“Mom? Where are we going?! The citadel is in chaos, the need us!”
“Lucia, in another moment, my dear. Be patient and you’ll know… For now, don’t ask anything, don’t spill a word and avoid calling attention to us. You must only care about walking as fast as possible, ok?”
I agreed, silently
In a situation where chaos lives within the very hearts of people, we have the tendency to accept any help that comes from a wiser and well intentioned person. In this moment, my own mother was that helper. Her curly hair, old copper colored, swung wildly, dnacing with the cutting wind. Her grayish eyes, shining with the green hill - on which we were almost rolling our way down, by the way - were full of fear. What was going on?
I am Lucia Macbeth, 15 years old and a girl that took after my mom almost everything, except the facts that I’m way paler, thinner and curious, just like my father, John. Because of my appearance, I’ve often been called as the “Porcelain Doll” by the citizens of Winderlot.
In the prosper lands of Hallen, a small continent by the south, the kingdom of Winderlot stands, side by side with the neighbor kingdoms of Neona, Priestard and Estela. Was on Winderlot that I was born and it’s from there that I am running now, with no idea of the situation if not by two things:
Your majesty, the king, is probably fighting bravely, leading his army in this exact moment. He is a born knight.
Your majesty, the queen, renowned mage, is running away while dragging her daughter and contradicting everything she once has taught the young one about battles.
Keeping my head low, I kept feeding every hope about my father’s health and state, while being guided through the wood right after the hills. A cold shiver went down my spine with each bad feeling the fear brought up my subconscious mind, but I wasn’t allowed to let a single sound out, I was not allowed to show my reluctance. The scenario kept the same for so long that I no longer knew where we were and started to doubt if even my mom knew in the moment the dense grove suddenly changed into a small meadow, full of flowers. In the center, a millenary imposing tree surrounded by little bushes.
“Wait here” were the first words my mom said since the short lecture. She studied the old plant, walking around it until she apparently found something of her interest. “hmmmm…”
Not without a bit of effort, she pulled a secret lever hidden by a bunch of old roots and leaves. Metallic clicks were heard everywhere underneath us and a chunk of dirt rose from the land, revealing a long marble stairway, clearly castigated by time. A single sentence was notched to the first step: Bright and Serene.
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