Chapter 8

The sun was just breaking over the distant hills when the castle came into sight. Lucorrian almost let out a wail of shock and fear. The walls of the castle and Kingdom were crumbling and up in fire; a dozen dragons or more circling the area. They were dive bombing the city from the menacing clouds. With a sharp kick from Lucian, the horse bolted forward, charging as fast as it could go.

It was utter and complete chaos when the two of them rode up. All of the citizens were running and screaming about, most of them lining the streets, dead, bloody and scorched corpses alike. The smell of burning fresh was overwhelming. "It's far too late for your spell little brother," Lucorrian said pointing to the stronghold. Lucian gasped in disbelief. The entirety of the front of the castle was blown off.

A shadowy figure suddenly appeared through the smoke of the castle rubble. "Hello son," she yelled in an icy tone. "It's been a lifetime since I saw you as a child!" It was the mistress, Lucian's mother, but now she had truly turned into the evil enchantress within her, clearly a master of the forgotten element of shapeshifting. She was cloaked in crimson red dragon skin with shades of black glitter. "The Queen is dead!" she yelled with a wicked laugh. "Long live... well, me." "...And me!" Denarha strode from the shadows, dressed in satin black robes, an evil smile flashing across her face. Lucorrian let out a small gasp. "Sister... h-how could you?" he shuttered. "Hmph. I simply joined the winning team. Killing dad was just a bonus," she responded in the most heartless way possible. The Mistress raised her arms and gestured to all around them. "This is all that's left of your cowardly father's legacy! He took my child from me, so I took the best of his to ruin what he loved most; this pathetic Kingdom and you, Lucorrian, his precious pureblood first born. Come my dear son Lucian, join us now...or die with your brother."

Lucian let out a low out of character primordial growl and then yelled in the most commanding tone than Lucorrian even thought him capable of. "His legacy lives on as long as me and him still stand! No matter of who you were to me then, we are going to end your rein, you...evil...witch...bitch." Lucorrian glanced over at him for just a second in complete unmannered surprise, he sounded an awful lot like the rare fun undiplomatic version of their father. Denarha and the Enchantress didn't react to his insult in the slightest, their eyes only reflecting the darknessness of their souls. The brothers unsheathed their swords, Lucorrian's coated in a blazing blue fire, and Lucian's shone as if it were made of the stars themselves. Taking this as a clear sign of a fight, Denarha strode forward and them the same, her hidden knight's chainmail clanking against itself and the understone of the pathway that had once led to the castle entrance. A purple shrouding mist surrounded her as she used the dark magic to summon her renowned two headed spear of carnage, now clearly imbued with incantations. And thus, they were thrust into battle. The Enchantress stood back and watched, not needing to get her own hands dirty.

Stroke for stroke for three days, the mighty weapons clashed with the thunderous might of war, neither of their beholders faltering. All manner of elements had been shot from one another. As the fourth day broke boldly on the horizon, the Mistress had begun to have enough; her amusement was turning into irritation. Her past mistakes were just unwilling to die. She screamed in blatant outrage, raised her hands to the blackened sky, now clear of dragons, she summoned a dark horde of unholy unmentionables from the mythical Netherlands with a continuous chant. The beasts burst from a black portal behind her. These horrid creatures were furless gray slime covered things. They ran like apes, but with six arms and huge tusks, black sludge dripping from their mouths. Denarha backed off on command, while Lucorrian gasped in fear. Lucian turned and ran as fast as he could, yelling at his brother to do the same. He had read of these creatures before. As the legend went, everything their slime touched, instantly turned to ash. The remaining rubble of the town disappeared in their wake. Lucorrian slashed out with his sword at the gnarly Hell spawns, the unlucky ones' blood acidically burning the ground. He spun around at the sudden ear splitting screech from Lucian. He hadn't been fast enough, the creatures swarming over his flailing body. They smelt the scent of Lucorrian's fear and wailed on him before he could recover from the emotional shock. One of unusual stature sank its yellow fangs into his shoulder and dug in deep, dragging him down to the ground. Letting out a screech of pain, he swung his sword in desperation, fatally missing, embedding his weapon in a mighty stone. More creatures piled on. This was the end, he thought. He could smell his own flesh burning from their bile. He could hear his father's voice calling him, to just relax and let go, but he just couldn't. The prince fought with everything he had left, but the searing pain slowly began to fade as he gasped his last breath and everything went silently blank.

The Enchantress had won and their sister would be forever marked as a traitor. The beasts had disintegrated the brothers for all time and were set free to ravage the rest of the innocent lands and people.

To this day, the young master's sword burns on in defiance, no one worthy of pulling it out of the stone. Some even say that in the late eve of a full moon, you can still see the spirits of the long forgotten brothers wandering about the ruins of their castle, forever cursed with the blood of the spilled innocents, looking for any shred of a chance to avenge them.