Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Fifteen

Lukas beckoned the stagnant air to flush against his boiling face, to release the heat trapped in his skin. Hours he spent stationed in this impenetrable fortress. Hours spent without the fresh splash of water or the tantalizing fulfilment of rich bread slathered with the finest butter. Hours spent glaring at the damned witch with that common sullen expression of his.

Evanora shot her vibrant eyes to the prison, pondered it and headed towards it. Lukas tensed with almost child-like anticipation. A hope for freedom. She prodded at the vines, scowling at his slight impatient bouncing. Evanora tugged at the prison with one swift motion, obliterating the very structure into a rubble of mess.

Lukas hummed, pleased to stretch his limbs as far as he could. He bolted, bracing the open forest only for an aggressive force to stifle him. The twinge in his muscle caused a pitiful wince as he helplessly stiffened. Evanora chuckled in cruel delight as she circled him.

"Don't want you running away now, do we?" She smiled sweetly as she wrapped that wretched vine around his wrists and then to her own.

Her hands flicked symbols, a flash of red and Lukas slackened finally released from the invisible grasp. That arrogant grin faded into her fearsome gaze. Her eyebrows furrowed, creating a sharper shape in her eyes. Lips pursed disguising the lethal canines within.

Lukas stumbled as the vine yanked forward, the harsh witch pulling him along like an obedient pet. He felt so hopeless falling easy prey to a bloodthirsty witch. He couldn't fight back despite the numerous training sessions he had with Yevvi. Always in need of protection. He glowered, despising his own body and abilities. He missed Yevvi. He needed Yevvi.

Shrouded by a thick swathe of mist—courtesy of the drizzling summer rain earlier on—Sora's opening archways barely peaked. He struggled whether to sigh in relief or tense up. Sora had become a faded memory of sorts, a stranger. The home he worshipped and loved dearly, in spite of its run down economy and poorly cared for residents, became nothing but another kingdom northeast of Raycos.

He had faced a life changing prophecy that indicated his name in a throne loathed by all of Raycos and Untaf. He recited the scripture yet again, wondering its point. Lukas was supposedly the half-bred son of Daris and Naedeen who would prove to be a fine warrior and king. There was something else. A section left uncompleted. Had the war stifled its completion? Lukas thought Yevvi was fazed by his reluctance that even he did not notice the unfinished section. Perhaps it did not matter.

Evanora heaved the vine, irritated by his sudden lethargic pace. Lukas grumbled, jerking the vine in retort. She paused, took a deep breath and resumed walking. He grinned menacingly. Another tug. Another pause. Another breath. Her rage was so thick it suffocated Lukas. But he tugged a final time.

Evanora whirled around, that gloriously long hair spinning along with her movement. The strands dispersed and for a moment her hair defied gravity. His momentary gaze on her transcendent beauty ended as the witch grabbed his collar and pulled him close to her face.

"If you keep heaving this vine, I will snap your feeble little neck and leave you here to rot." Those canines peered from her mouth, the razor sharpness glinting. He gulped, immensely intimated yet transfixed. Perhaps his hormones went rapid with the presence of a beautiful woman or perhaps he were not used to such immortal grace.

He marvelled at the sheer complexation of her bruised face. A large splotch of purple and red covering her cheek as well as a long strike atop her forehead. She seemed battered. When had she been like that? His mind flashed, faintly remembering the battle between Yevvi and her. Shock had suppressed all bodily functions. Evanora kept her grip, waiting for an answer of compliance.