Young Writers Society

Chapter 1

Diron

Isolt laughed as she watched her twin be disarmed and thrown onto his back again. Sir Erwin clearly wasn't intending to take it easy on him today. Chuckling again at the look of utter annoyance on Orion's face, she looked back down at her sketchbook. She'd finished her archery lesson an hour earlier and decided to sit by the water barrel on the training ground and wait for her brother to stop getting his ass kicked. It was a fun way to pass the time. Her bow, a short, tight-stringed reflex bow made of white Murdeth wood, rested against a quiver beside her. Fail-not, she'd named it. She spotted a group of squires waiting by the weapons' rack, presumably waiting for their knights' orders. Brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, she picked up her pencil and began to draw.

At 18, Isolt was undeniably beautiful. Her light blonde hair, which was cut just below her shoulders, seemed to shine in the midday sunlight. Her blue eyes had darkened slightly over the years, but they were still sharp and focused. Her skin was lightly tanned and her form, slim but strong, was clothed in a simple white blouse, brown tunic and trousers. She looked more like a page or stable girl than a princess, something she greatly enjoyed. Dresses had outlived their appeal long ago for her and she much prefered the freedom offered by male clothing. It made drawing a bow or running the length of the gardens far easier.

"You look invested." Looking up, Isolt smirked as she was met with familiar eyes and a bright red face.

"And you look like you've gone ten rounds with a bear." Orion let out a breathy laugh. She was right. His shirt, face and hair were soaked with sweat, causing the sandy locks to cling to his forehead. Sheathing Oathkeeper, he grabbed a goblet from beside the water barrel and sat on the rocks beside his sister.

"Always the jester dear." Isolt looked at him with a smile.

"I do try." She said, closing her sketchbook and placing it in her bag, "I hit the bull's eye with every shot today." She beamed. Orion dunked his cup in the barrel and smiled proudly at her.

"You'll be better than Ronan in a week at this rate." He looked at the water in his goblet, as if considering something, then, with all the grace of a baby deer on a frozen lake, dumped it over his head. The cold water ran down his back, causing a small shiver, but he instantly felt cooler for it. He heard Isolt snigger as he refilled and briefly considered throwing another goblet's worth at her before his eyes landed on Fail-not. She'd kill me before I even had a chance to run, he thought. Instead, he opted to take a long gulp, the soothing cold running down his throat. After another two cups, he stood up and offered Isolt a hand. "Come on, I need to change. Grandfather expects us in court in half an hour."

The two walked towards the castle, each recounting their own training session to the other. Every day was the same; wake up, have breakfast together, go to their respective lessons, which each ended with combat lessons, get changed, sit in on whatever meeting the King had that day, eat lunch and spend the rest of the day in the library. Today was no different. Orion dashed into his room, while Isolt waited outside, and quickly selected a clean shirt and trousers, before washing his face and getting dressed. Ten minutes later, he exited, looking and feeling decidedly more human than puddle, and followed Isolt to the Throne Room.

The castle was hundreds of years old: passed down from one descendant to the next, leaving little glimpses into the past. Stone pillars lined the walls, broken apart only by the small windows that looked out onto the capital city; Casterthane. Statues stood outside every room, eternal guardians to the inhabitants. Fat lot of good they were, thought Orion, bitterly. Some of the statues had been destroyed, broken remnants of feet or animals left on pedestals to remind them of that horrible day. Orion shook his head, forcing away the memories of screams, smashing stone and the smell of burnt books. Everything in the castle that had even a possible link to those monsters had been removed and destroyed. Quite rightly too.

As they approached the doors leading into the Throne Room, great Ashwood things that towered above them, they were met by a young woman in a faded pink dress, with long black hair and brown eyes. She smiled as they approached, "For a moment, I was honestly worried you'd be late." She wrapped her arms around Isolt in a quick embrace, then pulled away and pressed a kiss to Orion's cheek. The twins smiled at her.

"And risk Grandfather's wrath? No thank you." Said Orion, wrapping an arm around the woman's waist. Isolt pretended to gag as he pulled her in for a full kiss.

