….
"Son, my boy, my boy-wait…please wait!"
The king ran after the prince after recovering from the shock that buzzed in the king's ear like thunder. The king looked distressed, he resembled someone who had feared for the life of another-in a sense it is actually quite accurate. The king knew, personally. The dangers that lay dormant inside the great barrier, the king was not afraid of anything that he had knowledge of, be it orc, dragon, elves-he will gladly chop their heads off without mercy…but the great barrier was different.
What makes the great barrier so influential, that every -would be adventurer spread stories about it, is because of its, Mystery. Is it a gateway to hell, a gateway to heaven-no one is certain, because to all who enter are never seen again, taken out of existence-just like that…they vanish. People who look at the positive side of the coin would think that it was such a wonderland that they do not wish to leave while the other side would think that they are kept prisoners there. Some say that the great barrier is the entrance to the mouth of a legendary demon who consumes its victims in order to grow stronger…but all of these are just speculations, as previously stated there was never a single soul to venture out, no corpse has ever been found, and no sane man would ever wish to enter. Exactly, this is what makes the prince look like a mentally ill man to the eyes of his father and his citizens alike, basically a dead man walking, choosing the path that leads to his grave without hesitation, he walk to the cliff of his demise with eyes wide open.
"What is it father, was I not clear enough?" The prince clearly knew that his father had intended to stop him from venturing to his own death, it was understandable-after all a descent father would stop his son from putting a gun to his temple, wouldn't he.
"Are you crazy, what sort of training have you been doing to crack your skull open that wide?" The king said loudly in a booming voice that could move mountains and cause tremors. "Look, you know I'm seldom angry, my boy. But in the few times that I am it is because I am concerned for my country and my people. You know me better than anyone, my bo-my son…"
The king awaited his son's response, the prince, still stone faced and unfazed by both his angry and calm voice, it is true that the prince knew his father very well, all too well, unhealthily well. The prince whispered to his father to walk with him through the halls of the palace, the king accepted in a mere second but is still confused by the sudden action. They walked silently, the king had engaged conversation more than a single time but the prince often gestured him to maintain the area of silence, until the time is right. They reached the end of the hall where the balcony was, the balcony which overlooked all of demacia. Both king and prince looked throughout the tallest peak in all of demacia. They were like silent gods overlooking their people, and they were- in a sense that they were their rulers after all. The king noticed his son's gaze escape the view and towards him, the prince maintained his stone faced demeanor, which was odd because the view that gave the king a wide smile gave the prince nothing.
"Father…in this world a child inherits his father's last name, I find that quite pleasant-metaphorically it's like a torch that is given from those who was once a child and now a father that passes it on to his child who in the future will become a father…and the cycle continues-that is a gift. Your father may be a fisherman but it does not mean that you cannot be something greater, and when you are someone greater than your father, for example; if you become someone that makes people kneel before you by just a command-Well, you are still the son of a fisherman, you still hold his name-marked into your humanity…if you think about it like that, than it looks like they go both ways, as a gift and a curse-my point is will you be greater than the person who held that title before you? Be just the same or drop down a peg? All three paths, and still you bear the name, it will not go away…"
The prince said in a calm soothing voice, a voice that may soothe some and again bore another, but to the king it made him wide awake, he did not think that his son could talk like this, to hypnotize his father as he did now with his words.
"You know father, you named me: Jarvan Lightshield, not only did I have to bear your last name, which in itself remind people that we are royalty but you also marked me with the same name as yours, and the man before you, and the man before him. I am the 4th person to carry both your last and first name…do you not think that is kind of sad?" The prince asked the king which just stood silently and began to think for a worthy response.
"My son, it is not sad, I gave you the same name because that is, tradition. You see Jarvan the 1st was the one who build demacia from the ground up, his son, my father, Jarvan the 2nd was the one to improve and I, Jarvan the 3rdmaintains it. We have the same blood coursing through our veins. I gave you the same name because it was tradition, of course, but because I want you to be great, just like those before you." The king laughed at that last statement, meant to lighten the mood, the prince only gave a pity chuckle.
"Then you did not give me a coin, father. You gave me a shape with four sides. You see the coin has two sides, a positive side and a negative side. But this shape you gave me, it has a pair of positive and a pair of negative, what that means is, there is always a possibility that I would land both negatives at the same time, again I could also land both positives but shadows will always exist in light but there could always be darkness without light." The prince dictated maintaining his calm voice and unchanging demeanor.
"Father, anyone who does not bear the same name as his predecessor, will have a normal life, sure, there will be expectations because that child carries the last name of the man before him, but it is an expectation that is not reinforced; unlike mine-
"Just wait a second, my son. It is-
"It is what? A gift, in its entirety, from the bottom until the top the names you gave me is a hundred percent a gift? You can't be certain now can you? You expect me, to be greater? Of course why else would you give me the name of the kings which is greater than the last, it is a given that for every heir the people expects him to be equal if not greater than the one before him, but in truth, for every new ruler there is also a new bar that counts for the norm. If great grandfather was alive today and ruled with the same ideals he had before, he would be less than the bar, less than what people would count as the norm for rulers in this era. For his time he was a just ruler but if he ruled today with the same method…he wouldn't have the same results as he did in his own time."
"What does it have to do with anything, my son?" The king asked with a dumbfounded look on his face, clearly confused and how the conversation spiraled out of one topic to another.
