Capter 65: The Whispering Wind
I have been standing on the balcony since I couldn't dare to step back into my bedroom. I had the feeling that someone was watching me wherever I went, an intruder that was slowly creeping into the depths of my home. I gripped the railing on the balcony and stared down the cobalt sky illuminated by stars, my heart rate quickening.
I could barely hear the whispers of the night wind through the trees as I trudged slowly through the dark. The only light came from the stars that glimmered above, barely lending any illumination to the eerie darkness below. Suddenly, a voice - a voice I did not recognize - cut through the darkness, chillingly cold and laced with malice.
"We're here to kill you, young prince malachai," the voice said.
My heart stopped for a moment, and he froze in place. I frantically scanned the darkness for any sign of danger, sweat dripping down his forehead and a chill in his chest. Taking a deep, trembling breath, I stepped forward, determined to face my fate, whatever it may be.
Suddenly, five figures emerged from the shadows, the stars glinting off their black cloaks. The tallest of the five, bearing a lion insignia on his cloak, spoke with an overpowering voice. Now I knew the truth – they were the hired assassins sent by his own father, the dark king, for he had planned on joining the rebellion against his rule.
"We were ordered by the king to terminate any who stand in his way, and that includes you," he said coldly, as with one hand he drew a sword and with the other an ebony shield.
The other assassins stood silently on either side, ready to attack at any moment, their knives gleaming menacingly in the night. My heart hammered in his chest as he faced them, knowing what he must do. With trembling hands, I raised his knife and prepared for battle.
The night seemed to stretch out forever, the suspense mounting with each passing second. What would be the outcome of this confrontation?
The assassins wore cloaks of black to make themselves unremarkable - and hide their identities. But I had learned their names as they surrounded me: Darius, the hulking giant; Gavin, the skilled swordsman; Elias, the fast and silent one; Marek, the diabolical agent; and Landon, the wily witch hunter.
My hands clawed desperately for something to use as a weapon as I fought for my life. Elias lunged at me with a dagger, and I narrowly escaped by ducking to the side and pushing him away. Gavin attacked with a sword, thrusting high and then low. I parried with a chair, smashing it over his head with all my strength.
Darius and Marek joined forces, coming at me with daggers in both hands. I managed to stay out of reach by staying on the move, but I could feel a deep cut on my arm and the blood was streaming down my shirt.
Landon lunged forward with a metal staff, but this time I was prepared. I grabbed the staff with both hands, shouting out a battle cry as I whirled around and used the staff to bash both Marek and Elias on either side.
Finally, I managed to drive the assassins away. I limped into the shadows of the forest, my wounds still bleeding, knowing one thing for certain in my heart: I had won this battle – but the bigger fight was just beginning.
The dark king, my father, had sent his assassins after me, and I was determined to join the rebellion against him. I felt something in my blood – a determination, a strength, a power that I refused to let go.
I ran until I came to a small cabin in the forest. The door opened, and a young man stepped outside, his eyes widened with surprise at the sight of me. He welcomed me inside and treated my wounds as I told him my story.