Cold. Murder. And Death, the very essence of the closed chamber. Large bowls of fire were suspended from above, dancing so eagerly it seemed they would die off within another flick of air. The walls were made of rectangular stones and bricks with different shades of gray that seemed to reach the heavens in their intimidating height. In the center of the room, on the tile floor, a trefoil symbol was cemented, which was very symbolic to them: the immortals.
He sat on the throne, staring at the tall and dark doors with iron barriers. The knights stood beside the door, never blinking nor breathing. They were like cemented statues, or even like the terra cotta soldiers. He cracked his knuckles as he anticipated his coming.
The traitor. He was standing next to the King, his hands behind his back, feeling the guilt weigh on his heart, closing all the veins that pumped blood into it. He just turned in his brother for his own selfish purposes. But the King was grateful for the traitor and his actions.
Suddenly the doors exploded -its creaking sound equivalent to a falling tree- two knights held the man's hands behind his back as they roughly pushed him into the room against his will. He grunted as the knights grasped onto his arms with more pressure, inflicting intense pulses through his veins. His brother, the traitor, never looked him in the eye, even if the man glared directly at him, exerting his revulsion at his own blood.
The King was contended, he finally had what he's wanted; the power to his army.
The knights pushed the man in the middle of the three circles that were united in the center of the ground-the trefoil symbol.
"I demand you to let me go, now!" The man yelled at the King, the knights tugged on his wrinkled shirt. The King grinned and shook his head. A sinister smile was pressed upon his lips that closely resembled a dog with its teeth bared.
"Dear boy, do you not see that your brother has sent you to me? You are officially under my rule, just like he is. Besides, it's best if you give up your mortality now, rather than waiting more precious years that would wear you off." His voice thundered across the room, even when he was calm. He was that intimidating and dangerous.
"Well that is his business, not mine." the man replied, his brown hair was slightly sticking onto his forehead from all the struggle to escape their reach. The man's innocent green eyes sliced the King's cold, foggy ones; an unfathomable pit of darkness.
"Ha! No, now you are my business. We all know that this is what you want, its always been that way. You can't escape this time." The King sighed as he stood up, extending his tall figure. He walked down the five steps carefully as he reached the man. His slow approach was nerve wrecking, every second felt like a heavy hour.
"I do want to apologize for the inconvenience. I didn't want to make this circumstance even more strenuous, you see, we could have accommodated for a simpler path, but now, not even an ultimatum is worth facing. You leave me no choice. For years, you've been hiding from me, but thanks to Damian," The King looked back at the traitor. He looked down, not accepting the King's gratitude, "Now I have you here." He extended his arms and patted the man's head. The man pulled back to avoid his touch, as a sign of refusal. The King laughed under his breath.
"Guards." He dismissed the two knights who held the man. They both let go, bowed, and walked back to the doors, protecting the area. Their silver armor and helmet portrayed a deathly effect. Then again they were working for the Man of Death, the King of death: the Ruler.
"I can't promise this won't impair you, but just know you're destiny is in greater hopes and you'll no longer be mortal." He leaned in, near the man's ear and whispered, "Forever." In that swift movement, the King kicked the man, he flew back and landed on his back, knocking the breath in him. The man grunted as his head cracked on the tile. Blood. A beautiful red glow appeared from his head that trickled onto the floor. The King picked him up from the neck and started to clench his fingers, crunching his knucles as he narrowed the man's throat. The man struggled for air, his only hope for survival. Air was the key back to his mortality, his life.
This is where the King seems to enjoy his "job", which was hurting others. He cracked the legs of the man as his own, evil hand cracked the bones. A sharp, piercing sound that made the traitor, even the guards, light-headed; another sound would surely make them regurgitate. The man screamed in agony as his fractured skeleton remained whole, of course, he didn't know that. The traitor stood there, watching his brother, the man in pain, slowly die.
Their eye's finally met, the worst sight the traitor could possibly see. His guilt started to devour inside, this wasn't what he wanted for his brother. That was his death, watching his on brother die because of him.
Suddenly, just as the King was just about finished, the man was then engulfed into the flames, the flames that the King summoned with his supernatural powers. Just one touch ignited the mutilated man. Screams filled the room, such a screeching sound that seemed to last....
As the flames dimmed, after minutes of watching the deteriorating body ashen, the King had finished. He stepped away from the slowly-burning man and looked at the quiet flames as they danced eagerly on him. As if remembering the tragedy of Joan of Arc. The King knew that the man would be in a better place, maybe this life. He knew that he would come back. He also knew that he would have a superior army, once the burned man was awakened from his deep sleep. The screams were swallowed whole by the sizzling sparks and the flames burned out.
You would think there would be a burnt man, dead and lifeless on the floor. The King would laugh at this, since this wasn't his plan-he wanted to transform him. He couldn't kill him, oh no! The man on the floor, who was burning, who had his bones broken, whose head was cracked and bleeding, was nothing like before.
He was different.
The guards protecting the large doors said in unison, "Long live the King."
The traitor shook his head slightly as he stared down at his terminated brother and swore that one day the King would pay for everything.
It would be a long-term battle, but it was worth the fight.
With a quiet and insignificant murmur that was hardly audible, he whispered, "Long live the Olympians."
So hello there! This is my first story that I have uploaded on Wattpad. At first it was just a story I wrote for fun but I really started to invest my time on it...and bam, its here!
Anyways, just the prologue will be in third person, but the rest will be in first, just to let you know.
Okay! I'm going to say this cause it has been bugging me when I re-read this story to proof read(which I have yet to complete) but there are some scenes where I...was inspired. Those scenes happen to come from a story that we have all heard about, read, or watched the movie on. It's about vampires?....okay, yeah that series. So I do apologize if they do become a little similar, that is why now since the story is completed I will be changing minor scenes just to make it more of my story, in a way. But please don't let that get in the way, keep on reading and if you happen to finish this story, then I have posted the sequel of it, but its not yet completed.
Thanks for checking this out and I appreciate all your votes and comments :)
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