A Kingdom of Bloodshed

*¬*Chapter Nine*¬*

Chaos. It's everywhere. The sounds of screams and pleas for mercy surround me. I'm not in the same cellar as the other two dreams. This time the scene is different. Open battle fields spread far before me, soldiers marching row by row; endless. Their dark uniforms a symbol of the court they represent. I'm standing by a large white tent with a black panther with horns emblazed upon the flap. I've seen that creature before.

Turning away from the tent I see the field before me, it's coated with blood, dead bodies. Mud and cannon dust cover the ground. Blasts of magic rip through the air, scenting it with electricity and static.

What the hell is happening? Where am I?

Two soldiers approach the tent, entering the open flaps, oblivious to me standing next to it. Deciding the tent is the lesser of two evils, I slip inside it, following the soldiers. Inside there's a full cot, with blankets and pillows, a small desk filled with papers and books. A carpet to cover the ground and a full sized tub in the far corner. This must be the High Lord's tent, its too lavish to be anyone else's.

At the center of the room, is Myra. Her wrists are freed of the chains, the skin chafted and scarring. She's standing with her back to her but there, dangling from her finger tips is the blood crown I saw carved into her skin. The two soldiers approach her, telling her to drop the crown and turn to face them.

Myra ignores them.

The two soldiers move toward her, each of them diving at a different angle but she dodges both of them. Myra rolls over her shoulder, landing smoothly on her feet and rises, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes flashing with power.

"Tell your high lord that I have dealt with worse than him and that if he ever wants to see this crown again, he'll have to take it from my dead body." Then she dashes out the door and flees into the early morning of dawn.

Following her, I try to keep up, the sounds of battle far behind us. Myra keeps running, she doesn't stop for a long time until she comes across an old building of sorts. Like a catacomb tomb, the entrance is above ground but there's more hiding beneath.

She glances over her shoulder to make sure no one was behind her, then slides open the heavy stone door and slips down into the darkness.

I trail after her. Smeeling the pungent smell of mildew and rot. There's many paths down here, but I follow her fading steps, trying to keep up and not get lost. Ahead Myra pauses, places her hand upon a stone door and begins to murmur something in a language I don't recognize.

"Qui cum sanguine bellatoris et lucis in animabus suis huc intrabunt." After she's done saying the words, the door groans open allowing her access.

What did she just say? What language was that?

Myra enters the room, I rush forward to see inside. It's a small room, only one door to get in and out. The walls are filled from floor to ceiling with empty spaces for urns or treasures to sit for eternity. Myra takes the crown and I watch as magic pools from her hands, flashes of light and sunshine sparkling in her palms as she whispers new words that I again, don't recognize, " Sit modo illi cum sanguine bellatoris et lucis in anima sua inveniet te."

I watch as the crown shifts and changes, turning into something different until in her hands is an urn. Soft, smooth rose gold metal that cools in her hands. No trace of that crown anywherem at least to the untrained eye.

For there, invisible to anyone but me is the blood rose with a pearl center lightly engraved on the urn. Myra places it into an empty spot and I watch as the colour fades, turning into an older, more rusted version of the beauty I just witnessed and that rose fades from view completely.