Young Writers Society

Prologue

"Mallar," the King demanded. He sat cross-legged on his throne of pure gold. It shimmered lightly as moonlight peeped in through enormous windows.

Slow, shrill footsteps penetrated the hall, each laborious step followed by a vast echo. Through unnecessarily giant doors appeared an old chap. His blue robes hung down a crooked back, a comedic cone hat hiding the mass of his white hair, but not his long white beard. Wrinkled hands clutched a glowing staff. The King and his servant watched as he made his way, slowly, painfully, in noisy breaths, to beneath the King's throne. With a voice shaky and hoarse, he said when ready, "Yes, my Lord?"

The King gleamed into the magician's wise, unusually youthful eyes. "I apologize for delaying you rest, my dearest Mallar, but I need you longer. Just a while longer," the King said. His voice, however authoritative, had leaked a certain sympathy for the archaic fellow.

Mallar looked down in disappointment, but when he realized it showed clearly in the glossy marble tiles, he hid it and replaced it with a warm smile to the King. "Very well, my Lord. Shall we?"

The King held the old fellow up the steps on his throne. Just like old times, he thought. Knowing his lifelong friend was going for the eternal rest soon saddened him, but the choice was not his to make. "How long can you hold it?"

Mallar made a long groan after the last step and sighed, age showing in his trembling words. "Only...only for a few moments at a time...I'm sorry my Lord..."

After steadying his old friend he sat straight up in his throne. "Don't be. I shall see what the traitor says after this," he said, a vicious scowl streaking across his handsome features. That bastard, what right had he to advise the King's majesty?

Still, the traitor had been right. And that was what he hated the most.

The staff's top had begun to glow, from its idle mint green to an excited velvet. Mallar took the King's hand and placed it on the spiralling colors. It was not physical, but there was a strange, cool repulsion it exhibited. Magnets, he thought, the people of Earth had this repulsive force too, in their magnets. That was what he'd learned in the numerous attempts he and Mallar had performed this trick.

Numerous attempts, and not one successor.

"Mallar," the King suddenly said, his eyes shooting open. The magician was spooked.

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Abandon the normal people. We need someone..." The King glanced into the cool velvet flames under his hand. "We need someone that needs our help."

To this, Mallar dazed off, then back to the King again. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Thank you as always, my friend. Let us begin."

The King's closed his eyes to the sound of familiar chanting. Darkness engulfed him, its hands almost suffocating him, forcing him to hold his breaths. The chanting faded gradually into distance with increasing slurry echoes, like moving from sound and safety into a pitch-black tunnel. Everything went drowsy as with ten pints of ale, and it was deep slumber before the darkness gave way to light again; clarity flushing back to his mind as the surroundings merged into shape.

A girl stood in front of him. Her oak hair seamless on top but on the ends a mess, stranding out of a milky white, but sickly pale face. Her eyes were gorgeous, a shining emerald, but bloodshot and with tears trickling down her cheeks. Her mouth was moving, cracked lips, but there was no sound. But it was obvious she was sobbing, he had never seen a countenance so in pain.

She was looking into the mirror, but the girl in the mirror was looking back into her, and him. Ignoring her fragility, there was only one word he could think of. Beautiful.

But it was time to speak, to start their story, to save his kingdom. His deep, calming voice sounded and rallied a startle in those emerald eyes.

"Hello?"

Chapter 1

"So dear, how was your lesson?" Mr. Elkwood said, his warm eyes glancing at his daughter from the car mirror. She could see the bright smile of his. But it was going to be taken away from her.

"Uh, great!" Elise Elkwood said, gleaming. "They said my voice was nice."

Elliot snickered beside her. "You sing like a whale," he said, then burst into smirks. Elise grabbed his 12-year-old head and shook it back and forth, screaming "you smell like a pig, you stupid brat."

They sat back in laughter.

"Well, they should," Elise's mother said. "Maybe now with those lessons you can go catch that dream of yours."

Elise sprang till beside her with a playful smile and narrowing eyes. "Was there ever a doubt?"

Outside, headlamps sped past. The road was illuminated in a yellow hue by streetlights. Elise opened the window to feel the cool autumn air in her face, her hair blowing with the wind.

