The Bane of Everin

Chapter six

Forgetting to warn grandma about my sudden burst of speed I flew past her. She yelped as I did so but soon followed. For being old, she was pretty spry.

"Why are you running?" she huffed. It was a good question. Why was I running, it's not like one person can do much against a fire.

"Fire" I shouted, stopping the pumping of my arms to point at the city with an abundance of light flowing over its old gray walls. I wanted to turn to see the face of my grandmother, if she was surprised or sad but I feared that I would slow down if I did. I forced my stride to lengthen and my arms to pump harder. Soon the city was right in front of me. The large wooden doors of the outer wall were closed but not guarded. I dashed to the single doorway to my left. The market streets were filled with horrified people.

"Everin" a male voice yelled into the chaotic air. I stopped my running and looked around. A hand laid on my shoulder scaring the living daylights out of me. I turned to see a bigger man with a large chocolate beard reach his lower neck and a chief hat on. Worry swam in his green eyes. It was the baker.

"It's your house" he sighed and my mouth dropped. I looked past Mr.Genoath and stared into the tearing eyes of my grandmother.

"My family" I whispered as I began to turn around but the baker held my shoulder firmly.

"Everin you need to leave" he headed but I only stared at him. Why would I leave my family to deal with a burning house alone? I ignored his words and shook his hand off the red and black scale he held. Like a thread in cloth I wove through the people of Lothic with granny right behind me. Maybe I could show grandma I wasn't a blood thirsty beast, helping the people I love could change that...right? Finally making it to the stone stairs that lead to the residential area. I waved along the path as the people only lingered. Finally making it to the house of my childhood I looked down putting my hands on my knees. The smoke made it hard to breathe not counting the running. I shook off the weariness and looked up at my burning yard. My fingers began to tingle until I could no longer feel them, next my arms gave out forcing me to stand from my knees. Everything around me felt as if a wall of water stood between us. The yelling became sloshy as I tried to breathe but my body didn't seem to respond. Twinning with my arms my knees buckled under my weight as I fell on the ground. The burning farm memory came into view but it wasn't the same, nobody went out of their way to help. I looked around and noticed something similar. The guards stood and watched the flames, some had smiles and others did look like they felt emotion. I couldn't bring myself to look at what was in front of me, looking at it once was good enough but somehow I found myself gawking at the scene. It had to be fake, how could they leave me.

"Everin" shouted a disoriented voice.

"Everin get up" it spoke again. Slowly I looked to my left as my body swayed against my will. Grandma shook my shoulder but I couldn't feel it. It's like I wasn't the one in my body, like I was cursed to suffer the bloody scene and do nothing about it. The heat of the fire created droplets of sweat that dripped in my eyes. I tried to get up but my arms were without strength, they crumbled when I leaned on them. Suddenly grandma's face became pale, her mouth dropped open, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body met the heartless stone path lending to the castle. Why did she fall? I asked myself as my eyes slowly and clumsily scanned her body. An arrow blacker than the starless night sky stuck out from her left shoulder. My drifted from my grandmother to the three pikes sharpened by heartless creatures that burned along with my crumbling house. I could hear the screams of my loved ones before the now blood stained pikes impaled their torso. It didn't seem real. I then looked to where the arrow came from and it soon became too real to be fake. The drunken faze that fell over my mind and body relieving me of the sorrow that followed the trail of death was soon washed away. The glory and vigor of a king is only as good as his action on an everyday basis, but no human can be king. It's too much honor to uphold, it's too much money to leave alone. The whisper of evil is too loud to disregard. When people see a crown and a golden throne they think of having anything but being king means you have nothing. Being king is giving away all you love for the sake of thousands of people. Being king means to make hard choices when no one else can. But the grin behind the string of the bow didn't seem burdened. The king had the guts to kill my family then take my grandmother's life right in front of me. None trained me for the anger I feel now. I'm starting to think that the gleaming crown in the fire light is the only true myth.