PrologueMature

In a world of magic and mystery, two young nobles are arranged to be married. Reginald must learn what it takes to be a king, but all Vivika wants is to have fun. When a strange box enters the picture, death and chaos follows. Can Viv and Reggie make it out intact?

On the crest of the hill, a king sat astride a pure white mare. Armour covered him from neck to torso. The crest of Alterra stood out on his breastplate; a phoenix rising from a flame. His helmet covered most of his face, but his eyes, brown as milk chocolate, were visible from within. They seemed unreadable. A sword, longer than his arm, glinted gold from his hand. He alone was on the crest of that hill, but he hadn’t come alone.

          Down in the valley below, hundreds of men and women battled. Some used spears, others used swords, and still others used bow and arrows. The king knew how many soldiers in that valley were his. Almost four hundred more than the enemy had. Each one was trained rigorously. They would not be defeated. He would get her back.

          Wait… Her? Suddenly, the whole scene changed. The king was no longer quite so regal or confident. He was younger. He wasn’t sure where he was. He knelt at the edge of a pond. It stood serenely still, disturbed only by the odd breeze. Minnows swam throughout and lily pads rested on top. In the reflection on the water, he could make out a manor behind him, made of smooth gray stone with a simple gabled roof. He heard familiar laughter, with one more laugh blended in that he didn’t recognize.

          As he gazed into the blurry reflection of himself, a figure approached behind him. Oddly, he didn’t turn to see who it was. The figure was clad in a long lemon-yellow dress that fluttered in the wind. Red hair blew in wisps around their face. A straw sun hat perched atop their head. The person sat down.

          “There once was a dragon, the littlest of all her pack,” said the girl. Her voice seemed distant, impossible to pin down with any accent or mannerism. “Her name was Una. She wanted to join the others when they marched off to battle, but her father would hear none of it. She was delicate and sweet, not fit for the battlefield. Or so he thought.”

          The girl laughed again, and everything faded away.

The End

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