Extreme Heights (discontinued/read authors note)

Prologue

Screams filled the air, their high pitched voices rushing to my ears like the Reaper coming to retrieve a lost soul. It was deafening, terrifying, traumatizing. I could hear the desperate cries of others that crowded the streets. I could feel hands trying to pull me away, grabbing and clawing at my soft skin. I wouldn't budge. My feet froze in place as I stared at the burning flames that pierced through the windows.

That's it. There is the voice that I would learn to resent, to hate with such malice. His rough, gravelly voice shook the plaza. The high-pitched screeching of his giant eagles loomed overhead, like vultures ready to feast. This felt like something that would only happen to the worst criminals, to the worst villains. My thoughts were cut off as his voice roared over the flames.

"Did you really expect me not to notice?! Bah! You peasants are all ignorant buffoons who do not follow simple rules..." His voice trailed off, once again blending into the crackle of flames. I edged forward, despite the astonished and desperate yell from behind me.

I could feel the heat on my face now, the bright green flames licking at the youthful skin. It burned. It was unlike any other pain I had felt before, but I pushed forward. My tiny fingers scrambled against the splintering wood with my eyes peering over the edge into the small wood cabin that I called home.

There he was, in all of his glory, King Galterius. At that time, however, I could not decipher who this man was. All I knew was that he was a giant man who could spew forth emerald flames that burned brighter than the hottest star. His voice could be heard again, muffled by a mask that protected his face from his own flames. I couldn't make out any features, he was just a suit of armor, a walking suit of armor.

"...You mongrels disgust me. To think that I, the King, had put so much hope and prayer into believing that my people, which would obviously be you two, would follow my rules. That underground market? You believe that I wouldn't find out?" The King bent down, using his index finger to lift the chin of a young woman. Light brown hair adorned her head, swirling down to its tip. A black streak formed itself on the right side of her bangs and ran down the strand to the end, where it faded to a soft gray. Blood streaked down from a shallow gash on her forehead.

Despite the visible pain and suffering the woman was going through, she held a grin. Bloodied teeth and lips were visible to the King, but she still smiled in the midst of flames. Hazel eyes stared with determination straight at the King as a mischievous smirk replaced her grin. Three words tumbled from her mouth, along with a line of blood.

"Fuck your rules, sire."

"Why you witch!"

The King brought up his hand, a ball of flames erupted from his knuckles and wrapped around his fist. I looked towards the top of his head, where a crown stood on top of his broad skull. A green orb was embedded in the golden accessory, pulsing eerily.

My attention snapped back to the scene as a deep roar erupted like a sonic boom. My eyes widened as an unsteady figure stood in front of the woman. He held up his right hand with a bracelet of silver glowing a soft baby blue. The figure was soon fully visible as the smoke from the flames settled high above them.

"Don't you fucking touch her." The man's voice trembled with great effort. My eyes traveled lower to his legs. His pants were ripped in multiple places, deep gashes visible through them. Blood soaked through the heavy fabric as his knees shook. My eyes traveled back up to his face where ice blue eyes sat behind a tired, long face. Black hair, that began to grow white with age, stuck to his sweat-soaked face as he stood defensively in front of his wife.

"You're still able to move? That is quite shocking due to the hits you were tallying up earlier. No matter, I can easily dispose of you-" Another sonic boom cut through the King's sentence. I looked toward the man's arm, where strong winds circled around his palm. His left arm held his right arm steady as he moved his foot back to lower himself into a fighting position.