Camilla's Mist Part 4The double doors flew open and a brigade of nobles flooded the throne room. Only complaints could be heard over the sound of their marching feet. On the throne, sat the king. The young man watched the flock of quacking geese from tired eyes, what were once shimmering blue pools now lie dormant. His brown hair seemed to grey with every problem he faced. And here came more.
"Your majesty," a noble hissed, "There's been dead carcasses appearing on my land and they may be of diseases. This is a threat, my king, and I demand it to be dealt with!"
"Carcasses?" A women faun bustled up, wearing clothes obviously peasant worth. "Alison, from the fields. My liege the soldiers have taken far too many crops. Farm families are starving at the hands of these- pigs!"
"Pigs? Is that not your job?" Leighton crossed his arms and held up his chin to her, a fine pointed mustache. The faun growled but nothing else.
"You do not make demands of my king, Lord Leighton," The seneschal stepped forth from
Camilla's Mist Part 3As the years pressed on, the king's health weakened. His doomed day slowly approached and it showed- no matter how much he'd hide it. The queen urged her son to take his place, but the boy was a young man now, far off adventuring and chasing the skirts of lower class women. In fact, word had spread that the prince,Quail he wished to be called, favored one seedy tavern in particular. The Wounded Mare brought upon itself as a tainted reputation from is constant drunken fights to its promiscuous women all the way down to their watered ale. Such frivolous, carefree nature sparked intrest in the boy. One Camilla won't let past.
Camilla returned to the lake, for her obsession of the king and prince along with isolation led her mind to dwindle, knowledge of her own magic pasted. She touched her grimoire. Its pages grew dark and torn. Reading from the faded letters, the familiar mist blanketed the lake. From it the voice spoke.
"Has not the
Camilla's Mist Part 2 Seasons past like wind. The newborn prince was now a lad, doe-eyed and mischievous. Fearless and malicious. Curious and careless. But this left him without many friends. An annual festival brought the promise of the prince's appearence. So once again, Camilla seized her chance. The ancient words were spoken. The mist rolled in over the lake.
The voice boomed, "You have returned, witch. Have you not achieved your goal? Were you not to think of murderer during the night?"
Camilla's brows lowered and fist clutched. The woman knelt before the lake's bed. "Master Mist, bring me a child. Let him be a deviant. Fearless and careless. Daring and free. Let no consequence best him."
"Such a hooligan to upkeep. This child won't listen -"
"I care not," Camilla ushered, "Bring me the cursed vandal!"
Again the water rippled and aboard a makeshift raft laid
Camilla's Mist part 1 Once there was a witch name Camilla who lived in a cottage in a forest beside Falcon castle. Inside the castle lived King Falcon, hansome and rich. She loved this man. She loved his money. But King Falcon was married to his beloved queen, and refused to be swooned by any other. Many a time Camilla disguised herself as an attractive chambermaid to bed the King or kill the queen, but no avail.
Years past and news spread throughout the kingdom of the new born prince. The witch seized the grand opportunity. Shortly after the prince's birth, Camilla grabbed her grimoire and left for the lake well away. Speaking it's ancient words, a mist settled upon the lake's surface. "Speak,witch," said the mist, "my power is yours." Camilla sent her request:
"Master Mist, bring me a babe. His eyes shall be as blue as the sky, hair as bown as the Grand Oak's bark, and face as beautiful as a summer's day."
The water ripple