"No offence meant Flora, but could you not kiss my brother in front of me? It's really gross." The couple broke apart laughing, causing Isolt to mock glare at them. "What?!" She exclaimed, "I just don't appreciate seeing my brother stick his tongue into my friend's mouth!" Orion and Flora kept laughing, though Flora did pull away long enough to link arms with Isolt.

"Alright, for the duration of this silly court meeting, I promise not to kiss him."

"Do I get a say in this?" Asked Orion, smirking.

"No." Came the unanimous response. Orion laughed, before gesturing for the guard to open the door.

The Throne Room fell silent as the doors opened, revealing the heirs to the kingdom. Isolt and Orion held their heads high, backs straight, both of them radiating power. Gone were the smiles, replaced with stoic, yet confident expressions. Flora pulled back and walked behind them, taking her place with the rest of the court. On the black and gold throne sat King Ferris of House Luparis, the Third of his name. His hair almost fully grey and his formerly joyful eyes filled with a mix of pain and pride. The ghost of a smile formed on his wrinkled face as the Crown Prince and Princess knelt before him before they rose and took their seats beside him; Orion on the right, Isolt on the left.

The first two hours of court went exactly as they always did. Matters were brought to the King's attention and he decided if they were worth his time. Criminals who requested pleas or were bound to execution were brought before him to beg for mercy. It wasn't something that either twin enjoyed, but both accepted that it was part of being a ruler. Isolt watched her brother's face as a man stood before the King. He'd been accused of being a Shifter, and he was pleading to be freed. "I'm not one of them Sire!" He cried, "I swear to the gods, I have no power. Please Sire!"

"Explain then, how you came into possession of a Shifter's amulet." Ferris' voice was devoid of emotion, cold and calculating. It terrified Isolt.

"It was my wife's Sire, she died in the...in the Trials, Sire." The man fell to his knees, "I know I shouldn't have kept it Sire, but it was all I had!" His sobs bounced off of the walls, echoing in Isolt's ears. Ferris sighed and looked at the guard.

"Throw him into a cell for 2 months. And burn the amulet."

"No Sire, please, I beg of you..." Began the man, but the King simply held up his hand.

"If you wish to live, you will say no more." The man wept, but no words left his mouth as he was dragged away. Isolt felt her eyes sting. Why did he insist on even more pain? The Shifters were dead, why torment the ones they left behind?

As one of the ladies stepped forward, presumably to ask a favour for her father, the great doors swung open. Two guards with slightly haunted looks were stood there, a hunched figure being carried between them. The King rose from his seat, his face contorted with anger and annoyance.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" He spat, his voice rising to a yell. The guards exchanged a look before pulling the figure towards the royal trio.

"Forgive us, Sire." Said Sir Riddick, an older knight from the King's personal guard. He and the younger guard who Isolt didn't recognise half-dragged the figure through the hall and dropped it at the feet of the royals. "He's one of the border patrollers that went missing two weeks ago." The King shot up, towering over the figure.

"Explain." He demanded. Isolt leaned in slightly so as to see the figure properly. It was a man, or at least the shell of one. His skin, what could be seen of it under the dirt and blood, was deathly pale. His torn clothes hung off him and soaked in yet more blood. Looking up at the King, he gasped for breath before beginning.

"I- I am Leoris Gothin, Sire." A sense of hopelessness filled his voice, "I patrol the border with Diron." Isolt straightened in her seat. Diron was a warring kingdom. They'd invaded six different lands, tried to take Iyuna twice and failed both times. Surely their leader wasn't insane enough to try again. "They came for us Sire...at night. Killed the lookout they did. There were so many..." He paused, panting slightly, as though running, "They took us to the palace. Everyone-everyone else is dead Sire. He-he sent me to deliver a message to you."

"Who sent you?" Ferris boomed.

"King Surret." Said Leoris, as he held out shaking fist, a small leather strap tied to his wrist, attached to whatever he was holding. After a moment's hesitation, he dropped the thing onto the steps at the King's feet. A collective gasp erupted in the room as the small, wooden eagle landed on the ground. Isolt felt a chill run through her. "He says he's coming for Iyuna...and has Shifters."

This chapter is where I started needing feedback because I am not the best with dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed it and I'll post the next chapter when it's finished :)