It was a marvelous day. The summer sun shone brightly, casting blankets of warmth upon the land. Birds sung their tunes cheerfully, adding the cherry on top of what should have been a happy day.
The flowers that were carefully planted—daisies, tulips, and even a rose bush—around the building by the gardener were trampled and crushed by the large, black boot of the soldier. A handful of soldiers piled out of the large, black vans. And as this happened in every school, every church, and every place where people gathered, the soldier would bring out their captive, chained in silver chains.
A similar group of soldiers was now leading—actually, partly dragging—a man with long, black hair, pulled tightly into a low ponytail. He wore a black trench coat open, a suit and tie underneath. He was handsome, as many would say. This man was chained in silver chains.
He was a witch, a warlock, a wizard, a sorcerer, or whatever one would call him. And the group of soldiers, the Ligare, would use just that to their advantage. They were to bring in into the school that was their assignment, beat him if necessary until he willingly gave the name of the all magical persons of the room. You see, magical persons can sense magical persons with, well, magic.
There's always been evil in the world, always, since the beginning of time. It was always the task of these magical persons to keep the order, to protect the humans. Magic was created by none other than God himself to protect the precious humans. And so, they had lived in secret, until now.
A man, unknown but widely known, was terrorizing the world. Of course, a world as old as this is no stranger to terror. But never has the Earth experienced this.
This man, leader of the Ligare, has planned to destroy all rogue guardians, those that have went into hiding. None know what this plan will become, but many assure that it will only be a part of a greater scheme.
Now, ten soldiers, clad in black, the Ligare symbol embellished randomly upon their uniforms, guide their guardian "companion" into Liberty High School.
As they enter, all students are called to the cafeteria. The imprisoned man laughs to himself as to how all the students could fit in such a tiny room, or a tiny school for the matter. The students filed in in only minutes, trained for their visit with the Ligare.
Hands behind your backs.
Do not speak unless spoken to.
The school had given these warnings the entire week, and other schools around the world had probably given similar warnings.
On cue, the imprisoned man entered the middle of the room. He would give out a name every now and then, just to keep the soldiers believing he was compliant, pretending not to notice the countless guardians that he had detected.
If he detected one, they would take the hiding guardian to either their death or to the capital. He wasn't that sure what the capital was, but he imagined it was a horrible fate. There were no happy fates when it came to terrorism.
But now, he was in the center of the room, scanning all the faces. What unusual the fashion these days, he thought, with all the piercing and rainbow hair.
He closed his eyes, ready to feel the auras in the air to detect any presence of magic. And then he felt it. He felt a power that he had not felt in almost 100 years. 94 years, to be exact. He had been counting every last second.
"Sera?" He called out longingly, his eyebrows furrowing in desperation.
"Just find the magic, witch." An intimidating soldier with broad shoulders commanded.
The man turned around to face the large soldier. "Do not call me witch."
The guard came closer to the man. The students all around them gasped in fear. Violence was approaching, they knew.
"Witch," the man sneered, receiving a chorus of laughter from the other soldiers that was cut short.
The broad shouldered soldier was turned to ice, a large blue-ish statue of his real form.
The other soldiers started to sprint towards the transgressor. "He's supposed to be weakened in silver!" one bellowed in a scratchy voice.
Before the soldiers had taken only a few steps, they were popsicle-ized as well.
"I am not a witch," the man said to the frozen men. "I am King Julien, Father of Ice. Yes, of course your silver shackled weaken me, but as I said, I am King Julien, Father of Ice. My weakest is still better than anyone else's best." As he spoke the last word, the silver shackles froze, and then broke into a million pieces.
He turned. "Anyone's best, except..." he trailed off, scanning the room.
He spoke directly to the crowd. "I can't feel you," he said. "But, I feel your power radiating. I feel your protection spell. There is no other that could cast a spell this powerful. Even I cannot find you."
The crowd remained silent. "94 years!" he shouted. "94 years you've gone into hiding. Seraphina, my love, the world is in need of you. The world, she's crumbling, and you, with all your power, are hiding like a coward."
The crowd spoke no words, not even a cough. He looked around, desperate.
"I've waited almost a century for this and I can't even find you," he laughed brokenly. "Sera, my love."
Silence. "You give me no choice," he pleaded to the crowd, making uncomfortable eye contact with many members of the crowd. He pulled out a black vial and held it in the air.
"Black death," he announced. "One drop and I will become ill, one drink and I will die. The cure? I think you know. For this poison has inspired many fairy tales, the cure is true love's kiss."
He removed the plug from the vial. "Let's just hope you're still my true love, Seraphina."
He tilted the vial to his lips, drinking only one drink of the poison before he let out a loud gasp and fell to the ground, the vial shattering. The students gasped, but still remained still and silent. Julien withered on the ground, dying. It was clear that his hands were turning black. He glanced upward, revealing the blood pouring from his eyes.
In the back of the crowd, a girl squirmed, the only movement in a still crowd. After Julien's head fell and he lay still did she push through the crowd, shattering her veil of secrecy. Her disguise of rainbow hair and an almost covered face of piercings melted away, to the shock of the crowd transfigured back to her fiery red hair and soft, white face. She cradled Julien's head on her lap, and quickly placed her lips to his.
The illusion of blood from his eyes, as well as his black hands, floated away like steam. A smile formed on his face. "Hello, True Love."
Sera's eyes widened in anger. Before the words could leave her mouth, Julien had grabbed her, and the two of them disappeared, leaving only snowflakes that turned to steam.
YOU ARE READING
Princess of FlamesFantasy
We can never hide from our problems, because they will always find us in the end. We have to take control of our demons before they demolish us. Seraphina learned that the hard way. The Princess of Flames had gone into hiding for 94 years, hiding fr...