Alexandria: The Lost Princess

Chapter 4 - Part 1

The soft crackling of fire hums in the air, a campfire? Curiosity opens my eyes to a blurry warm glow behind the trees reaching across the sky. The hill in the clearing is still an icy cold with blue hues. I'm home? Rolling over, I press into someone's stomach, startled I jump up, whipping around to see Tristan. Taking in every old scar, and lack of brawling wounds, I sigh with relief. It was all just a terrible nightmare. We had fallen asleep on top of the hill again.

Glancing down towards the hill, the cold darkness sends a chill through me. A hazy fog creeps through the trees reminding me of the fire's smoke. It's just fog, normal morning dampness, nothing else.

Climbing to my feet, I feel no ache or strain from the cut. Pulling up my skirt, I stare at the smooth bare leg, untouched by dirt or blood. Tristan stands, tilting his head confused by my focus on my leg.

"Your bleeding," his voice echoes through the hill sounding like a voice whispering from the other side of a tunnel.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I stare at my skin, void of any wounds. Out of the pores, a bud of red pushes out of my skin. Cocking my head to the side, I watch it ooze a single steady stream of sticky blood. It trickles down my leg and drips onto the grass around my feet.

Looking to Tristan for an answer to the odd occurrence, I scream. Covering my mouth, I try to muffle the horror that echoes through the forest. Tristan's face, battered and broken, blood drips from his crooked nose. His eye swollen shut bruised a deep reddish purple. Blood pours from a gash along his cheek. Mud drenches his clothing, he looks no different then he did struggling underneath Wilfrid.

The ground stretches and twists, separating us. Staring at the ground, it blurs in a rush of movement, my body felt still and unaffected. Tristan makes a gargled sound, and I gasp. Blood pools in his mouth, dribbling from his lips. Racing after him the ground continues to reel back and no matters how many steps I take, I can't get any closer to him.

A blade pokes out from his chest, sliced right through him. Slumping over, he slides off the dagger, bathed in his blood, it shines. Screaming, I fall to my knees staring at Tristan's lifeless body crumpled to his side. A gargled cry full of horror fills the hill. Standing in Tristan's place, boots on either side of his mangled body is General Kalen. His body framed with a warm glow lit by the fires crackling in the trees behind him. That was the noise that woke me. The crackling of the fire, the burning of my home.

The fire licks my cold flesh, burning me. It surrounds him like he were the focal point and a sinister smile radiating from him like a cloak of death. Black demon eyes suck the air from my lungs. Crowned with a golden hat, beaded with crystals matching his blade. The Cruel King. A blood-curdling scream pierces my ears, it doesn't even sound like mine anymore.

From the fog down the hill, two shadows drag an unconscious body across the grass. Ash coats their footprints, the shadows nothing more than faceless soldiers. Flakes of flesh flutter off the corpse that they drag. Wrinkled and cracked it is charred to an unrecognizable state. An ache in my heart tells me I know this man. The fire blurred off his features, but this is my uncle.

My voice pitches beyond recognition, my screams endless. Creating a wind of my own, my screams push across the field ripping the grass up, and it flies twirling into the air. Nothing visible but the thick tornado of grass. A shadow calmly steps through the storm. The form grows into a distinct outline of a man. His crown outlined and his foot pushes through the grass walls, coming for me.

~

Ear piercing screams force me back into reality. Snapping open my eyelids, insides of the wagon surround me. High pitched cries deafen me, a ringing of white noise suddenly plugs my ears. It hums and not even the sound of the horses trotting or the wagon wheels rolling can be heard. I know I'm screaming, I just can't feel it. My whole body is separated from my conscious.