Whoa, hold up, this is a sequel to the Primordial Prince. I can't stop you from reading this (and I don't really want to) but there will be references and characters already introduced and developed that I don't intend on going into extreme detail to re-explain, and that you will certainly not get unless you've read my first story. Read on if you're truly a fiction mastermind and can simply figure out my entire first story through context clues, and leave a message for me to see if you got it right that'd be interesting to see. But please, go and read my first story anyways, I promise you it'll be good, it's got magic and danger and explosions, all sorts of good stuff.
For those of you who have read my first story and are returning because you liked my first story, you guys are freaking awesome and truly more patient than I am with my favorite writers. Anyways, I won't keep you long because I know how annoying long author's notes are, but I'd just like to say for the moment, I don't have more than a few chapters already written so I don't entirely know how I'm going to schedule chapters but whatever, I'll get it done. Anyways, please favorite, follow, and review. (It makes me write better AND faster!). Enjoy!
RWTalent
Prologue
Two guards strode through the corridors of a dark, damp dungeon-asylum. The only sources of light that illuminated the old, moss-covered flagstones that made up the halls were the occasional wall mounted flame lantern and whatever else people brought to light their way. The two guards in question carried with them a lit candle each that threw just enough light to make the shadows dance around them. Their garb was indistinguishable because they had to hunch over to protect their flames from the constant water dripping from the ceiling above them, seeping through the stones and the dirt above them from the seemingly endless storm that always raged above the keep.
As they walked, they passed numerous cells, closed off with a heavy iron door that had a small slot through which to give the prisoners food, and an even smaller window covered with bars to watch the people inside. The people in question were a mix-mash of all different types of scum, ranging from crazy people who've tried to set the world on fire "for the kicks", to people who believed that they were gods and went around killing people they deemed "unworthy". That's why this place was built a mixture between a mental asylum and a prison, specifically for the criminally insane.
"So, what are you going to do once you've finished working here?" One of the guards asked his comrade.
"I'm getting as far away from here as I can. I'm thinking about moving up to Arendelle, I heard King James and Queen Elsa are fair and kind as rulers. Plus, with all the heroes running around up there, the crime rate has to be at an all-time low. What about you?"
"Huh. I never really thought about that. I was actually planning on going to Corona, I think the current king and queen are great, and Princess Repunzel and Prince Eugene are going to make a great royal family when the time comes."
Their light-hearted conversation was cut short by a dull thwump and a feeling like a huge pillow smacking them both head on, sure signs of a concussion explosion from inside the keep. The two guards shot looks at each other, nodded, drew their swords and quickly made their way to where the explosion originated.
Further down the hallway, where the explosion took place, all the dirt on the floor had been flung everywhere, a large dry semicircle was in front of a door, both having been blasted away. The door in question was bulging out of the doorframe, still in place, but something had obviously bent it horribly out of shape. The guards, knowing that their job was to make sure the inhabitants were both detained and safe, moved to enter the cell.
One of them ran their sword in between the edge of the door and the doorframe and used it as a level to pry the door the rest of the way out. The other guard stood next to him, sword at the ready prepared to defend them both from a psychotic inmate. But nothing came at them.
With the door finally out of the way, the guards carefully made their way into the cell, ready to protect themselves at a moment's notice. The cell was like all the other cells in that it was a horrible place to keep someone, the asylum had recently had budget cuts due to the nation's failing economy, resulting in subpar standards of living.
The cell, like all the others, was dark, no source of light was placed in the cell, and the only light that came in was from outside sources. There wasn't even a window present, that part of the place was underground, specially designed for the worst of the worst. There wasn't a bed in there, instead a small mound of old straw lay pitifully in a corner of the room. There was no extra blanket or cloth given to the inhabitants, besides the standard clothes, in fear of what they might do with it, whether attacking guards or hanging themselves. As with the rest of the underground portion, the cell was damp from the water seeping through the ceiling. What differentiated this cell from all the others was what its inhabitant had placed on the floor.
In the center of the floor, which was somehow kept amazingly clean, were sickening drawings. A rusty, reddish-brown circle was drawn, and a pentagram was drawn in the same place. However, one of the guards who had once upon a time taken to researching all kinds of magic noticed, the points of it reached past the confines of the circle, symbolically meaning magic beyond human control, anarchical magic used for violence and destruction. Above the drawings was a sickeningly blood red haze that floated just above the floor, undulating and twisting. The center of the star was a deep darkness, seeming to reach down into hell itself.
The guards stepped closer to investigate, peering closely at the floor drawings. They were horrified when they figured out that it was drawn in drying blood. Unnerved, they lowered their weapons slightly. Just as they did so, the door slammed shut behind them with an ominous boom. The inmate, a tall man, covered from head to toe in dirt and filth, stood there, smiling with teeth that were stained red. He wore the typical clothing of prisoners; simple pinstriped shirt and pants, no shoes.
"What do you think you're doing prisoner?" One of the guards demanded brandishing his sword at the man.
"Isn't it obvious?" the prisoner asked sadistically. His voice was impossibly smooth for someone who spent their time in the subterranean place, and very deep. "Tell me good sirs, is it true what they say about the Primordial King in Arendelle? A James Alexander?"
"Stay back!" they called as the man slowly, churlishly approached, still with his horrible smile. It was then they noticed that unlike the rest of the prisoners he wasn't emaciated, he was actually well built and toned. And the man towered freakishly over the two guards.
The mad man smiled even more, "You know, I'd very much like to meet with this...remarkable man - Primordial - whatever."
The man lifted a hand and pointed a crooked finger at the guards. A lightning bolt of red energy shot from his unclipped fingernail and ripped sickeningly through one of them. Then, the man flicked his entire hand to the side, throwing the other guard across the cell and smashed him into the wall with a wet-sounding crack. The guard slid down to the floor, and lay there in a crumpled mess.
Satisfied with his work, the man slowly stooped down and picked up one of the candles. When he lifted it up to head level it revealed his face. It could be seen as attractive, but not twisted and cruel like it was. His eyes were piercingly green, but looked like a deadly magical potion or very polluted water. His checks were thin enough to reveal sharp cheek bones and a clear jaw-line. His ragged, unwashed hair, reached down an inch or two below his shoulders. And that his hair, if it wasn't covered in so much filth, was stark, bleached white.
The guard who had been thrown against the wall, managed to force his head to look at the man and rasped, "How...how did you hear about King James? No one is allowed in."
The man laughed cruelly, facing the fallen guard. "You haven't guessed? I've got magic as my play-thing. I guess you could say a little bird told me."
The man, with a hand-gesture, ripped the clothes and armor off of the already dead guard and magically placed it on his body, resizing it and everything. The flame of the candle he held turned blood red. With another horrible cackling laugh, the man swept around and through the broken and unlocked door.
As he walked through the halls, the other inmates in the cells he passed collapsed, their eyes rolled back into their heads and foam building at the corner of their mouths. With a final laugh and a flash of blood red light, the man disappeared from the hall, leaving behind only dead guards, dying prisoners, and a general iron taste in the air.