Fallen Angel

Prologue: The Queen

 Light precipitation fell steadily on the cobblestone streets of Luminaria, a metropolis filled with beautiful stone buildings, a great castle that loomed non-threateningly in the distance, and other magnificent structures. The entire city originally had flowers adorning every house, marble fountains with fresh, glistening water, and bustling trade centers filled with merchants and towns folk enjoying a new summer's day. On this particular day, however, all of that had changed.

The flowers that were once vibrant hues of red, pink, violet, and blue were now black as the gloomy sky above. The fountain's water was starting to show traces of muck and grime from lack of cleanliness. The entire city seemed to be going in slow motion, the villagers wearing dark, dreary clothing to match the mood. Everyone was in a state of mourning. They had reason to be, though. The great king of Luminaria was dead.

A favorite king of the nation, every citizen had respected him, for he was a compassionate and gentle man. He was intelligent, and despite his young age, knew how to run a kingdom. He had an exceptional understanding of politics, and did a superb job of empathizing with the people of his kingdom. His death had horrified the entire kingdom, even the lowliest, cold-hearted person mourned.

The funeral was held at the main cathedral in the center of the city: a colossal building made entirely of gleaming white marble. The front of the building had two wooden doors lined with gold metal that swirled into beautiful designs. A rose window was set in the front that glistened with a rainbow of colors; the only colorful object for miles. The pathway to the cathedral was lined with white candles situated on iron stands, their light illuminating the path. The rain slowed to a slight drizzle, so the tiny flames on each candle did not extinguish.

A massive swarm of villagers stood in front of the cathedral, surprisingly silent. Many of them had tears streaking down their gaunt faces. A small child cried out, immediately quieted by its mother. No one spoke, weeping silently. The golden bell on top of the cathedral tolled loudly, its ringing echoing through the streets to announce the death of the king.

Inside the cathedral, lit by only an overhead chandelier with small flickering flames, stood the main procession. A blood red rug that started at the main doors and extended down to the altar covered a portion of the white stone floor. Plain stained glass windows lined the walls, a marble statue of an angel with large feathery wings sat in a corner, seeming to watch the miserable scene, and every inch of the wall was decorated with beautiful, intricate designs and tapestries.

Queen Clarissa, the king's widow, stood in front of the coffin, flanked by two sentinels and a stout priest. Her long, silky, black hair hung loose, curling ever so slightly at the ends that rested gracefully on her shoulders. Her ice blue eyes were filled with sorrow, and a single tear left her eye and streaked down her pale face.

"My sincerest condolences to you, Lady Clarissa," the priest said sympathetically. She nodded, lifting a finger to gently wipe the tear away. The king lay in the coffin, dressed in elegant clothing, and a crown resting atop his head, in his dark, russet hair. He was too young to die, at age twenty-six.

The queen gently rested her right hand his arm, leaning in and softly kissing his forehead. He was so cold, as if he had spent the night out in the snow of winter. But it also appeared as if he were simply asleep, and would wake to show her his handsome smile. He had been at a council meeting when it happened. An assassin allied with the enemy had snuck into the meeting hall, shooting a poison arrow straight through his heart, killing him instantly. Another tear escaped her eye, landing on his shirtsleeve.

"Excuse me Lady, I hate to interrupt, but it is time for burial," the priest said, like he was anxious to leave. The sentinel to her right grunted, a furious frown on his face.