TKATP: A Coronation of Blood

Chapter VII: Benedict

This a long chapter! Some 2,200 words, so read it when you have the time. Enjoy!

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Something was calling him.

It was faint, a whisper in the wind. It seemed to dance around him, slowly pulling him away... away...

Towards the throne hall Benedict went, following the whispers, straining his ears to listen. What were they saying? The hallway was lit by the dim candlelight, just bright enough so that the guardsmen on duty could make their way through the palace. Where were they now?

Torn. Splintered. Shattered. Broken. They whispered. Who were they? What did they want from him?

A nation in ruins.

They were getting further away. Benedict began to panic. He couldn't let them escape! He needed to know who they were. What they were saying. He had to. He began to pick up his pace, trotting, then jogging, then he broke into a sprint, scampering through the halls.

Where were the guards?

A realm ailing.

He threw open the Grand Hall and laid his eyes upon the Serpent Throne, surrounded by the empty hall that only hours before had been filled with laughter, eating, and drinking. The emptiness weighed down on him, resting upon his very soul. He could feel the emptiness, if that made any sense. How could one feel emptiness? And yet he did... it was so heavy.

But there it stood, in all its glory. Defiant of the darkness. The Serpent Throne was a piece of art. The back posts of the throne each held a winding snake made to seem as if it was slithering up to the top. A pair of silver wyverns served as both arms and legs of the throne. The throne itself was made of silver and gold with sapphire, aquamarine, and jade sprinkled in. It was beautiful but... but...

It was cracked.

An imperfection in its flawless delicacy.

A kingdom torn asunder.

And suddenly, the whispers vanished. Gone, in an instant. The sheer silence was unnerving as Benedict stood in the Hall of the Serpent Sovereigns, waiting for... something?

What was going on?

Tenderly, Benedict walked towards the Serpent Throne. Even though it was raining dahlias, none landed on the Serpent Throne. He placed his hands on the cracks, feeling them. They felt so much larger than what it looked. They felt like great, gaping chasms. Chasms that were ripping the very symbol of the kingdom apart.

A light breeze. The wind began to pick up. But there were no windows...

The realm crumbles.

"No!" Benedict cried.

The throne crumbled.

Gemstones flew from their places and shattered on the floor. The gold and silver crumpled and tore itself to pieces. The wyvern armrests melted in seconds to some phantom heat.

And just like that it was done. All fell still and the Serpent Throne was no more. Benedict fell to his knees before the ruins.

"No," he whispered, "this cannot be." This throne, it was more than just a chair. It was a kingdom. His kingdom.

"He's moving!"

Benedict felt groggy, but he managed to force his eyes open. He was still kneeling, but he was surrounded by what seemed like a dozen people. Was that his mother? A priest? Charlotte? Fyrncisco?