PROLOGUE
Young Princess Naria was barely six months old when the Great Blaze burnt through her kingdom. One moment she was dreaming peacefully in her grand fur-lined cradle; the next, smoke was creeping towards her, its wispy fingers weaving through the bars of her bassinet before finally reaching her small sleeping face.
It was her screaming that broke the silence.
“Wha-what is it?” A young man, sleeping beside the baby, stirred under his thick blankets. The bed he slept in was grand and extravagant. Its tall birch frame stretched up to the ceiling while the wood showcased intricate designs of potions and healers, fittingly made for the King and Queen of Corlixir, the kingdom of medicine.
The man groaned at his daughter’s cry until he too inhaled a lungful of thick smoke.
“Fire!” He gasped, heaving the blankets away from the bed. Beside him, still asleep, the Queen twitched as her pale skin wasexposed to the chill of night. “Elowen!” The man grasped his wife’s shoulders, shaking her frantically.
She began to protest, pressing her face deeper into the sheets, but her annoyance vanished as the heavy stench of smoke reached her nose.
“Great Ancients,” she spluttered, forcing herself up and swinging a hand to her face. “What’s happening? Where are the guards?” She coughed so forcefully that it echoed off the walls of their palace bedroom.
“We have to go. Now,” the King ordered, throwing on a purple silk robe and tossing another to his wife. Elowen hurried to dress herself as she sprinted towards Naria’s bassinet. Her feet burned against the hot wooden floor, but she kept moving.
“Shh… Shh,” she hushed, wrapping Naria in as many blankets as she could find before lifting the bundle close to her chest. “Don’t cry, my angel. Mama’s here.”
Behind her, the King marched towards their bedroom door. His hand reached for the crystal handle, but the intense heat from the door forced his body to collapse backwards. Like a ragdoll, he fell to the scalding floor.
“Benedict!” the Queen cried, still grasping her daughter as she sprinted to his side.
“Stay away from the door!” he hissed, pushing himself up. “It’s too hot. The fire must be right outside.”
Elowen stifled a cry and smacked her hand to her mouth. “We’re trapped… Oh Great Ancients, save us.”
“Someone will come,” Benedict asserted, trying his best to remain calm. Rising up from the floor, he furrowed his brow. He’d only owned this bedchamber for two years, and there were no secret passages or hidden doors that he knew of. The only way out of this room was through a door that was red-hot, or through a window barely wide enough for a baby.
Determined, he strode towards the window. It was tall andnarrow, with a purple stained-glass pattern that depicted a woman holding an elixir. Along the way, he grabbed a thin iron vase from his bedside. It’d been a gift from another king and in truth he’d never liked it much, but at least now it would serve a purpose.
Without any hesitation, he hurled the vase at the stained glass. Immediately, the window shattered, the ear-splitting noise causing Elowen to scream. Thin shards of glass sliced Benedict’s cheek, but he stayed put, even as something wet rolled down his face. Blood or a tear? He wasn’t sure.
“It’s too high, Bennie, and we won’t fit.” Elowen rushed over to him, grasping his arm. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears from the smoke.
“We have to try,” he insisted as he drew closer to the window. With each step he took, glass crystals crunched beneath him, leaving a trail of red footprints.
Nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see.
Corlixir, his kingdom, his home, lay in ruins. Everywhere he looked, from the Great Libraries to the famous School of Healing, buildings were collapsing in the hungry flames. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Screams of terror echoed down the streets as his people scattered like leaves in a furious wind. Even the far villages were glowing an orange hue.
In that moment, a breath caught in his throat and it felt like time stood still. There he was, king of a kingdom that was falling to ashes. It was as though the Healing Ancients – the divine beings that formed this land so many centuries ago – had suddenly decided that Corlixir should just cease to exist.
The sound of quiet sobs and glass crunching beside him pulled him harshly back to the tower.
“It’s too high, Bennie,” Elowen repeated with another forceful cough. The King’s heavy gaze then fell from the burning city and to the grass far beneath the window. It was dizzyingly high – atleast a hundred foot drop. Even if he and Elowen could squeeze through the stone window opening, no amount of healing would save them after they hit the ground.
“Look!” Elowen gasped, pointing into the distance. Benedict’s heart leapt as he noticed movement through the thick trees of the dense forest that bordered their kingdom. He couldn’t quite make it out at first, but soon enough, around twenty riders on horseback burst through the treeline, galloping towards the palace.
“They’re soldiers from Drothmore, I see the crest,” he said, catching sight of the steel-grey cloth that flowed beneath their saddles – steel grey for metal, stone, and swords, Drothmore’s main trade.
Elowen used one arm to wave out of the window, the other still clutching Naria, who had quietened against her chest. “Up here! Help us!” she called desperately into the night air.
Leading the riders was a soldier in opulent, gold-decorated armour; his shoulders were broad and his form commanding. With urgency, he pointed towards the window from which Elowen was waving and ordered the other soldiers to follow.
“Thank the Ancients, that must be King Ikelos!” Elowen exclaimed. She waved again frantically out of the window.
“Benedict! Elowen!” called the leading soldier as his horse and the other riders neared the palace. “A messenger brought us news of a fire. We came as quickly as we could, and there are more soldiers on the way to evacuate your people.”
