Revolution and Retribution

I was just eight years old when my parents, the king and queen, were murdered by my paternal aunt, Arana. I had never met her in my life; all Dad ever told me was that she left the city soon after he was crowned king, and that no one had seen or heard from her since. Now, she had returned, and as a dark witch at that.

Arana spared my life, but forced me into a life of servitude. She gained a great following, mostly out of fear, but many royal guards and servants who remained loyal to my parents feigned fealty to her so that they could bide their time. I did the same. I couldn’t wait to overthrow her one day—she would regret sparing my life.

A decade passed by. Although Arana made me her slave, she couldn’t stand the sight of me once I reached the age of fifteen. She said I reminded her too much of my father. Not long after, she locked me away in the donjon, where I remained for three years, plotting my revenge. Servants and royal guards that remained loyal to me would sneak in books on magic so I could learn in my solitude. Her negligence was to soon be her downfall.

By the time I was eighteen, I had mastered every type of magic I had learned through the many books I got my hands on. I had to perfect my precision and control over magic as one wrong move would have alerted Arana. But now the time drew near for me to end the witch’s rule and take the throne she stole from my parents. The night before my counter-attack, I saw my parents in a dream.

“Riannon, don’t let your hate control you… Magic is a double-edged blade,” Mom said.

“Don’t let yourself be like Arana,” Dad said.

I woke up seconds later, perplexed. Like her? What did he mean? How could I ever turn into someone so vile?

The next night, I broke free from the donjon and rallied all the royal guards and servants on my side to overthrow those who were loyal to Arana. The castle grounds resounded with the clanging of steel, and fires raged across many a hall as I pushed back her forces with my unyielding rage, reducing everyone who stood in my way to ash. It was not long before I was face to face with my nemesis herself.

We both volleyed a barrage of attacks at each other, exploding the stone walls around us and shaking the very ground we stood upon. The entire castle rumbled with our wrath. As the battle waged on, however, the dark witch began to grow weaker.

“You seem to have grown too old to maintain those powers.” I sneered as I brought her down to one knee.

“You’re just like your father!” Arana’s eyes were piercing; it was far more vengeful than they had been that day.

“What did my father ever do to you?”

“The throne should have been mine. Curse my father for forsaking my trust.”

It was jealousy… Arana was the elder sibling, but Dad was the one who was crowned king. The words my parents told me in my dream resurfaced in my mind. I finally understood what they meant.

I pushed back Arana with my magic. We were both hurling waves of fire at each other at the time, but I changed my methods: I created a spherical barrier around her and closed it in on her, forcing her to undo her fire magic. I then chanted a spell I had come across—one that would strip away her magic. Sigils formed on the surface of the barrier. Arana understood what I was planning and began to retaliate, but she was too weak to overpower me. The battle was over in minutes.

With Arana defeated, everyone who was loyal to her surrendered. I had them imprisoned along with her. In the weeks that followed, everyone came together to repair the ruined castle. For the first time since I started practising magic, I was able to channel my powers for intentions outside rage and vengeance. It was as if I had been released from a great burden; I was free of my invisible shackles.