The High King's Bride

This book is Copywrited and for mature audiances. Enjoy!

The end of the Second War

The sky was a dark, crimson red while the sun appeared almost as a licorice black. Flames raged as Xaxas snapped his clawed finger, and the volcano erupted with another explosion. Shaking his horns, and silky coffee hair, he was merciless to all who lived in his path. He walked casually down the cracked, pitted cobblestone path, occasionally glancing a glare at the wolf who coughed blood. This was the last of the supernatural adversaries conscious in the small city, hindering his attempt at searching for the key to his mother and father’s prison realms. He had searched the world, destroying nearly every corner, lifting every stone, however he found nothing. Moments ago, the mortals here lived in luxurious happiness, now they all died from the ash and flames of his rage. And the few who lived, hid if they had the ability to do so.

The King of Wolves struggled and snarled at him, covered in scars and blood, gored in the liver. Xaxashevaal, the Ruling One chuckled at the beast, who was the last standing from the futile efforts to save the pitiful world around them. They had defeated or tricked the others, but none could best him. None could stop him from his rampage. He was merely doing what his beloved imprisoned parents had created him for. What else could be expected of the Horned One’s son? He grabbed the wolf by the throat with no effort and slammed him into the ground, leaving an impact in the stone where they stood.

The wolf took on the form of a naked man, smaller than the true King of the Supernaturals, and weaker as well. The King of All could hear his thoughts rolling around in his head. He wondered what to call Xaxas. Surely, not his name. That would be suicide. He held no right to even know what it was. In fact, he didn’t. He’d only heard the first half from a gurgled scream some time ago… the last time they fought.

“High King….” Coughed the wolf man. Xaxas raised a brow. To the wolf, the man was his King… they had been defeated, and he was probably the last thing Xaxas would encounter before killing them all.

“Hmm?” He questioned. He used his free hand to wave the slightest gesture, and man-eating demon spiders the size of horses borrowed from his father erupted from the ground. They skittered frantically snatching panicked mortals, dragging them body, soul, and all to Tartaron, the Kingdom of Hell. All the while, the sky rained fire, melting the innocent upon impact. Screams could be heard immediately in the distance, and the wails of the innocent made the King of Destruction smile.

The wolf was beyond intimidated. He regretted ever challenging such a creature. He had confronted one past himself by fathoms. He, who was simply born with all the abilities of the Princes of Destruction… the Old Ones…. as well as conjure magic beyond any other caster’s abilities decided to be ever so slightly merciful. The Wolf King cursed himself for not trying to reason with him sooner, now under the boot of one he could not best.

“Forgive our foolishness and allow us to breathe a little longer.” He coughed. “I see now… that this was a fool’s errand. I surrender on the behalf of my fallen comrades.” It was true they all laid throughout the city, that was in ruin, but they were not dead. They were forced to live repeatedly after death whereas he had never been defeated. They were the gods’ desperate attempt to maintain this world this time.