which is why we must be happy that passion and cruelty were meant to burn together. Now go."

The Loyal nearly stumbled as he fumbled for the door handle. He closed the door behind him as gently as his trembling hands allowed him to, then he started running down the palace corridors. Wheezing as he ran, he pressed his hand to his chest, as if hoping to improve his breathing. Kerwin crossed the bridge between the two towers and reached the old door covered with peeling, green paint. He rapped twice with his fist and waited. The door opened a crack, and the Queen's green eyes peered at him from beyond the threshold.

"Kerwin." she pronounced his name softly as she opened the door wide. "Come in, please."

Her room was washed in sunlight, and the beams lit the Queen like a halo. The Loyal fell to his knees and he gripped the hem of her dress.

"Kerwin!" she protested, but he stayed on his knees, refusing to budge.

"Your Majesty," he said in a tremulous voice. Much to his surprise, the Queen dropped to her knees as well. She raised his chin with her slender, white fingers. Faced with her delicacy and soft touch, he suddenly felt ashamed of his coarse, thinning beard. So ashamed, that he dared not lift his eyes to hers.

"Look at me, Kerwin," she said, and he, unable to resist her, obeyed, and he saw that she was actually smiling at him. "My time has come," she said simply.

His eyes widened in amazement. She, on the other hand, seemed calm and tranquil, so much so that Kerwin felt a sudden urge to shake her awake.

"You did well to come to me," she added and rose to her feet. "I need your help."

He stood up as quickly as his age allowed and awaited instructions.

"I need you to accompany me, Kerwin. We must go down to the market."