Mfonemana_Uduak

Dear readers, This is the most edited version of Lucy Wickshire on the net for my readers, whose eyes itch at mistakes.

Synopsis: One misty day, the higher realms call for penance; the head of a mother and child requested. The stench of blood carried on for miles, A whiff of pain trailed down pine-covered hills. A mother's head taken on a spike, a child saved despite great battle. A failure to be dreaded for years to come. Banking on time, the realms prepare for when a child becomes a woman. But the impatient child would never reward enemies with even time. A promise; One should resolve a child's grudge before the breast milk is dry. A prayer; May the realms rue the day they failed to kill Lucy Wickshire.
You are about to read the accounts of Lucy Torgenn of Wickshire and the millions of bodies burned as a backdrop to a child's rage.

Lucy Wickshire

The coldest day of the year had finally rolled through Thriergor till it reached Juhntt. Many were not anticipating the New Year coming the day after, they instead were excited for the cold wedding.

His majesty had allowed all to join in the age-old ceremony the new queen must perform. Regardless of the biting cold, the streets of the capital were packed full of people lined up on the path to the holy tower and the palace.

At this time, Amie was seated alone in her carriage being taken to the tower. Her family had left before her, making their way to the holy tower where she would take her vows. No matter how hard she tried, she could not calm down. She was the only one in her golden carriage, as such, no one was there to see her descend into panic.

The air she sucked down her lungs seemed to thicken and increase in weight, making it hard for her to breathe. She grabbed onto the carriage walls for support as she took in one breath at a time.

As her carriage accompanied by soldiers entered the capital, shouts from the crowd hit her, breaking the thick binds of the air and letting her breathe. She did not dare to look out the carriage window, for fear that the reality of the moment would bind her much stronger than the messenger of her fear; the air, had.

The golden carriage rolled through the streets, allowing the crowd to throw flower petals on the road as it passed. The carriage soon arrived at the holy tower. It was a lone dark tower high into the sky that could be seen from different directions of the capital.

Amie saw the carriage doors open and a chair placed before her to help her down. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped onto the chair and stepped down from the carriage and was met with cheers from the crowd.

Many stared at her white fox fur dress. The white fox fur draped a little more than half her body and flowed six feet behind her, allowing a hint of ice lace to pique through. Many sighed at the grand dress; before it occurred to them that her entire attire must weigh half gold tons and they paled. Rumours of the old traditions the bride must take to become queen had been floating around the past few days. For some reason, details such as this were leaked.

The old traditions demanded the queen must be dressed as such; the weight beneath the grace, it was said. They looked at the crown set on Amie's head, and they sighed. It was really beautiful, but how much did it weigh? They wondered.

Amie could feel the weight of her entire attire dare to pull her down as she stood up. No matter, she did not forget what Madam D'huile had told her. She kept her back straight and climbed the ten bowing steps into the tower, leaving behind the cheering crowd.

Amie stepped into the tower to the sound of bells ringing in a symphony. At large ironwood doors, she was met by her mother and father. They both took each hand and led her only fifteen steps before pulling away and allowing her to walk the remaining steps towards King Adrian.

She could feel the eyes of the audience on her the moment they stood and watched her walk down the aisle, but her eyes remained trained on King Adrian. He took her hand when she reached him and they both turned to the three monks in front of them.

Bk 2: chapter three (15)