"But even the gods fell from the heavens."

•Chapter Two•

The Wolves of Birchwood Forest

I felt the confusion cross my face at the page's outburst. My eyes crossed the table, looking at each face individually. "Wolves? Wolves? What does the boy mean by wolves?" Pythor waves his hand at the guard standing next to the page before I could inquire what he meant.

"Take the boy outside now! He can wait there to deliver his message instead of interrupting our meeting with this nonsense!" Before I could interject, the guard roughly grabbed the page and pulled him out into the hall, closing the door with a heavy thud after him. I turned towards Pythor, trying to hide my anger and confusion.

"May I ask what that was all about, Sir Pythor?" I asked. Pythor waved away my comment as if it was an annoying insect.

"The boy was practically screeching insanity." He said in his comforting but unnerving tone.

"Pythor," said Nya, letting out a loud sound of discontent, "the boy isn't insane. Childish, maybe, but not insane." Pythor tilted his head, narrowing his already snake-like eyes.

"I do not follow, my dear." Pythor hissed.

"Sir, do they not have legends where you are from?" The Baron wondered aloud. Pythor smiled fondly.

"Ah, yes. As a child, I was particularly fond of one." He tapped his chin in overdramatic thought. "What was it called again? Ah, never the matter. I do recall it including a giant snake." I placed my palms down on the table and pushed in irritation, causing the wooden table to emit a loud crack.

"Excuse me, my lords and lady," I said loudly, calling attention to myself, "I regret being the odd one out, but what the hell are we talking about?" Dareth furrowed his eyebrows.

"Don't linger on it, your highness." Dareth said. "It's an old wives tale, meant to keep children busy searching for a fairytale." I leaned on my elbow, massaging my temple.

"Care to elaborate, Sir?" I asked. Nya leaned across the table on her forearms, the red velvet that made her skirt brushing heavily against the table legs.

"Have you never heard the legend of the Wolves of Birchwood Forest?" She asked me gently. All the sudden, Pythor yanked a dagger out from his belt and jammed the blade hard into the table.

"Enough!" He shouted, startling us even more than when he had practically massacred out table. We all stared at him in silence, watching his oddly colored eyes flit in anger. He took a deep breath, calming his next words. "This meeting is finished until we can focus ourselves enough to come to a decision."

"You have no right or place to decide that." Dareth said. "You are a guest, one we can refuse and send away at any time. I do not know what power you had in your land, but here," Dareth pointed over towards me, "he's the only one with the power." Pythor narrowed his eyes.

"Exactly." Pythor hissed. "Why are we entrusting the protection of the kingdom to this… boy."

"Because he is the next male in the bloodline, Sir Pythor." Said the Baron slowly, a hint of irritation on his face. "It's his birthright."

"Fine," said Pythor, "I assume the boy must be here," his snake-like eyes flitted towards the other side of the table, "but what about the girl?"

"What about her?" I cut in curtly. Pythor turned towards me.

"She's barely seen the change of fifteen." He laughed. "What use does she serve you?" Nya scrunched her nose, the anger showing in her eyes.

"Why you ill-breeding little…" She started walking towards Pythor, making the Baron step forward to stop her slow pounce.

"What if there was another way?" Said Dareth, who had resumed his seat at the table, his fingers crossed together. I could tell he was trying to get everyone calmly back on topic. Every eye in the room turned towards him. He looked up at all of us, disgust and regret in his eyes. "What if there was a way to win without losing any more men? Without fighting at all?" Pythor ran his thin tongue over his lips.

"How?" He asked slowly.

"Well," Dareth started, his brown eyes flitting over towards me, "Lloyd is almost 17. If we covered it up well, told a small white lie, we could tell the kingdom that he was actually turning 21."

"What are you saying, my lord?" Asked the Baron.

"He's saying that we could coronate Lloyd as king." Nya said from behind the Baron's outstretched arm. She shook her head slowly. "Then, the lands that the Overland is on would belong to Lloyd, and then the other kingdom's that have been refusing to help…" she swallowed, "would have to help him regain his kingdom by law."

"What?" I asked loudly. "No! I refuse!"

"My dear boy, it is the only option we have that follows your wish not to let anyone die." Dr. Julien said kindly. I looked down, swallowing tightly.

"If we go through with that plan, my father would be accused of treason, my mother as well." I swallowed again. "They would be hanged."

"A small price to pay for the protection of your kingdom." Pythor said, his voice condescending.

"I've already spoken to Misako, and she agrees that this is for the best." Dareth said quietly. I took a shaky breath.

"What about the plan?" I asked. "What about the party of five trekking through the mountain?"

"Oh, Lloyd," Nya sighed, "I hate to say it, but the page was right. We would need a miracle." She smiled. "And I don't believe in fairytales anymore." I heard a sigh across the room.

