1989, war rages between Colran and Elktan on the island of Coltar. James, a 14-year-old Colran boy, living in occupied Fehahra, is unwittingly chosen to be a member of an old prophecy. With dangers around the corner, James and his friends, new and o...
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Sunday, February 14th, 1989
Moonlight gleamed through the blue and green stained-glass window onto a torn-up piece of crinkled paper which lay on the table at the entrance of Marsten Hall. The light divided perfectly along the middle, with the top half being the northern forest green and the bottom the southern navy blue. The eyes of former rulers from Elktan, Colran and Kilgor stared disapprovingly from their old painted portraits peeling away in places. Each with their own golden inscription along the bottom. The most notable being that of Igor Rett, considered to be the first ruler of Kilgor.
The flags of each nation hung down along the wall, refusing to sway, as the wind blew gently down the corridor, like the nations themselves. Unchanging, determined, and locked into their own cultures.
The purple carpet matched the colour of the Kilgorese flag and led up to the paper. It was coated in new dusty boot prints, and high-heeled shoes led into the ballroom. The footprints flickered under the light of the chandelure, which danced above the room. The music leaked out of the ballroom, flickering between string Colran and woodwind Elkran tunes. The waltz escaped the hall and down to the bottom of the hill as quickly as the single state of Kilgor had been divided into Colran and Elktan.
Despite the music's filling him with energy, James could feel a burning in his stomach. He had held off eating all day and was glad as he squeezed through the smallest gap in the entranceway towards the main ballroom. He could see the Lords congregating inside, blocking the view of the negotiation table in a sea of green and blue. To his surprise, he couldn't spot a slither of purple amongst the crowd.
Elite Lord Madison must be there. I'd do anything to see him, to meet him. I want to shake his hand and join the guard, he thought. James felt his fingers grind against the fray, and his knees, though his trousers, touch the dirty carpet. He took a deep breath in. His vision blurred a little, and his hands started to sweat as he could hear the footsteps of Lords and Ladies surrounding him. He felt more nauseous with every single sound.
Focus, I need to get in. It is so busy, with all these people, there is no way anyone would notice me. I must see Madison. James felt a gown brush against his head. That was his cue. He dived forward to get through the gap in the door. His throat tightened, and his legs froze. His fair skin started to turn pale when he heard a bombardment of words shouted at him as his red hair was flung in front of his red eyes.
"I don't understand! Talk, Colrat, you jerk!" James said. His right hand trembling and fingers twitching, he could feel the spinarak silk shirt, but not the tooth button. More words passed through his ears, and he took a deep breath as his knees ached. James looked down and saw the carpet with tiny specs of blood on it. His knees tingled.
"Hey, sorry about my colleague." a man said as he waved his arms in front of him. The man knelt beside James; his blue tie brushed against James's head. "What are you trying to do? I guess it has something to do with going somewhere you shouldn't, am I right?"
