To Die [An Original Story]

Prologue

Trigger Warnings may apply. Proceed at your own risk.

Winds howled. Storms brewed. Rain and hail crashed. Tension thickened. Shouts and cries were heard throughout the whole city. An overpowering smell of smoke wafted in from the village. It was up in flames, and even the rain couldn't slow it.

Harsh heaves choked his lungs and his feet were numb from the cold and all the running. Something sloshed around in his boots and he knew he had accidentally collected some rain water in them.

At last he rounded a path and he was at the gates. He was out of the city grounds. Out of the war.

He grabbed onto the stone fence, panting violently for air, lungs burning and body aching.

He heard heavy footfalls behind him- much like the sound soldiers made when they ran. He quickly realized it may be just that, panic sparking in his chest. He reached up and grappled the rungs of the fence, pulling himself up and finding purchase with his feet. This was more difficult than usual because of the downpour over head and the rush he was in.

He heard the footsteps getting closer then he heard a startled gasp.

"Hey! You there! Get down from there!" A rugged masculine voice snapped. Their tone was angry and sharp and they seemed to be a fan of illegal substances since their voice was heavy with classic symptoms of smokers lungs.

The boy scrambled up the fence, nearly to safety. To freedom. He could barely hear a thing over the pounding in his ears.

He felt calloused fingers close around his ankle and he gasped sharply in terror. He moved his leg in erratic movements, trying to kick him off.

Then the soldier yanked hard on him and he cried out in surprise, falling back to the ground as his ankle was let go. He quickly found his bearings, scrambling to his feet, grasping at the fence desperately.

He was grabbed just as quick, shoved harshly against the surface, made to face the soldier. They had unsheathed their sword and quickly slid it under the monsters neck, forcing him to look up into their eyes.

The man was as rugged as his voice and he had a scraggly beard, his face long and his chin coming to a sharp point. The boy didn't like the look of him.

"Tell me your name, boy." He ordered, a rough hand holding tight onto the boys collar.

"I- I-" He stumbled over words, heart pounding in his chest. "Apollyon. My name is Apollyon. Let me go." His voice was small and weak, too scared to speak louder.

" 'Apollyon'? Isn't that the name of this kingdoms king?" The man asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed dangerously. He was close to Apollyon, too big and too strong for him to try and fight back.

"U- uhm, yah. My parents were uh, r- really loyal to him. So they named me after him." He put a hand on his wrist, trying to pull it off of him.

The man growled and held Apollyons collar harder. "You know that bastard doesn't like non changelins', right? He'd have no use for a pathetic monster like you, you know."

Apollyon gulped down a lump of panic. "I- I know. I don't like him either. That's why I'm leaving."

The man laughed, a harsh and rough cackling sound. "Seriously? Well, you're out of luck, buddy. I've gotten orders from my queen that no one is to leave this city. We're taking over. And anyone who tries to flee. . ."

He pressed the blade on Apollyons neck harder. It pushed at his skin, ready to break through.

"Will be executed." He finished his thought, a grim smile on his face.

"U- um!" Apollyons fight returned and he grabbed the blade, pushing it off it off of his neck. It cut into his fingers and he tensed at the pain.

"Fine. I'll let you go. But you have to give me something in return."

The soldiers words hung in the air.

"What. . . What is this 'something'?" Dread settled in his stomach. His eyes were wide and his pulse was racing.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, boy." The guard closed the space between them. It was suffocating, him mere inches away. He could smell the nicotine and the smoke. He could feel his thick breath on his cheek. Apollyons hand trembled, still clutching the blade and keeping it off of his neck, not wanting to be killed. He was too young to die. He wasn't even 14 cycles yet.

"You got three options. You can stop fighting and go back into the city. Act like this never happened. Or you can fight and I will kill you." He moved the blade forward harshly, cutting deeper into Apollyons fingers and nearly slicing his neck.

"Or, you can let me do what I want then I can let you leave the city." He whispered, the words echoing in the boys head.

He felt dizzy, nauseated, sick.

He spoke. One word. "No."

"Then I guess I'll have to kill you."

He launched forward, grabbing Apollyons wrist and shoving it back, allowing him space to press the blade on Apollyons neck. They locked eyes, the boys eyes watery and shaking and the soldiers stern and malicious.

Apollyons fingers barely brushed the cold metal, bleeding causing them to feel numb.

Then, in an act of desperation before he was killed, he riled up his magic from the depths of his soul, his aura. A flame burned, unseen, through him. It passed through his fingertips and into the weapon.

The soldier didn't know what was coming.

He let out a shout as pure magical electricity shot through the metal, causing it to shatter like glass.

He jumped back, surprised at the display of Apollyons unusually strong magic. He was stunned momentarily, letting Apollyon turn around and grab onto the fence, heaving himself up, a lot more desperate then before.

Apollyon ignored the several small shards of metal stuck in his arm and chest. He'd check those later. He got to the top of the twenty foot stone fence, looking back at the soldier who he never learned the name of. He spat on him before jumping off the other side.

He knew challenges lay ahead but this wasn't his day to die.