The smell of smoke and blood hung in the air.
Princess Elara Deythar flattened her body against the marble pillar and another tremor shook the walls of the palace. Tapestries, once proud emblems of her father's rule, burned in tatters, their silken edges curving in the fire that devoured everything she'd ever known. Servant's shrieks were ringing through the hall way; and boots now clambered outside.
The coup had come like lightning. Cold, unrelenting, inescapable.
Elara's hands shook as she gripped the jeweled dagger her brother had shoved into her hand just one hour before, eyes burning with his last order. Run. Now somewhere in that inferno his body lay, and with it the bodies of her father and mother. The last thing she wanted to think about was what it must have been like for them at the end.
She forced her numb legs to carry her as she stumbled through the dense smoke toward a hidden path for servants behind the throne dais. Her breath was caught in her chest as she struggled to breathe, feeling a devastating fire in her lungs with every breath. Behind her in the grand hall roared flames, coin with the clash of steel loyalists yet fighting, though she knew they could not win.
The crown of Eldoria had already burned to ashes.
"Elara!"
She heard a voice scream her name through the chaos, a familiar murmur that yanked at her heart strings. She looked to find Seren, her childhood friend, blackened with soot and clinging to her gown's skirts. Tears left trails on her dirty, dusty face.
"We have to go," Seren shouted.
Elara grasped her hand tightly. "The passage, hurry!"
They entered a narrow corridor, the walls chilled their heat-seared skin. But there were no guarantees even here, shadows moved ahead and the light of torches played on metal.
"Search every room!" a soldier commanded sharply. "The princess should not live to flee."
Seren's grip on Elara was so tight it should have been painful.
Panic rose like bile in Elara's throat but she forced it down. I am Deythar blood. I will not fall here.
Armored figures passed, blades flashing ominously and they ducked into a side alcove. Elara's heart was pounding from her throat while she held her breath to allow their steps die down.
Seren trembled beside her. "They'll find us… They will"
"Shut up," Elara hissed, fear pressing against her ribs but she forced strength in her voice. She had to be stronger. For Seren, for their kingdom, for her family.
They began to advance further into the dark stairwells strewn with garbage, with stones cracking under the intense heat above them. At last, they rushed out into the chill night air beyond the gardens only to find no solace; a foreboding crimson light stained half of sky where Eldoria's heart, the castle, lay in rubble.
Elara nearly fell to the ground; this was all that was left for her to take possession of: dust.
There was a whisper from years before when the priests muttered about and old prophecy in temple vaults; A child will rise from ashes; to crown or to consume. Fire alone will tell.
Was this what they foretold? Was she born to destroy Eldoria… or save it?
"Over there!" a soldier yelled suddenly.
Torches flared up in the garden surrounding them. They were discovered.
And Seren whimpered and clung to Elara's sleeve. "We can't outrun them."
Elara lifted the trembling weight of the dagger in her hand. "Then I'll fight with my last breath." She said.
Before she had finished speaking, a figure stepped forward from the shadows, a tall man in burned black armor holding an ethereal blade of flickering silver flame. He dropped two of the soldiers with elegant speed, and some of the others faltered for a split second before darting into the smoke filled mayhem.
Elara froze as the adrenaline roared through every single strand in her body; and he looked over at them, pulling his hood back to reveal the dark hair that framed a sharp, storm-grey eyed face that was staring right through her. Silence caressed around them both for some seconds.
"You shouldn't be here Princess," he said quietly but firmly like the rest of the world around them were not crumbling.
"I am," Elara paused, grasping the hilt of her dagger professionally, and glancing at him with uncertainty "Who are you?"
"Someone who wants you to be safe."
"And y'don't expect me to believe that, do you now?"
He glanced back at the building behind him with a determination that straightened his shoulders further and answered, "Because every enemy you have ever fought is coming for you tonight, and I stand as your only defense against being turned to ashes."
Another shudder passed through the ground below them and towers crumpled up amidst a burst of bright sparks lighting darkness that threatened to fill everything again… Seren clutched Elara's arm, whispering urgently: "We must go with him."
Every instinct in her shrieked at trusting this stranger, but he moved like death made flesh, too well-rehearsed, his calm too measured to be a coincidence. Ally or predator? She roared. The dagger felt small and useless in her hands.
"Make a decision fast, Princess," he stepped a little closer to her, goading urgency within words spoken softly but so loud... "Hounds already baying at thine heels."
And of course, echoes of hunting horns rose from a distance, sharp and merciless.
Elara's breath caught. She had just little or no time to hesitate.
As she opened her mouth to speak, a new shadow moved in the garden, an even more taller figure. He drew closer to them, his eyes glinting with cruel delight.
"Ahhn…" drawled the newcomer, lifting his blade. "The lost princess handed to me in a silver platter."
Elara's heartbeat pounded in her ears. One heartbeat was all she had to choose between the salvation offered by a stranger, and the death promised by a noble.