The Damsel and her Knight

♚ The Tyrant's Friend

♚ The Tyrant's Friend

GAVIN

In this dark night filled with hasty killings and innocent bloodshed, an elderly sorcerer was creating a powerful incantation. Gavin counted the streaks of light coming from the earthen vessel, as a distinct odor filled the room. Fragrant, one might say, like peppermint. But the sorcerer knew that the more aromatic a spell was, the deadlier it would be once it was cast.

His breaths were getting heavier by the minute, feeling the sharp, searing pain that came from the open wound on his right arm. It was a reminder that all the things that had happened weren't just a dream.

The rain heavily poured outside, sending relief as it died down the fire covering the entire village. The kingdom had completely fallen into the hands of the tyrant, Henry. At last, the war was finally over.

Gavin had his own sins, and that as much he knew. For when he could have stopped his old friend, the tyrant, he had only watched in the sidelines as the events of the past weeks had unfolded—Henry commanding his soldiers to kill anyone who would go against his plan; civilians untimely losing their lives; prisoners dragged to the underground chambers, increasing by day; the royal family taken in captive; King Oliver tied on both hands and ridiculed by the tyrant; and the kingdom itself, half of it burning to the ground.

He should have never let this day came about. From the day he met him, during that cold, wintry night, when a relentless knock came on the door of his master's abode in the depth of the mountain, Gavin knew that there was an unyielding darkness in Henry's heart.

Henry had a plan when he had asked Gavin's master to make him an immortal. Years later, Gavin finally knew what it was. He had asked for immortality for the purpose of seeing this futile night.

Henry impatiently went back and forth in the room, and Gavin hastily proceeded with his magic spell. The tyrant—now, self-proclaimed king—would take over the throne at dawn, but there was one thing that was holding him back:

"You may have succeeded on taking over the throne, but heed my words for the heavens have heard our agonizing cries. On the morrow, a child will be born, and a seal will be cast on her birth. On her twelfth year, the seal that could bring to life a sword that could put an end to your life would be revealed. When the right time comes, the girl will meet the prince. And when the seals become one, your time will be finally over."

These were the words of a female sorcerer in service of King Oliver. Last night, when Henry had taken over Forthwind Castle, the residence of the king, in between all the chaos, the female sorcerer had managed to summon and direct a spell to Henry, unexpectedly pronouncing the immortal tyrant's imminent death. The powerful lady sorcerer, who hadn't even reached her thirtieth year and her full potential, had sacrificed her life for the kingdom.

Now, in this shady room, Gavin glanced at the tyrant's face as another lightning bolt illuminated the place. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. There was guilt in Gavin's heart, an unspoken truth about what he had truly done. He was the tyrant's friend, but when he saw Henry turn into a devil himself, Gavin had also felt the need to put an end to his madness.

"Where is he?" Henry angrily roared, his voice filling the emptiness of the room.

"We'll get him, Your Highness," the servants stuttered in unison. The two women hurriedly went upstairs to fetch Henry's son, Lancelot.

The spell that Gavin was creating would transfer the appearance of the seal to Lancelot's right hand. Gavin clearly knew that he could only alter the appearance, not the spell itself. Alec, King Oliver's son, would still have the ability to summon the sword, but Lancelot would have the seal on his hand. This was what he'd proposed to Henry as the cleverest way to prevent the curse from happening. The girl in the prophesy would never see the seal on Alec's hand, but she would think that it was Lancelot who had it all along.