Prologue
'Stop!' the voice bellowed through the smoke, death and destruction towards the majestic dragon -whom currently was burning down the Kingdom of Idris.
'And, why should I, Robert?' The beast hissed at the King, who stood frozen in front of the colossal beast.
'I have a proposition.' he mumbled
'A proposal? Does your wife know of this?' The dragon jeered, laughing to herself.
'Yes, we have agreed, and so have the villagers.'
'Go on, I'm listening.'
'We will send a volunteer to you every ten years, if you stop attacking us. Please, I am begging you, please.' The King looked down, ashamed that he was stooping so low. The thing was, he had no choice. All the knights sent to kill the dragon had been slaughtered. It was impossible, so no one even tried.
'Fine.' The dragon agreed, she could do with a slave and some company, she thought to herself, 'Tomorrow, send someone and I will never set foot or wing in this morbid land again, that you have my promise. Oh, and do try to stop sending people to kill me, after the first hundred and fifty it got rather monotonous.' She called flapped her monstrous wings, 'Fail to do so and you had better run, fast.' She called as she disappeared into the night
'Any volunteers?' Robert called out to the crowd of villagers.
'Please, it really is an honour to our land. You will be a hero, a legend.' Maryse pleaded, this was hopeless, and no one is going to volunteer to go to their possible death just to save everyone else. The King and Queen were thinking of new tactics when the clear, soft voice rang out,
'I volunteer.'
Everyone looked around perplexed about who had said that, when the speaker moved towards the thrones. The Queen gasped, the familiarity of the person made her feel faint: she was looking at her own son.
'I'll go.' His sky blue eyes sparkled with unwavering courage, his stance was strong and defiant, his jaw held stubbornly. There was no changing his mind.
'Alec, No.' His mother whispered just as his father bellowed it.
'He is a volunteer.' Jia Penhallow spoke up.
'He is the only one we have, therefore he goes.' Michael Wayland agreed. Soon all of the villagers were murmuring in agreement, much to the Monarch's desperate attempt to get someone else to agree to go.
'I am going, end of.' The defiant thirteen-year old stated, seeing no way out of this his parents ran to him, hugging and sobbing. His three younger siblings – Jace, Isabelle and Max – joined into, all crying for him not to go. But alas, he had already volunteered.