Chapter 1-2: The Recurring Vision

A stained, curled sheet of parchment rests next to an inkwell and feather pen. Nearby, a set of candles melt wax on to a wooden table top. At this time, the audience would be asked to enter some information:

QUESTION 1: Please share your first name.

QUESTION 2: What is your age?

QUESTION 3: If fate conspired to birth you thus, would you be a Righteous King, or a Benevolent Queen?

The Reader answers these questions in a manner of their choosing.

NARRATION: Is this information true?

In this version of our story, the information written is: King Innocente Betthencourt, age 19. When the Reader verifies their entry, the light of the candle fades away, leaving only a wisp of smoke.

Then, we hear the sound of bells ringing from a distant tower...

- - -

The silhouettes of cathedrals, mansions, and castles rest on a hill overlooking a vast city. One evening, from a great height, it appears that half the buildings are being devoured by flames. Deep plumes of smoke glow red, then yellow, rising to feed a cloud of darkness. Nearby, a window slams shut.

A voice hears itself speak.

???: "These same buildings... Over and over... How long has it been since this dream began?"

Many footsteps, metal and leather slam across stone floors.

???: "Terrified people shout. Something about… locking and barring layers of doors... and yet…"

VOICE: "The entire Capitol is alight!"

A muffled shriek is heard from another room.

???: "Is this a dream? Or a memory?"

More bells are heard: Great and small, near and far, from every direction. Another door slams shut.

???: "Smoke pours into an enormous room made of marble. Shouting... crying.... I feel... immense pity. There is nowhere left to go... Unless..."

VOICE: "Break through the sacred tree!"

???: "Fires... Alarm bells... Shouting... Footsteps... Smoke... So much smoke..."

Gasps and shrieks are perforated by the sound of dense wood shattering under heavy axes.

???: "And then what? A hasty descent... Cannot seem to see anything..."

We hear a sudden, violent crunching above our heads.

???: "No... it didn't sound like that."

The tumult becomes louder, almost beyond endurance, as if the roof of our house is being pulled open by a Titan's hand.

???: "What... Is this not a dream? Is it really happening...?! What is that noise?!"