As Long as The Stars Align

Prologue

The cell itself was quite dirty and full of dust. It was hard to breathe and the food was close to inedible. It was supposed by the six people who sat in the small room that jail was never meant to be comfortable. If it was, then no one would really learn a lesson from spending close to an eternity in there. With the dim lighting and cramped living quarters, it was quite literally hell on earth.

One of the members, an adopted leader in a sense, sat by the door, watching warily as more people passed, not bothering to look at the group of misfits behind the bars. Behind them, one of the other people began to cry. It became sort of a comfort to the leader; the monotony of the days that passed. Everything was the same, from the growling stomachs to the whimpering cellmates.

This was probably deserved. They did break the law, committing a crime against the crown or something else, but the amount of time grew on and on as they marked the walls. Slowly days turned to weeks and weeks turned into months. It was almost time for someone's birthday but no one knew who it was anymore. No one knew anything anymore. They barely remembered their names or where they were from. Who they were or what their purpose in life was; which probably made their sentence all the worse. Losing your identity and any memories of people around you. Your family, if you even had any. It was all gone.

Alvah, the person who was in charge of their sentence, checked in with them every once in a while. It was maybe nice, no one could tell anymore. That word, nice, had long since lost any meaning to them. As far as they were aware, an extra roll was nice. A night without 5 rats was nice. Anything could be nice while at the same time it wasn't. An extra roll meant that someone in their small group had passed on. Less rats meant that they had resorted to eating one. Everything had a negative.

But when they were visited, they normally lost all pain and were tortured with information about their old identities. A piece of meat that would be dangled in front of them, only to be snatched away and devoured by Alvah the storyteller. Sometimes a name would be thrown around and sometimes a picture, a ring or a necklace. It was always new.

"So, there's still six of you?" Alvah asked, walking over to the cell and sitting on a stool outside of the door. "Impressive if you ask me, but no one ever does. None of you talk anymore. I can't say I miss it either." Alvah laughed, a grating sound that echoed around the walls. The person by the door flinched, hands covering their ears as they looked back at the person outside of the cell. "Don't look at me like that, Holland." Alvah said, crossing their arms.

Holland. Yet another clue that no one knew about. It sounded familiar, but no one would ever find out. The name struck a nerve that made everyone more interested in what the black-haired captor had to say.

"I have an idea." Alvah said, situating themselves into a more comfortable position on their stool. "How about a story? I have a great one, one that might help you in the end." Alvah shrugged.

Looking at the dark-haired free person, the one who was called Holland nodded, a tiny movement of their head to show they were listening, ready to maybe find out how this whole thing happened. Maybe they would figure out who they were and what their purpose was. Maybe they would discover their relationships and why they were all here together.

"Okay then." The person outside smiled, leaning forward once more. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? This is a story about a queen and her brother. Two best friends and a traitor. A great tale, one that has been told about for years..."

Queen. Yet another weird word.

"Once upon a time, in a world called Forkhilio; there was a king and an assassin; both of which lived in a very magical, very special world..." The captor continued, smiling widely, waving their hands as the world darkened...

"...and in the beginning, the gods walked the earth. They were almighty beings, powerful and tall. In those days, there was peace and prosperity. There was happiness all around and every week, the townsfolk would throw a party to thank the gods for their kindness. In the beginning, wars were close to none and famine was only a myth. Each of the gods ruled over a certain aspect of the lives of humans. They all had a power for a special element; earth, water, air, fire, life, death, and most importantly, magic. Everything changed however when one of the gods grew jealous of a child; the daughter of two of the gods. Fearing for their child's life, she was hidden away on the earth. With their daughter safe, the two gods rallied with the other gods. Working together to defeat the jealous god, they captured her power into a stone and hid it away on the earth; as it is impossible to fully kill a god. You may injure the body, but the powers will forever flow. Dying themselves, the gods decided to secure their magic into different stones, scattering them around the world.

Upon the death of the gods, the world fell into chaos. Greed and anger fueled those as famine struck. Kingdoms divided, starting wars over the stones. It was thought that whoever possessed the stones would hold the powers of the gods, and they would be the almighty. Thousands would perish on the thankless tasks to search for possible locations.

As for the daughter of the gods, the one that was hidden on the earth, she would grow up to be beautiful and fair. Her magic would be kept a secret, just as she would remain human. Her final godly form would be forgotten as any memory of whom she once was, was erased to protect her. She would live a good life until her untimely death, spilling her powers out into the unsuspecting world. Upon her death bed, a prophecy was crafted.

When two hundred and twenty-one years of turmoil have past,

The end you seek will come at last.

Four children born on special days,

Must never go their separate ways.

Friends will travel to the end of time,

And on the eighteenth year of one's birth, evil will fall, when the stars align."

"That is only a child's tale." The scratchy voice of an old ruler said, coughing to clear their throat. "It holds no truth." They continued, shadowed in the dim lighting as they threw the book into the spluttering fire. In the centre of the dilapidated castle stood a dark figure, trembling under the heavy glare of the ruler that sat in the chair. They shivered in the cold, damp wind that circulated the crumbling building.

"I understand." The figure responded, breath swirling around in the air. "Your highness." They added hastily. Puddles of water filled the ground, the soft rain dripping into the throne room through the holes in the roof. The only furniture that remained in the dark room was a throne; made of onyx and the town's insignia engraved into it. A bear with a sword pierced through its heart.

"Doesn't matter anymore. Did you find her?" The figure on the throne asked, leaning forward to watch the dark figure. "The charms?"

"We think we found her." The cloaked figure said, dropping into a low bow. "We set a fire to hopefully kill the brat, and as for the charms, they have been demolished." The figure continued, rising to stand fearfully in front of the one they called master.

"Perfect." The ruler stated, laughing as much as allowed when you're sick. "Everything is falling into place. The prophecy must never come true. Those charms must never be connected." Coughing once again and, this time, blood splattered onto the white handkerchief.

"If you don't mind me asking, master...why did we have to kill her?" The figure asked, shying away as if they would have been smite-d for asking. "She was just a baby."

"You dare question me!" The person on the throne rose, shaking with the effort. "Do you know who I am! No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to find out who the true heir to the throne is! She better be dead, and if she is not, I will be having your head for dinner." The ruler growled, walking over to the cloaked figure.

"Yes master! She is, master! Sorry master!" The black figure said, cowering in fear, the embers dying out as they gave up their effort, plunging the room into darkness.