BENEATH THE DISGUISE

Darkon's eyes now a deep shade of blue glimmered with fierce determination. His long silken white hair danced in the gentle evening breeze, a stark contrast to the darkness he exuded. The gentle breeze caressing his skin pulled him into a hollow of long thought.

He felt like a mere shadow of a man, his heart heavy with the burden of his losses. The horrors he witnessed left him with an indelible scar in his soul, an unending nightmare from which he finds it hard to awaken.

All he had witnessed was unthinkable, the essence of his life was torn apart when he could do nothing. His family– his beloved mother, sister and father were rasped from his grasp by the unrelenting anguish of war.

Every night he lies down to sleep, their scream still echoes in the hollow chamber of his dream, becoming a haunting melody of sorrow and despair. The unforgettable laughter of his little sister, the warmth of his mother's embrace– all lost in the cold embrace of death and greed.

His striking features illuminated as the cloud faded into darkness.

He was called Darkon– Darkon Brutus. However, no one knew his true identity accept the two who had made him survive. He was Darkon Luciano– the only demon who had survived the war between the kingdom of Horndragon and the kingdom of Demonda.

"Will I say the kingdom of Horndragon is a beautiful sight? One that holds the true meaning of power and authority. Or may I say instead, it harbours fear and dread– the smell of death?" He was distracted by the presence of a woman. She moved closer, standing beside him.

"You have waited for this time to come. The time to meet King Tristan Gibon once again and get back at him for all he had done to you." Her further statement only made the muscle in his hand clench as he felt the pain wash over him again. Then, a strained smile played at the corners of his lips, his way to conceal his grief.

The flags of the kingdom snapped in the breeze drawing his attention to reading the name carved in gold.

THE KINGDOM HORNDRAGON.

He stared at the letters, the designs shimmering in the moonlight. It was carved with precision and the dazzling luster of gold made them appear powerful.

The woman trailed her finger on his broad shoulder giving herself the thrill of pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"It will be a matter of time, my love, and everything we plan will come as we want it." She reached to plant a kiss on his neck but he was reaching for the bag beside him. He withdrew a wig and carefully arranged it to conceal his conspicuous white hair.

The transformation was striking, his appearance blended seamlessly with the darkness. As he wore his disguise, Darkon's eyes never left the kingdom's walls.

"Son, return to the carriage this instant. It is warm inside." His father called out to him.

"I will be there soon, Father," Darkon spoke, in a deep smoky, soothing voice. He kept surveying the imposing walls, his brows furrowing in concentration.

"Come, let's go, my love." The woman urged pulling him gently.

With a final adjustment to his wig, he returned to the carriage joining his father with the other men.

It was late November, close to the end of autumn.

The morning sun had cast a warm glow over the hills. They were three men and a woman seated in a gallant carriage and making their way along the winding dirt road covered with shaded leaves. They had sat in silence, their gazes fixed on the passing hillside. The gentle crackling of the carriage and the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves provided a soothing surrounding for their reverie as the leaves twirled in the air the moment their carriage galloped past over them.

Steadily the carriage crested the hill as days turned to nights. On the sky was the radiant display of stars accompanied by the symphony of the gentle breeze. The celestial light of the moon bathed the landscape in a soft ethereal glow.

As they made their journey, a few nights were passed seated around the crackling campfire, their faces gleaming in the warm flickering light as they broke bread together and discussed the plan for their journey.

Waking up to meet the birth of a new day, the air grew crisp and cool as they ventured farther towards the south.

After a six-day journey spending day and night away from the comfort of their humble aboard, at last, the distant high stone walls protected by stern-faced guards came into view.

At the declaration by his master who he had taken as his father, they discovered that they had arrived at the border of Horndragon. The others seated in the carriage had stuck their heads out to have a better view of the power and authority that lay beyond. It was there they sat and rested for the night again before they would enter the kingdom of Horndragon the morrow.

"Take this... A roasted crab. Is it not your favourite?" His father asked as Darkon returned in the carriage, prompting him to nod as he took the crab into his mouth. It crunched as he chewed on it, the fats dripping into his mouth as he savoured the smoky taste in silence.

"I caught the crabs at the mountainside," Father smiled at him, parting his shoulder in a fatherly love.

"I remember this was my wife's favourite too... Roasted– having a smoky taste." He regarded Darkon and said, "Ahh, but she's gone," He sniffled a laughter. "She's taken away in the cold hands of death by King Tristan Gibbon,"

Now his laughter turned into a cold chuckle until it brought moisture to his eyes. He added, "The mighty man of Horndragon." Saying this, the two fell into the wave of forced laughter.

The other two listening also found it amusing but beneath this pearl of laughter, lay deranged hearts that craved for revenge.

"Ohoo." His father hummed and rubbed his palms together in an attempt to get rid of the cold coming in through the open window. "I guess I should close the window."

Darkon regarded his father for a long moment as he drew the curtain close and shut the window.