The King's Labyrinth
Prologue
A Tale of Two Brothers
Once upon a time, there lived two brothers.
These two brothers were princes of another world, and they had a powerful destiny that would one day be fulfilled—although they did not know this.
The first brother: brave, righteous and good, was often left to care for his younger brother, a brother that was sly, damned and evil.
The two brothers loved one another deeply, but it was engraved in their souls that once they learnt of their true identity, the second brother would betray the first.
And so, both brothers would travel to the land that was their true home, and a brutal war would begin.
The first brother—the Righteous Prince—would fight for his people, who were being held prisoner by the current King of the land, and the second brother—the Damned Prince—would fight for his place on the throne, where he would rule over his people, like the vicious king before that, with a cruelty so merciless that it would have the power to kill the plants that grew, and block out the light of the sun.
In this Land of Lost Souls, the Damned Prince had always proved victorious, and the world had turned desolate and wild. Souls that still believed in the Righteous Prince were beginning to lose hope that they would ever be freed from their prison, and when Souls lost hope, they would allow the wild and desolate land to change them into corrupt and vicious creatures— Demons—mindless slaves of the King, and damned to remain in their prison forever.
This was a cycle that had been going on for longer than anyone could even comprehend; two brothers of the mortal world were chosen to fight for their land, and the King of Demons would wait patiently for the next War to begin.
Two brothers.
Good and Evil.
The Righteous and the Damned.
The little boy played with the amulet around his neck, and looked up at the woman who lay on the bed with him.
"Will those people ever be freed, Mommy?" Dean asked, taking the thumb out of his mouth and snuggling up to his mother after she'd finished telling him the Tale of the Two Brothers that he always asked for when he couldn't sleep.
"Perhaps, little one," she said, holding him close. "But only if the Good Prince wins."
Dean frowned.
"What happens to the prince that doesn't win?"
Mary breathed out slowly.
"He would…"
She faltered, thinking. She did not quite know what to say.
"I'm not sure," she said finally—and it was the truth.
Dean seemed more confident.
"Would he die?"
The question made Mary hesitate. He had asked her so easily, so definitely. Death did not scare Dean like she thought it would.
Mary said the only thing she could think of.
"I don't know."
Dean was not satisfied by this answer. He fidgeted in her arms, still with his hands enveloped around the amulet he wore on his neck. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"Did the brothers not love each other?" he asked.
Mary shook her head quickly.
"Oh, no, my darling, the brothers loved one another very much."
Dean was perplexed.
"But, Mommy, if they did, then why did they fight?"
Mary sighed, searching for an answer.
"I guess, little one, because it was in their destiny."
"What is destiny?"
"You can't see, or touch it," the young woman began, stroking Dean's hair, "but that doesn't mean it isn't there. Destiny guides us through our entire lives.
For instance, it was in my destiny to have you, little one."
The boy contemplated, trying to weigh the meaning of his mother's answer. He tried to understand, at first, but then, something in him didn't want to. He scowled.
"I don't care about destiny," he decided stubbornly. "If I had a baby brother, we'd never fight, not ever."
Mary smiled at her son. "You're a sweet boy," she said. And he was.
"Am I a prince, Mommy?" Dean asked, now looking up at her with his big green eyes.
"Of course you are," Mary said, hugging him, although her voice seemed sad now. Knowing. "You should go to sleep, little prince; I'll see you in the morning."
Dean smiled at his mother and turned over in his bed. Mary kissed his forehead and tucked him in.
By the time she had gotten up to turn his light off, Dean was already fast asleep.
Mary looked over at her sleeping child for a moment longer—wearing that same, sad look on her face.
"Goodnight, Dean," she whispered, and closed the door.