Fifteen

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He lounged in his throne, his eyes open and unseeing. His Mistress was there. He could feel her cold presence next to him.

"They are approaching rapidly." The voice came from the darkness below him. He couldn't tell what the man looked like, but he knew that he could throw a knife with such accuracy that he could pierce the man's left eye just using the direction of his voice. "We expect them to reach the Gate early tomorrow morning. Do you wish for us to meet them before they attempt to enter?"

His Mistress sighed. "Oh, how bothersome. I wonder what they want." She moved to the other side of his throne, her dress swishing softly against the stone floor. "How many men do we have right now?"

"How many men do we have?" he repeated. His voice echoed off of the stone walls, his deep, rich tone reverberating through the cavernous throne room. He smiled. It made him sound powerful.

The man's voice was high with fear. "We have six hundred inside the castle, and another two thousand on call."

When his Mistress spoke, he could hear the smile on her lips. "How many children are there?"

"How many approach us?"

"I... I can only detect twenty seven. But they are heading directly to the Gate," he added in a rush. "How could they possibly know the location of the entrance? And why would they come straight to us, without even attempting to disguise their approach? There must be more to this."

"Mmm. I don't know," his Mistress purred. "This might prove to be entertaining. What do you think, my Prince? Should we kill them at the door, or allow them to come inside for a visit?"

He turned towards the sound of her voice as a smile crept across his face. "I must say, I am quite curious. It would be much more fun to let them in. If they can even figure out how to access the Gate."

The man sucked in a terrified breath. "Your Highness," he began in a wheedling tone. 

He cut the man off. "Do not argue with me" he said, his voice carrying the sharp edge of a threat. His subjects all knew that argument would not be tolerated. "You will regret such a decision. I have made my choice. Take thirty men and wait inside the Gate. They are all young; it should be a slaughter. Take the gifted ones into captivity and kill the rest." 

"Yes, Your Highness." He could hear the rustle of the man's cloak as he bowed, and the soft shuffle of his feet against the stone as he left the room. 

When he had gone, his Mistress spoke. "I'm so proud of you, my Prince." Her voice was soft and spidery in the darkness. "You are becoming a leader to be feared. A leader to be obeyed." It grew softer and softer as her presence faded away, until it was barely a whisper. "You will be remembered."

When she had gone, he stood up and started towards his rooms. He didn't want to be remembered. He wanted to remember. There was something he didn't understand, something important that should change his life. But he couldn't recall what it was, no matter how hard he tried. 

He could only call two things from his past: a light, tinkling laugh and a single word. 

Rennyn.

He knew that the word was the key, the answer to what was beyond the fog of his mind. He just didn't know what it meant. 

He sighed and sank down on his bed, the word bouncing through his mind. It was important that he remember it, that he figure out what to do with it. But every time he felt the answer nearly close enough to grasp, it would slip back into the dark fog, hiding from him again.

Staring into the darkness, the darkness that shrouded both his eyes and his heart, he spoke. The word rolled from his tongue easily and fluently, like he had heard and repeated it many times in some other life.

Dark Prince RisingOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora