Prologue
A single breath escaped a young woman's lips, and her soul vanished into the silent night. Then, the frailness of the dark was shattered by a single scream of insanity.
Seven healers, three fay and four elves, huddled in the corner of a bedchamber, horrified as they watched the scene unfold before them. A man knelt by the body of a woman as the warmth of life began to fade from her body. She had gone to fast. There had been nothing the healers could do.
The king let out another scream as his mind began to break, shattering into thousands of piece, just like his heart. It took only minutes for his sanity to be broken beyond repair.
His wife. His queen. Gone. Dead. He let out another scream, a soundless howl of loss and anguish. Why her? She had never done anything to deserve this. She should have died of old age, surrounded by children and grandchildren. She was supposed to live a full life, complete with happiness and joy. It was not supposed to happen this way! She was adored and respected by the people; she was not supposed to die, so young, in a cold, dark room. She was the only one he ever loved. An unimaginable guilt set in him. He had promised her that he would never let her go, that he would always be with her, and only her. And now she had wandered into a place where he couldn't follow her.
Called by their king's screams, twelve guards rushed into the room, swords drawn and amour clinking. "What happened, milord?" one of the guards asked, fears seeping through his voice.
The king shook from grief and anger. His beautiful wife was gone. She was gone because of the fay and elves, who did not save her. A sort of anger he had never known reared its head in him, and he wanted to make those who killed his wife understand pain. Trembling, the king rose from his dead wife's side and pointed at the mass of fay and elves in to corner. "They killed her," he whispered, "Kill them."
Confusion passed through the guards' faces, until they received a nod from their commander. A cold mask of indifference settled on each of their features as they approached the fay and elves. And blood covered the night.
The king stared down at the sightless eyes of the dead healers. "It is not enough," he whispered, more to himself than anyone in the room, "It is not enough. I want them all dead. All of them." He turned to his captain of the guard. "We can catch them unaware. We can cleanse the land of these wretched races."
"We will not catch them unaware, milord," the captain replied. "Sources from the inside say that their Seers have predicted this and the elves have already organized themselves into three main groups; the Colonies, the Guards, and the Thieves. I hear that the Thieves are a force to be reckoned with, the Guards are more defensive, and the Colonies are the suppliers."
The king nodded, taking in all the information. From the outside, he looked completely sane, but on the inside, voices that had not been awoken for thousands of years whispered thoughts of revenge in his mind. "The we will take out the home base. We will find the Colonies. Get your men in there. We will need power." Then under his breath, "I will need power. Power to avenge her."
Hesitantly, the captain nodded. "We will try, but their colonies will be heavily guarded, and they will be in the forest." The forest was dangerous, a place of the elves. A place men were not meant to go.
But the king wasn't listening, he was too lost in his own thoughts of vengeance and retribution. "We will avenge her," he murmured. "We will avenge her death with a thousand others."
(A/N Hello! So this is the re-written version of the prologue. I'm still not quite sure if I like it, but I took some of you guys' advice into consideration and re-wrote it. I hope you enjoyed it! Votes and comments are appreciated!!)