"Forgive me, father…it was just nonsense…it is just that, will I be able to make a name for myself…I want people to think of Jarvan the 4th, me, when they hear the name Jarvan, anyway, you gave me the same name just because of tradition, I should not read into it deeper, because you did not intend for me to read into it deeper. It is not something that should be read into deeper, I was just being sure, silly me." The prince smiled at the king with a (fake) hundred watt smile which led to the king doing the same with a hardy laugh he pat his son on the shoulder.
In truth the prince could see the signs that his father was growing tired of his roundabout and nonsensical words, so the prince decided to stop…
"Jarvan…Jarvan…Jarvan…tell me, father. What comes to your mind when you hear that word?" The prince asked now looking at the hundreds of people living in the core of demacia.
"My father, of course, I always thought of myself as that name before but not now, not when I am called king, you will feel the same way too when the crown finally sits atop of your head, you will be a changed a man…"
"Will I still be prince Jarvan?"
"You will still be my son…King Jarvan…"
….
The silhouette of a heavy clad man could be seen darting towards the unknown that lay inside of the great barrier. He was not certain on what waited for him, on what creature produced the gruesome blood that dirtied the stream, he was not certain of anything-he was just running towards the unknown in the night, blindfolded and following his senses. Reckless, sloppy, just a few names the prince can call his sudden brazen act.
The night was cold, but the spirit, the will to murder, gave the prince a purpose, like strings controlling him, he felt nothing burdening him, nor holding him back. The prince followed and followed, focused on the stream that produced a mess of entrails and blood, as the prince got closer so did the strength of the stench and so did the severity of the gruesome bloodbath, what once was blood, now carried with it bones, flesh, hair-the prince no longer doubted it, his speculation was correct, what lies towards him is a massacre, one a normal person could not look back from…
But Jarvan the 4th is not a normal person…
The stream reached its end, hidden by a couple of rocks, which led to a thick forest which produced light only made possible with the use of fire, it was clear that there was some sort of madness which lies inside. The prince held his spear, this spear with a metal handle and a sharp blade made of some unknown demacian steel, forged by poppy, demacia's iron ambassador. It was crafted specifically for hunters intending to kill their prey with one strike, this was perfect, it fit his hand like a glove and the prince could feel the bloodthirsty weapon wanting, waiting to finally be used to end some lives.
His life depended on this weapon the prince held it tight, so tightly that it may have fused with his body. The prince charged with his spear pointed and battle ready, but what he had expected was different from what he saw…
As he hid in the bush he was presented with Naked men, old and young alike were drenched with blood, both from their own and from others beside them, they were piled up, merely like chips waiting to be eaten, it was if they were decorated with the body parts once inside them-their bones protruded from their skin and the blood which once flowed through them now dressed their pale skin like sauce, the people resembled those of captured fish in a net, they were in a state of limbo, in a state of life and death, they breathed heavily some expanding their lungs…which was outside their bodies and some trying their best to breathe but choking in blood whether it be theirs or their fellow companions, the prince was not certain. They were near a bonfire that crinkled and blazed, with a single person that presented the feast of piled up bodies like some sort of offering. The man had a hand, which gleamed in the moonlight, some sort of metallic claw.
And as the prince was examining the claw, it moved and clawed mercilessly on the hand which it belonged to, raking the eyes and clawing the throat, like plastic the throat was easily cut and the skin, merely strips of flesh which showed the inside of his throat his eyes bleeding, and his eyeballs sliced open like hard boiled ago, but what was inside was not food, for the prince anyway. The prince was becoming disgusted by this sick display, but then the man began to talk…
As the prince continued to be puzzled the man glowed, his eye sockets, his ears, and even his mouth producing a stunningly bright light of dark blue, like something that belonged not to this world. The prince covered his eyes with his forearm, shielding himself from the blinding light which came from the odd man. The spectacle stopped and what was left was a man covering his throat, limp on the floor trying to stop the bleeding. Just a second ago it was if he had felt no pain, but now it seems like the pain was all too real. The prince was puzzled once more, what exactly was happening.
The answer came, with the same blue glow, but now it was in the sky. The stars were merely pale dots compared to the blue flare which brightly shone, and brightly blazed on top of the sky. And then it happened…
A crack…
A crack in the sky…
Wood can be cracked, the earth itself could be cracked, metal, brick, iron-it could all be cracked, but the sky itself cannot, it is infinite, is it not? But the sky itself was cracking and then it shattered. Shards of the sky fell to the ground, it sounded like broken glass as it landed on the floor, breaking into even more pieces. The prince could not believe it the sky…was falling.
The once majestic sky which the prince had put his trust on was now falling, it fell and it was nothing stronger than a shard of glass. The prince looked above once more. He came faced to faced with a red as ruby, orb like eye which peered through the hole in the sky looked from below, like a god it looked at the display and closed its eyes, what followed was a bone tingling roar, which led to even more shards of the sky to fall down, as the prince looked once more he could see no more of the creature, but an obsidian ball falling…to the ground…
The prince ran as fast as he can to the opposite direction, a deafening fall could be heard as the meteor fell to the ground which followed a shockwave that launched the prince a few feet away. The prince picked himself up with a slight struggle-he picked himself up using his spear which he held tightly that even a shockwave of that majesty could not separate him from his weapon.
The prince could only watch as, the now pair of red eyes which was perched up above a second ago were now on the ground, as the dust settled it was clear that those eyes, which struck the prince with a mix of fear and amazement, had a body, its silhouette could be seen, large, monster like and definitely not human…
The prince did not call it a monster, an alien and not even an opponent…
The prince called this creature…a worthy challenge…