Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Forty-Seven

A gush of breezy wind swept through the earth, a melodic nicker vibrating with the whistle of air. Lukas stroked his mare's deep brown mane—who of which had been named Kae—admiring the bronze shine of her magnificent coat. He beheld Maragnus in its phantom beauty, the encroaching darkness directing a perfect descending light on the Gallen Mountains at the leftmost fringes. With jagged cliffs split into three levels, two of which barren and bare, the summit decorated with towering trees that elegantly swayed. Lining the right of the measly cliff seated a spiral of engraved stairs, littered with moss and cracks.

Lukas halted Kae, throwing his leg around her and carefully sliding down. He stroked her side, receiving a pleased huff in response. Donning his deep green cloak that draped around his body like the comforting sheets of a bed, he stalked towards the cliff staircase. He had failed to mention that this day marked his eighteenth birthday, warranting a desperate longing to see his father. He couldn't possibly let his court know, not suffer the veiled anguish of awkward congratulations nor the hidden loss. All he needed was the painfully stark presence of a king that swore to protect his son, yet deprived of the opportunity.

Thundering one foot after the other atop the endless stairs, he found the world raising with him on this precipice of affliction. Overlooking the vast destruction, he heard the cries of the lost, saw them teetering in the streets. Tears erupted from his eyes and he allowed them, placing a hand on his heart and closing his eyes. He whirled around, now facing the intricate grave stone labelled 'King Daris.' A torrent of emotions burst from him as the teeming wildlife seemed to surround him. Lukas laughed, cried, whimpered and smiled for he saw his father, in regal glory and warrior's brawn, leaning against the grave.

"Eighteen," he whistled.

"Eighteen," Lukas repeated, grinning as the tears fell once again.

Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around his father, feeling as his impalpable body dispersed but soul remained. Warmth shot through him as his hands reached his waist and he curled around himself.

He immediately reached for his burnished weapons, willing its namesake to writhe with power, as a rustle sounded through the small forest atop the cliff. Lukas felt no shock as red hair swayed in curled locks, a plaited crown eddying the top of her head. Although a different person, stronger at that, he forced valour to combat the dread seeping from him.

"You just can't stay away from the places I can most definitely find you," Evanora drawled, grin as wicked as ever. "Happy birthday."

Lukas tried to keep his grip steady on his sword, quickly running his eyes over the graceful serpent depiction. He was filled with the incentive to fight and to control his power, for once. No longer the measly boy trapped in vine. Lukas clamped his mouth shut, studying the limited space and deathly plummet that could shatter bones.

"I want my damned dagger back," she hissed, drawing a dazzling iron rapier.

Firebirds flitted from the trees as Evanora twirled, thrusting her rapier towards Lukas in a swift motion. He dodged, tripping, rolling in the mud and regaining his balance. Just to delightfully irritate her, Lukas unsheathed Estof and swiped it across her shoulder, barely tearing the thick fabric of her shirt. Evanora plunged forward, wrapping an arm around his waist and slamming him to the ground. The force of her punch ached through his mind, like an earthquake of the worst degree. Struggling to release the grasp leaning against his neck and rapier digging into his side, he found his gaze weaving with hers as he unleashed dark fire upon the world.