I took the stairs slowly, ash flying around me in thick, white puffs. The great doors sat slumped in their hinges, the left one near to collapsing on the once elegant, blood-red marble floors. I stepped through them, feeling dwarfed by their size, and into a once marvelous hall, used by guests, servants, and the inhabitants of the palace alike to greet one another.
The evidence of fire could barely be seen, covered by the ashes of wood and person alike. I went left and followed the hallway down, tracing the walls lovingly, remembering the home of the one I loved. Remembering that, for a short while, it had been my home as well as his, as terrifying as the circumstances had made it. Above me, clouds gathered, preparing once again for one of the common summer storms. Soon, the ash would be washed away by the warm rains of summer, and the rebuilding would begin.
I ducked into rooms here and there, tracing lines in furniture, or shedding tears for the skeletons of the servants that had waited on me during my brief stay here. I eventually stumbled across my old quarters, once light and airy in the summer warmth, now empty and covered in ash. I walked across the room to the remnants of my dresser, tearing through it until I found the small locket my love had given me on the Summer Solstice. I traced the metal with my thumb, then tucked it into a pocket, and left the room, not able to bear the sight of such an intimate place in such ruins.
I followed the hall until it branched two separate ways, and turned right, heading for the throne room. Above the melted stone of the Dragon Tower, thunder rumbled, followed soon by a brilliant crack of lightning. I hurried down the corridor and stopped at a set of great, gilded doors, the designs of burning, screaming faeries still visible through the half-melted mess.
With a great shove, the doors swung open on weakened hinges, revealing the ruins of one of the most exquisite rooms in the whole palace. The tall, arched ceilings had melted and shattered in the fires, and now sat open to the elements. The carpets and paintings and tapestries had burned away, leaving behind the scorched marble floors, still glinting blood-red through the dark layer of soot and ash.
The gold throne, flames once licking up the swirling back, was no longer lit, and sat cold and alone in the room. The metal looked pale in the clouded light, and a fine layer of ash had settled over it. I touched one of the armrests, the scorched surface now cool. Another rumble of thunder above me brought my attention to the skies above, and I jumped when a small raindrop hit right beneath my left eye. Another one dropped on my shoulder, and another on my head, and then it was sheets of warm rain beating down on the earth.
The ash dampened and slid from the throne, the gold shining through with a little more clarity. The ash everywhere, in fact, grew dark and slid down the hallways and into small cracks in the walls, the fires damage becoming clearer and clearer as the ash washed away. I traced the cool, now wet metal once more, then started back out of the palace, taking a few last glimpses at the ruined structure.
Once back outside, I called for my wyvern, Maven, and watched as the golden beast made a slow, lazy decent. He landed with a solid thump, claws sloshing in the wet ash, rain already dripping down his armor-like scales. A single molten eye winked at me, the inner lid closing and opening just moments before the outer. I hoisted myself onto his back, settling into the groove between his shoulders, and we launched into the air with a snap of his wings.
I spared no looks behind me as we soared back towards camp, instead closing my eyes and burying my face into his warm body as a sob racked through my body, my tears quickly mixing with the rain pouring over his molten gold hide.
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I gasped awake, hand clutching the fabric of my shift. Beside me, my sister slept peacefully, her eyelids fluttering softly. 'I wonder what she dreams about.' I ran my fingers through my messy curls, my ruined, cracked nails catching on tangles. 'It felt so real, like it had happened. Hell, I was thinking while dreaming, that's how real it felt.' I felt a small chuckle run its way through my small frame, and I slid out of bed, knowing sleep was going to evade me for the rest of the wee hours of the morning.
YOU ARE READING
Prince of Fire
FantasyHe was a monster, a killer, with fire running through his veins and ice coating his heart. She was strong, a warrior, fighting to keep what remained of her family alive. He was rich, powerful, and a prince in all rights but birth. She was a peasa...