Prologue
A soul of grace shall take the lead,
With humble heart and noble deed.
He gives his gold to those in need,
And sows the peace like blessed seed.
No pride shall stain his silver crest,
By kindness is the Hero blessed,
To put the ancient dark to rest.
Should he stray from virtue’s light,
Or turn his back on what is right,
The stars shall fade into the night,
And seal the kingdom’s final blight.
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The Prophecy-bearer’s silver cloak didn’t look so divine when it was stained with the mud of the Glade.
He stood over the body, his sword still humming, waiting for the rush of triumph that usually followed.
It never came.
Instead, the heavy, rhythmic beat of the Queen’s guards approaching.
"Roderick."
A voice called out.
He didn't need to look up to know Queen Melody was watching.
He also didn't need a sneer to tell him that he had just murdered the person meant to save their home.
****
