Prologue

Screams pierced the silent grounds. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, but the onlookers didn’t seem to notice. They were transfixed on the scene before them. The eyes of some were filled with amusement, others with grief, and yet others with absolute nothingness.

Unconcerned with their audience, the flames danced gleefully around their victims. They rose and fell in happy flickers, gently licking their victim as they passed. Little by little, they ate away at flesh.

As the flames began to fall and they neared the end of their dance, the screams died down. The scent of burnt flesh grew stronger still, and even the most content of spectator couldn’t help acknowledging it.

But high above the execution grounds, one man remained completely unfazed. Adorned by extravagant red robes, his face remained completely expressionless. However, when the boy beside him looked up, he could sense a contorted amusement in his father’s eyes.

Allowing his own eyes to scan the execution grounds, the young prince watched as the charred bodies were carried away. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the Gods. A smile graced his lips and, when he again opened his eyes, they were glowing. For, at age five, Alistair had seen true justice served.

Written 11/1/08.

212 words.

212/50,000.