The radio started singing.

You were the shadow to my light, did you feel us~~

"Oh, quick turn it up!" Elise yelled, and lunged forward to the dashboard. Of course she wanted it up, Elliot's voice was cracking and hurting her ears.

Another story, you fade away~~

"Hey, Elise! I'm driving here!" Mr. Elkwood yelled. Elise's fingers had spun the dial and she retracted back. "You're 15, could you be more mature?" But he said it calmly.

"Sorry dad," she said, and sung. Her voice was almost similar to that of the singer. Elliot thought perhaps that was the reason she loved the song so much. Cheater!

"Afraid our aim is out of sight, wanna see us..."

"Alight~~"

Horns rang and in an instant an explosion followed. It was so quick she didn't even register what was happening. Her head slammed into the side window, and before the pain erupted the scene was spinning - the horizon went from road to sky to hills to ground. Her arms struggled to catch anything that could steady her but it was in vain, she was flailed around the car, her torso jabbed from all sides, and just as fast as it started she had been flung out of a window, her head landing in an audible smack into the asphalt. In her blurring vision the cars were still swirling and thrashing away, the darkness engulfed her before she could see the cars stop.

*

Elise awoke violently, gasping, coughing, fumbling for her inhaler. Her fingers found the cool device and sucked the air dry. Deep breaths, exhale. Deep breaths, exhale.

It was apparent. The silence showed itself instantly, reminding her. Hey, you're crippled now! You're disabled! You're not FUNCTIONAL anymore!

She sat, dazed, when she calmed down and wiped away her tears, and a desperate scream to let it all out. At least, it felt like a scream. It might wake the neighbours, but meh, who fucking cares. Who fucking cares after all this she'd been through.

The floor was cold, and it was a little disorienting not hearing the door unlock or the water swish or anything. Elise had her eyes locked into those on the mirror. It was unsettling, seeing how much herself had changed. How quickly and drastically everything had changed. And yet there she was now. A huge scar on her forehead and no sound, but otherwise it was still the same, that image on the mirror. Perhaps that was what's most unsettling.

Why hadn't she gone with her brother and father.

No. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. She realized how often now she used that word. Fuck. I still have mom to take care of.

It had been a week since she had returned home from the hospital, and today was the second Monday. The laundry was in a big stinking pile and the carpets were gritty. Elise had given those chores the finger. Heck, she groaned even making her own breakfast. The stupid milk only filled half a cup, the stupid packaging for bread was hard to open, the stupid toaster took too long and the stupid butter spread in clumps.

She ate in a stale stillness she would not get used to. The toast was unappetizing. But school would be even more so. The doctor gave her the go a week ago, but she wished there would be someone to tell her, particularly her mother to tell her, "you don't need to go to school if you don't want to!"

But of course not.

Her mother was in a coma. Stable, the doctors said, but yet to wake up. She had been a good woman, setting education a priority for her dear children. No day would go by with them skipping school without a valid reason, not one day. She would not allow it. When Elliot - Elise winced away her tears and blocked out the thought, but it forced itself in - when that brat Elliot had skipped school a Thursday morning, Mrs. Elkwood took notice only when she came home from work. She did not say a thing. Elise remembered Elliot feeling so anxiously suspicious of Mom that Friday morning that he willingly went to school, not missing a day since then.

But those were all gone.

Now it was her. She had gone a week without school. Should she go?

She grabbed her bag and stepped out the door, not hearing it close. Oh shit. Need she be reminded? Her steps were on automatic and dragged her out into the neighbourhood and into the sun she had not seen in days. The bus stop was a just a few blocks away.

Shit, stupid Elise, you're deaf! You're fucking deaf! Head right back-

Mom would have looked her with eyes whose confidence pierced her. "Got a problem? Deal with it," she said in a just as sharp smile.

You don't fucking need to go to school, get this sorted out first, damn it!

Her steps slowed. But as she looked up, Aster and Riles were staring her, their disbelief dissipating with widening eyes.

She didn't need to hear her friends. "Elise," she saw.

___

Let me know if you liked it and I'll post more :p