Seranna: A Short Story

"My time is near the end, I have no son. So the man who kills the winged elf, will have my daughter's hand and my crown. ' The king gasped, before closing his eyes.

Melisende's injured hand lay limp in the bonds as her other worked feverishly trying to free herself from the makeshift bonds keeping her ankles and wrists held together. Her fingers curled beneath the string in an effort to get her palm curled enough to free her hand however just as she managed to get one finger lodged through, she heard the hard clumps of his boots as they approached her bound form before she felt his roughened hands moving around her svelte body before lifting her up over his shoulder and flopping her down on her stomach, her wrists and ankles still painfully held together behind her. Melisende inhaled sharply in pain as her stomach was pressed painfully against his shoulder.

She had been warned about the book once before, but still, through her immense curiosity, she hastily decided to dismiss the warnings. Her choices had now been etched in the past, now it was too late! There was not that could change what is to come for our poor Alice. At the touch of Alice’s hand the book now looking increasingly more dreadful the longer she stared. She tried to look away but her gaze was affixed on the ghastly tomb. Suddenly Alice could feel her body pulsating with the every contraction of the heart! A bead of sweat roles down the young girl’s brow, over her cheeks and down her chin. Its falls. Down it tumbles almost in an instant the drop hits the book. The

“What a fucking baby we have here.” Gurid dropped released Joan’s hair and started roaring with laugher. “Do all of King Arthur’s knights weep like you?”

“Poor King,” Guila said as her weapon began to charge up its attack before launching it at King. “SHOT BOMB!”

“I see... I won’t turn back on my word.” Kragen told him. He snapped his fingers and two guards dropped bags of Crowns at the bandit’s feet. “Be gone now.”

She tilted her head to stare at Merlin. "You saved my life from that monster twice. I thought it was my own uncontrolled magic that caused his knife to burn in his hand and I was so terrified Uther may have seen what happened that I never tried to reason out what really went on. It never made sense for that horrible man to cough up a toad when the woman's story had already been denounced as a belladonna-induced vision, and besides it was suicide to do such a thing in front of Uther." Other facts fell into place. "You conjured a smoke illusion in front of witnesses, then used magic in full view of both Uther and Arthur to make Aredian drop his knife only days after the witchfinder accused you of sorcery." She shook her head. "And you call me

People often say that “every person is the hero of their own story.” What they don’t tell you is that sometimes you are the villain in someone else’s story. Sometimes we unintentionally hurt people without knowing. Being the villain in someone else's life doesn’t always mean purposely being evil. Sometimes it means hurting someone emotionally, stabbing their wounds, and being completely oblivious to it. This is the story of the time I learned that lesson the hard way.

“I believe that the king's personal sorceress, Jujefaris, would be able to fix it quite easily. She is the one who created it, after all.”

I twisted around, facing the strange, “you! Its your fault she like this, you dragged her to that dammed faery court of yours, to your precious king, its you fault” I was crying now, tears tracing jagged lines down my visage “you stole her life and gave her death.”

Jarl doesn't move, as though Constantine surely hadn't said what he just said. Constantine nods. Jarl is forced to untie my hands, and I take back my sword even as he resists. I rub my wrists to ease the pain from the rough rope that rubbed my skin raw.

“Damian, this is the sixth time you’ve been hurt. You’re supposed to evade my attack, not stand there and stare at the sky.” Juliet took some cloth and wrapped it around his injured hand. “You’re too soft. Feeble. Meek. How are you going to be king?” She scoffed as she continued bandaging him.

The flames swayed as they filtered through the stale air. Ashemeel stomped down the stairs leading to the dungeon. He lighted each dusty lantern as he walked down the stone steps, illuminating a row of torture chambers. Placing his torch into the sconce, the shape of the woman became clear. The cold and hard iron left their purple-blue marks. She rubbed and scratched her wrists and ankles. Blood soaking through the scabs under her shackles. The enchanter looked at the older woman’s face. He saw her white hair curled up, and gentle look she espoused. He entered. She scuttled back until she felt the ruff stones at her back. She saw his face.

When he set foot in the tower, all eyes were looking at him. "Pretend you're supposed to be here. People fall for lies that are fed to them with an assertive stance", Julian thought to himself as he remembered his training. He waited for half a second before he spoke loudly. "Hey, back to your positions, I didn't tell you to get out of your post without my permission. For those that are wondering who the fuck I am, I am for now your Commander, orders of Lady Fergusson, and I shall have your full obedience while I'm coordinating the defence in this tower. If you still doubt my word, just look at the fact that the weapon I have is of your own kind, provided by your Lady herself, and question no more. Now resume your positions, or I shall have you whipped after this is done",

She stood motionless, refusing to leave as he had asked. He was having a difficult time controlling his angry over her subordination, even threatening to kill her if she didn’t leave. Yet, she stood her ground with him, finally accepting the fact, that she would not leave him, and dismissed her from his thoughts, to continue to ponder the unfortunate events of the day. He sat stoically, his anger slowly subsiding, for the rest of the day and into the late hours of the night.