Monica Endacott-Isaeva - Aged 13 - Winner!
A brief, unassuming piece of a larger fantasy epic, truly accomplished in its effectiveness despite its length. An oppressive, dark atmosphere expertly suffuses the entire story, bringing characters, history, and tragedy alike fully to life with equal vibrancy. The way the story begins in the heat of the action creates suspense effectively. The later exposition then cleverly gives context to Alaric’s situation. The description in this piece is masterful. It really drags the reader in with metaphors and similes; we could see the scene so well that it almost felt like we were watching a movie. All the delivered information was composed in a subtle manner that seemed professional. An excellent piece and we were gripped from the get-go. We want to know a lot more about this story and universe!
“As consciousness slowly returned to him, Alaric found himself heaving for breaths. His mind was a haze, slowly thumping along to the beating of his heart. A fire burnt the back of his eyes; scorching his throat. Abruptly, panic rose in his chest. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? No matter how hard he tried, his eyelids drooped down. Memories of the previous day fogged, the rising of his chest calmed, he felt his thoughts slipping away. Oh, how he wanted to rest.
No.
His head throbbed and ached, why not soothe the pain?
Open your eyes.
Why bother endure the agony?
Open. Your. Eyes.
A slit was all he managed at first, just enough to see the stretching darkness engulfing him. With great effort, Alaric tried to push the torment away, widening his field of vision. Although it took some time for his eyes to adjust, he could feel the slow burning at his wrists and ankles, confining him from the smallest movements.
He was in a dark room. The only source of light was the faint orange rim peeking through a doorway. In front of Alaric, a crooked table, seemingly stone, pressed against his shins.
He rose his head, resting it on the wall behind him. Something was pressing into his back, but the uncomfortable feeling was drowned over the itch he felt that lurked in his lungs. His hair was matted to his forehead, and shirt stuck to his chest.
Alaric froze, paralyzed in fear. A loud screeching sound echoed from outside the door. In angst, Alaric buried himself against the wall, not wanting to collide with the source of the sound. Spontaneously, the sound was cut off. Trying to hold his breath he was still met with dismay, Alaric’s heartbeat thumped, as loud as ever, giving his hiding spot away.
Once more, a bone-chilling cry was heard from outside the room. It seemed to stretch on for hours, perhaps only a couple of minutes. It was impossible to tell the time in the eerie, dark chamber. The cry seemed to be approaching closer, yet once again was cut off. Just as Alaric believed he was safe in the little room, the heavy metal door started to grind against the stone floor. Terror-stricken, Alaric attempted to escape the rope- harness, only to be unsuccessful. As the door found its way, alongside the wall, Alaric closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, trying to relax his hands: giving the impression he was still asleep.
Someone had entered the room, their shoes tapped on the ground, to the beat of Alaric’s heart and veins. Uncontrollably, Alaric’s hands began to shake.
Stop.
He couldn’t be discovered, who knew what would happen- he had to wait for them to leave.
But the person didn’t. Instead, he heard the door rumbling shut behind the stranger, and a chair being pulled out in front of the table. Peeking, he noticed the rim of light lessened, and a silhouette of a young woman sat before him. Her sharp diamond-like eyes bore into his. His body tensed. Did she know he had woken up?
“Hello Alaric.” The woman quietly, but steadily, spoke. He recognised her youthful voice, yet his head still throbbed, his memories still fogged.
The woman sighed and leant back in her chair. Alaric couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Who was she? How did he end up here? He must’ve been drugged. There was no other explanation.
“Alaric. Do not try fool me.” Not one time had she moved her gaze from him. The woman had dark, long hair, and a delicate mark along her shoulder, that reached around- towards her back. Suddenly, her eyes filled up with sorrow. “I’m so sorry...”, she whispered. “I had no choice. You were a traitor. A threat to my family.”
Alaric sharply opened his eyes, his mouth slightly agape. What had she meant? The chamber seemed to enclose on the two, the air thin and cold. The gears in his mind began to spin, his chest heavy and eyes wide.
The woman smiled at Alaric. A warm, familiar look. She lit a candle and placed it on the stone table. Craning her neck, she turned to glance at the door. The woman lent forwards and grasped Alaric’s strained hand. His thoughts stilled, like the world had gone silent, leaving him with one name.
“Elysia.”
A sharp pain hit him, flood of emotions passing through his brain. He had grown up penurious, endured countless nights rummaging the guarded streets for a scrap of food. He had watched his family rot away; their faces turn slim and grey. He had been the youngest, with an older brother. Barely surviving each passing day. The town was only fit for the rich and titled, the poor- only pests and a nuisance to those with full stomachs. Shaking his head, the horrible smell of decaying food and wood found their way into his memories. The terrible association with the early colours of dawn turned his stomach: Scrawny humans, lifelessly swaying on display for the act of replenishing their hunger. Not to mention, hearing the deep shrieks of the Thraxis, hiding in the shadows, trembling- wondering if you’d be next. The huge beasts, singular scales as large as people, the slimy bodies covering fields. The memories of the huge creatures moving to the command of the king.
Yet here she was, trying to justify her actions. Alaric was unable to look at her- he felt nauseous and betrayed- his nose scrunching up. He used to trust her, believed she was different from her father, she would use the beasts for good, prevent wars. Yet when he spoke to her about it- suggested the beasts to be released, spread some food to the poor- she had accused him of trying to strip the royal family of their power. They had been so close, he shared the times his father would steal bread to provide the family with some food, yet she had him hung.
Letting go, Elysia dabbed at her glistening eyes and glanced down.
“I understand.”
In shock, Elysia looked up at Alaric, eyes red and wide.
“You tried to save your family.” He carefully spoke, “Please, just remove the rope, I’m already in so much pain.”
Elysia quickly rushed to Alaric, pulling a little dagger out from her satchel. She cut the rope and dropped the dagger to the table, unable to look away from Alaric- who was rubbing his wrists with a grimace.
“I’m so sorry...” She whispered, approaching him. Tears slid down her face, her eyes red and puffy. Alaric gave a sad smile and pulled her in for a hug. Hushing her, he gently closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry too.”
Elysia paused, gasping for air, in despair, her eyes met with the dagger hilt and blade that was plummeted into her stomach. She tried to mutter a word to Alaric, but her ears rang and a deep, cold, shiver passed through her body.
Holding his breath, Alaric let Elysia drop the stone floor, not daring to give her a second glance.
At once, a scorching sound echoed, the ground began to rumble. The red liquid oozed over the floor. Alaric was met with a wave of torment, heat engraved into his body, as lines and patterns etched into his skin. A low roar sounded around him as the door opened. He stepped out into the corridor, his head burning and throbbing. The windows presented a crimson sky, the winged beasts circling the castle. The sign of a new leader.