"All in favor of the coronation, say aye." I ran my tongue over my dry lips as I watched every hand in the small room raised into the air, including Pythor. Slowly, but definitely there. Every eye fell towards the map on the table to avoid mine as they all began to file out. The Baron patted me on the shoulder and Nya ran her hand down my arm, both motions meant to reassure me. The room, once filled with shuffling footsteps was now silent, with the exception of the door hinges as they inched shut. I didn't look as I heard someone stop the door, only stared at the map, Pythor's blade still suck in it.

"Your coronation will take place in two days, on the eve of the first day of spring." I heard Dareth say. "I'm so sorry, Lloyd." And the door shut with a loud click, leaving me leaning against the edge of the table, studying the map. My eyes flitted over towards the mountain pass, the only blind spot in my soon to be kingdom. Then, I found myself wondering over to the only dark area on the map, shaded in with hand-drawn trees. Birchwood Forest.

I pressed my tongue against my cheek as I reached over and removed the blade with a grunt, lifting the heavy end of the map as I began to cut.

•••

"I apologize to have bothered you." I said as I watched the older man shuffle around with a tray of tea. "I didn't realize the meeting would run all day, nor did I know it was this late."

"Not a problem, my dear boy." The man turned around, the tray shaking violently in his hands as he sat down at the small table across from me. He gently removed a cup and set it down in front of me, standing up again to pour the tea. "I'm afraid the tea is a bit cold." He attempted to pour the tea with his shaking hands before I removed it from him gently, pouring the tea for both of us. "Thank you." He said as he sat back down, causing the small candle that lit the room to wobble and shake. "That lovely native servant girl brought it to me, what a kind lass." I smiled, nodding in agreement. "Now," he started, getting more comfortable in his wooden chair, "what can an old bard do for the prince at this hour?" I swallowed a bit of cold tea before setting it down and leaning forward on the table.

"I didn't know who else to come to Bard Brookestone." I started. The Bard set down his cup.

"Please," he said, waving his hand in the air, "call me Lou." I smiled, but it soon disappeared. I took a deep breath.

"Can you tell me the legend of the Wolves of Birchwood Forest?" The Bard stared at me for a second before a small smile began to play on his face. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

"Well that," The Bard says with a laugh as he stood up and crossed the room to his bookshelf, "that is a story I haven't been asked to tell in a long time." He began to run his fingers over the spines of old books, coughing slightly at the dust it produced. "It's actually one of the harder ones to tell." I set my teacup down and hastily stood up.

"If it's any bother at all I'd be happy to return in the morning." I said, making my way towards the door. The Bard turned towards me and made a downward motion.

"Sit down, boy." He snapped at me as he returned, a small, weathered box in his hand. Sitting down heavily, I suddenly remembered that The Bard had hurt his leg in our escape, and should be walking with a cane.

"Lou, where is your cane? You know the doctor said that the stress fracture could escalate into a full blown break if…" Lou held up his hand to silence me.

"You will make a great king someday. Remembering each of our injuries, trying to make it seem like it's all going to be okay. Like our world isn't falling to pieces around us." He smiled at me. "You still believe in miracles, even when the children stopped." I felt the focus in my eyes get sharper, an odd sensation, as though the green was getting brighter.

"That is why I came to you, why I need to hear this story. I need to stop believing." I said, making the candle flicker with my breath. The Bard frowned.

"Why would you give up the last bit of hope this kingdom has?" He asked. I took a deep breath.

"Because I need to start creating." I said quietly. The Bard furrowed his thick eyebrows, but not before a small smirk danced across his lips like a ghost, disappearing before you had time to realize it was there. I took another sip of my tea before gesturing towards the small box in his hands. "Now, if you don't mind?"

"Oh!" The Bard explained, popping open the seal and shaking a deck of worn playing cards onto his outstretched hand. He immediately began to shuffle them with expert fingers, eyes on me. "But before I can tell you that story, I have to tell you this one." His fingers stopped, and he fanned the shuffled cards out on the table in front of him, his dark eyes scanning them. "Once," The Bard started, removing a card from the fan and setting it down in front of me, "there was a wise and noble king, who believed he could raise a kingdom from the energy of the natural world." I studied the card, the king of diamonds as The Bard removed four more cards, laying them out, two on either side of the original.

"He wanted it to have the stability of the earth below him." Ace of Spades. "Strength of the raging storm." Ace of Clubs. "Serenity of the morning frost." Ace of Diamonds. "And the power of the spreading fire." Ace of Hearts. The Bard's eyes glanced up at me, ensuring that I was still paying attention. "The king gathered all this power and created himself a beautiful kingdom, and locked the power up tightly, so that it could never be used for evil, power too great for one man." He carefully stacked the aces under the original King of Diamonds.

"As time passed, the king knew he would have to produce an heir to take over the kingdom and protection of the power, as he was aging." He removed two more cards, laying them beside one another, below the King of Diamonds, closer to me. The Jacks of Spades and Clubs. "Two sons, who the king loved dearly." The Bard scanned his cards again, but didn't remove any of them. "One son," he said, tapping the Jack of Spades, "the oldest, was more susceptible to darkness, while the youngest," pressing the other finger against the Jack of Clubs, "more susceptible to the light. Bonded by blood, separated by balance." Lou took a breath.

