Have I ever mentioned that 13 is my lucky number? Lucky for me, last week SAM from My Write Side started the first Story Circle for the new year. SAM chose Chelle of A Writer Is Born to pick up the threads of her story. If you’re new to The Forest King, catch up on SAM’s beginning here.
The Forest King: Part Two:
Chival’s fluorescent eyes narrow, watching trees waver, resembling fine puffs of mist. Muscles constricting, his stance signals he is prepared to defend his kingdom. Wisps of lavender escape from the forest, competing against the overpowering reminders of despair and decay. The familiar scent of lavender taunts a memory banished long ago into the depths of disbelief. Tentacles of whispers rise from the crevasses of his pain, pushing, prodding him to face his greatest denial. Snorting in despair, he rises on hind legs, conveying his intentions.
Long before Chival’s reign, it was deemed a mirror image of him would undo all of which was known to the kingdom. The elders placed staunch predictions within his mind of the prophecy. Warnings he’d chosen to ignore, confident blood lines held stronger legions of loyalty than words written hundreds of years prior. He’d refused to take under advisement words which held little to no truth. It mattered not the objective guidance of the elders carefully selected to advise Chival. Mendacious arrogance may have cost him far more than he’d anticipated.
His senses cause him to move forward, slowly, eyes fixated on the intermittent yellow hue flickering through the trees. Head lifted, nostrils detect a subtle shift of essence in the air. His hoof stumbles on a loose rock, awkwardly launching his body forward. Madness propels itself into his mind’s eye, blinding him with fragmented memories of another. Gaining control of his footing quickly, nausea plunges through his heart as the familiar scent transforms into a peculiar mixture of freshly plowed earth tempered with murky undertones. The enemy was far more powerful than he’d anticipated.
Sadness competes with rage as Chival heedfully approaches the yellow hue beckoning him. It is written in the scrolls what is to take place. Resistance mars his thoughts as distant resplendent eyes flicker across the whiteness. He wonders if those who have penned his destiny have accounted for unexpected changes. Grievously, he realizes all were blinded by the depths of resentment.
His steps falter as his eyes drink in the sight before him. His mind races to catch up with what is captured in his vision. Disbelief courses through his veins, as he resists the urge to disintegrate into flames of torment. The one element, which had sustained him for the last one hundred years shattered before his very eyes. Instantaneously, loyalty ceases to be an option for Chival.