Palace Of Flames (Book One of the Damnata Series)

Prologue: In Flames

Damnatalia, 1568

[Laurence]

A candle to the ground, the flames crawling along the absinthe poured onto the marble flooring. The flames slithering, creeping towards the first piece of flesh they can find. I hear the cry for help, but simply turn away; he can deal with this by himself. He is a king, after all, yes?

"Laurence, my son, please...!"

I clasp my hands behind my back, smiling slightly with my eyes closed.

"Do you remember the poem that hung on the wall of the nursery during my infant years? I believe it is about to fulfill its true significance, and become even more influential and relevant than ever before. I am not sorry for killing you, Father, you must believe. Goodbye." I ignore the sudden, sickening urge to turn and watch him writhe in agony, and move forward instead.

I leave the room in a flurry of elegance, triumph and, most importantly of all, freedom: no longer will I be forced to endure the cruelties of my father, the King of the New World.

I slide my sword back into its scabbard, and then hear a slight gasp coming from my right. I look around towards the source of the noise quickly, defensively, and then see it is but a young, auburn-haired woman.

"Alexandria-"

"You monster. You have killed the King. You have sacrificed your own father for your own selfish gain-"

"It was not for my own gain, my lady, but for the sake of this country. He was forming a new leadership over this country, by which they name themselves the Damnata. I cannot allow this country to fall into flames again, for the sake of my father's mild amusement." And yet I have single-handedly allowed this palace to fall into flames, instead. Well, sacrifices must be made.

She pauses momentarily, and then closes her eyes for a little longer than a standard blink, before meeting my gaze again. This young woman was the object of my father's greatest desires, and yet never my own. I love another, although she is yet to be thrown into this world, in little under five hundred years' time.

"How much absinthe did you spill for the sake of your fire?" I can see the flames crawling out of the door, the smoke is billowing around us.

"The whole pot, my lady-"

"Then this palace is damned; we will perish as it burns to the ground-"

"No, we will not." I reach out to grab her hand in order to pull her to safety from the encroaching flames, but she simply shakes her head, her gaze pleading.

"I will. This is my home; as I die, I will die in the place of my work, my amusement, my entire life. Goodbye, Laurence."

"Alexandria, no-" She turns around, and walks straight into the flames, not even flinching as she quickly begins to burn. I look on in horror, and then turn quickly, my heartlessness and superiority overcoming me as I leave the palace.

"So long, Father. You finally have your love." I walk out of the grand doors at the front of the castle, ignoring the burning palace behind me as I walk out nonchalantly across the grounds, only looking back as I gaze in marvellous glory and triumph upon the carnage I have created. How many have died here tonight in the service of my father's death? Must I even know of the numbers? Would my painfully childish conscience ever be able to handle knowing such a thing?

I climb over the locked gates, and then drop to the ground on the other side, smiling to myself. I was always the rightful king, clearing away the mess that my father had created before my reign had even been mentioned.

"Palace in flames...the King is dead, a prince remains..." Such an influential poem, and only I had known that it would, one day, fulfill its true legacy against my greedy, womanizing and murderous father, the said "King" of the New World. Until this very night, that is.

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[Picture: Laurence Beveridge, who I thought should play Laurence Helyer. Yes, I'm very creative with names.]

[Video: Palace In Flames, the song which influenced the title of this story and some of the plot of this prologue.]