"Knowing that he soon had to pick an heir, the king decided to start siphoning the power he had long kept locked away into his two sons." He picked up the King of Diamonds and removed the Aces. "The power of the storm and fire to his oldest." Lou said, placing the Aces of Spades and Clubs under the Jack of Spades. "The power of the frost and stone to his youngest." Aces of Hearts and Diamonds under the Jack of Clubs. "But the king soon realized his mistake, as his youngest, the child with the most stability in his power, began to stop connecting with the human world, more with the spirits, until he was almost lost." The Bard's eyes flicked towards the Jack of Spades. "While the oldest, the most rampant power in him, began to lay siege to his kingdom, burning the village and hurting the citizens as if in a game." Lou licked his lips. "The king tried to siphon the power back out of them, but there was already too much. His only hope was that a strong enough emotion could cause the power to uproot itself." The Bard removed another card. "And he soon got his wish, but not in the way he wanted." In the middle, underneath the two Jacks, he laid down the Queen of Hearts.

"Both of his sons fell in love with the same woman, and in turn, she fell in love with both of them." He laid the Three of Hearts in the middle of all three cards. "The brothers, now banished of their power, once again separated by only the balance, began to fight, both hoping to win the favor of the fair maiden." Lou laid the Two of Clubs down horizontally between the two Jacks, so that each end was touching a Jack. He then proceeded to remove all the Aces, then pick up the King of Diamonds. "But the king had grown ill, aging even quicker with their fighting. He knew he had to make a decision, but he couldn't choose one. He didn't know which son was worthy." Lou slowly began to put the card back into the fan as he stacked the unused cards. "And on his deathbed, he made a decision. His oldest son was to receive the kingdom, as well as the maiden." He stacked The Queen of Hearts on the Jack of Spades, then returned them to the pile. "But the youngest, the youngest received the power, and the moment his brother was crowned, disappeared into the forest with it." Stacking together the remainder of cards, he gently returned them to their box, then set them aside. I blinked twice, looking at The Bard after being fully enthralled in the cards.

"That's the story of the Wolves of Birchwood Forest?" I asked quietly, mind still wrapping around the story I just heard. I felt almost as if I had heard it before.

"No." Replied The Bard. "That is the story called the Princes of Ace. It's been around for nearly 75 years." He adjusted himself in his chair. "The story I'm about to tell you, surfaced in the last five years. It was popular the first year it was established, but it soon faded." I sat up straighter, showing that I was quite interested and attentive now. Lou laughed. "All right, all right. About five years ago, a boy came running down from the hills, crying wolf." Lou waved his hands around in the air. "The boy claimed that four men had come into his flock of sheep, and offered to stay and help for a few days in exchange for a place to sleep. The boy's parents had gone on a trip to another kingdom, so the boy saw no problem with it. He said that while they were tending the sheep one day, they began to tell him the story of the Prince of Aces, but it began to expand past the usual ending." He said as the sun began to set in the hill, the men began to retreat back into the forest, claiming that as they walked, they began to change." The Bard smiled. "The story I'm about to tell you is the one the boy told the village the next day." He took a deep breath.

"When the youngest son fled to the forest of that fateful day, it wasn't only the power he carried with him. He had also stolen a very rare book from his Father's library, a book on powerful magic." The Bard paused. "After he saw what the power, even at two at a time, had done to him and his brother, he cast a powerful charm, which imprisoned each element of the power into a crystal amulet." Lou began to wring his hands. "The charm allowed the power to be used by someone worthy of it. Using another magic spell, he sent the amulets out, looking for their perfect hosts." Lou smiled.

"The first amulet, the power of the stone, found its host in a young mistreated boy, forced to perform in a traveling entertainer's tent. The second, the power of the storm, a boy from a jungle tribe, high within the mountains where people flew like birds. The third, the power of the frost, in a boy that was considered the god of village of ice people. The fourth, the power of the fire, a runaway from a village on the side of the mountain." The Bard paused again. "The power drew them all back to Birchwood Forest, back to the younger brother, who taught them all how to wield their power, how to use it for good instead of evil." Lou's eyes suddenly got really out of focus.

"They learned during the warm summer months, the sweat on their backs a constant reminder of the heat, but the moment the first chilled breeze of the autumn came through, they learned of the man's secret curse. Placed upon the wearer of the amulet, the younger brother still believed that one fourth was too much. He cursed them, walking in the warmth as human, in the cold as creatures of the forest. As wolves of a most vicious kind." The Bard stood up and picked up the candle, gently guiding me towards the door. "After the Autumnal Equinox, beast of the wilderness. After the Vernal Equinox, children of Adam." He opened the door for me as I stepped out, still lost in thought. The door clicked shut as I stood out in the hall.

"Two days until my coronation." I mumbled to myself. "Two days until the first day of spring." I paused. "Two days to find the wolves."

•••