Beginning of the End

The Third Day

White-hot flames consume the stone city of Draevenna, my once beautiful home. Everywhere I look flames burn strong and bright, their heat sweltering. Their smoke chokes me and I can feel them coming closer, burning everything in their path; destroying the place I once knew. Just when I thought it was over, the unmistakable sound of stone boulders hurtling towards the already broken city at incredible speeds pierced my ears. As one landed near my body, the toxic smoke made its way into my body and to my brain, making this tragedy my last memory.

"Is she dead?" asked a Toran soldier.

Feeling her pulse, the Toran Queen, Ziana replied, "No, the girl's alive. Take her to Torah and tie her up in the dungeon, I have plans for this one."

"As you wish my lady."

*****

I cannot move my hands. I tried to scream for help but my voice comes out hoarse and raspy. The sounds of enemy soldiers razing Draevenna to the ground replays vividly in my mind, as does the feeling of nearly choking on the smoke from the wreckage. Before I  could make sense of the situation, I saw her, the Devil's mistress herself. I look away as she fixes her fiery, bright red eyes on me. Then, a feeling of vengeance sweeps over me and I can no longer cower in fear. I must get a glimpse of my enemy , for she has left me with nothing but memories of my old life and home. I turn defiantly to face her.

Her long, blond ringlets flow over her shoulders like the water does over the sand as they contrast heavily against the empty darkness of the room. Black shadows are painted heavily over her red eyes, and her lips, as bright as the lava from a volcano complete the look of evil she wears. She is clothed in an elegant, black robe that reaches her feet and hangs off the ends of her hands beautifully. To fill the empty space carved out by her open neckline, hangs a bright, star-shaped necklace, resembling very closely, the glass one my mother wore when I last saw her.

Her pale hand brushes my cheek as she paces in a circle.

"What might be the name of one good enough to survive my wrath?" asked Ziana. "Speak! I kept you alive for a reason, so have the decency to speak to those higher than you."

"My... uh... name is..."

"Tell me NOW!" Ziana shrieked in rage. "Zari, get me my knife. Maybe that will make her..."

"You are wasting your time. No knife-work or torture will make me talk to you!" I said, cutting my guard off.

"Knife!"

"Please do not  hurt me!" I said, pleading, but before I could protest anymore, the young girl name Zari walked through the door and into the room.

As Zari walks towards me, knife in hand, I take in her gorgeous, long, ginger hair and her small, light blue eyes that possess the same evil glare as Ziana's. I also cannot help but notice how much both girls look like my mother. They wear glass necklaces, fiery, dragon-shaped hairpieces and a pair of white, heeled sandals that are mostly hidden by their gowns, in the same way my mother, Lana wore them.

"Are you going to speak on your own or do I have to help you?" asked Zari.

"I am Helena, daughter of Queen Lana and King Dior of Alaeriand." I spit at her.

"Good Zari, let me take it from here. There is more I need from this princess than her name." said Ziana.

"What do you want with me?"

"Many things, but first I want to know why the crown of Alaeriand sits upon your head rather than that of your mother?"

"What? You cannot see?  I wear no crown, just a simple circlet given to me by my parents when they sent me to Draevenna."