I saw my dad for a last time. His face was handsom, and gleamed. He had short black hair, and always smiled.
“I’ll miss you,” He said, before he was off to war. “I’ll miss you.”
I woke up, gasping. I was lying on my bed. The red covers were flapped over and touching the ground.
“What’s wrong dear?” My mother said walking into my room. Her face was pale, and she looked worried.
“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing.”
My mother looked at me with a frown. “Please don’t scare me like that,” she said.
“All right,” I muttered.
My mother walked out of the room.
At that momment I crawled out of bed. I wan’t to be a hero! I cried inside my mind.
I grabbed my pocket-knife out of my dresser. And then grabbed my backpack. I got up, and ran to the window. I opened it up, and threw out my rope. I tied the top end on the top of my window, and started climbing down.
I am 13 years old, and I live with my mother. I have long black hair, that is always spikey. I wear a black torso and brown pants.
I reached the bottom, and it was dark. Wind brushed against my head, as I started walking towards the Castle. The Castle where my father was killed. And I needed revange. He died a year ago, and I remember seeing it. And it was a guard who murdered my father because he was angry at him. And he worked in the castle!
I drew my pocket-knife as I steped near a tree that was right at the castle. I hid behind it, and then grabbed my rope from my backpack. I ran towards the entrance, in the front of the Castle. I threw my rope, up, and it landed right on the ledge. It tied around, and I started climbing. As I reached the top, I saw two gaurds. They ran towards me.
“What are you doing kid?” One demanded. He had a sword drawn at my neck.
I drew a big breath. “I need to ask my father something,” I said. “He told me to find him here.”
The guard lowered his sword. “Very well,” he said.
I nodded, and walked away. I remembered the man’s face, his armor and all.
I reached a door, and opened it up. There stood the man. He didn’t wear a helmet. He also had black armor, and held the Jewled Scimatar.
“Howday,” he said, bowing. “What is a young lad like ya’ doing around these parts? It’s late, I reckon-” He broke off when I put out my hand.
“Enough,” I said. “Lets finsih this.”
“What?” the man asked, puzzled.
“You killed my father.”
The man looked down at me, and then my pocket-knife. Then he laughed. “Sorry kiddo, he brought it on himself,” the guard smiled.
“You bastard,” I screamed. I threw my pocket-knife at the guard’s face, and sliced him across the cheek. The guard fell over a little bit then grabbed my arm.
“You want to die like your father?” he hissed.
“Rather then let you live,” I growled.
Suddenly, there was an explosion. Fire flew in front of the castle, like a big flare. I flew back, and so did my father’s murder. There were guards running. Fire flew in the Castle, and my Father’s murder ran. He threw me to the ground and ran.
I started running too. I dropped my pocket-knife, but I didn’t care. At least I slit the guy’s face. I stopped near my rope, and looked out in the distance. Ships filled the dock, and on the flags that were on them had the words: Zelthora.
I screamed and climbed down the rope. I started running past houses, but saw nothing but pirates and workers of Zelthora running and killing people.
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The king was sitting in his throne, as two guards ran in the room.
“What is it?” the king demanded.
“Pirates of Zelthora,” one said calmly. “Should we take them out or let them get what they need?”
“They want the Crystal Sword,” the king said. “Take them out. Get all of the guards, and fight back. But damn, I hope Zelthora isn’t there.”
The guards bowed, and then ran out of the room.
“Please destory them,” The king muttered to himself. “Please-destory them.”
The king got up, and walked out of the Red Throne Room, as two guards ran after him again. “Zelthora is in the building,” they screamed.
“Get the Crystal Sword, we need to-” The king broke off, as the two guards fell to the ground, and Zelthora looked straight at him.
“It’s far, to late for that, King,” he said.
The king screamed, and drew his Sur Cuss sword. He slammed it against Zelthora’s head. But nothing happened.
“Ow,” Zelthora said, softly. Then he held out his hand.
The king screamed in terror, and blood ran down his face.
“Where is it,” Zelthora screamed in his face.
“That I will not tell you,” the king said, scared for his life.
“Then the pirates will search the building. I will leave no one alive,” Zelthora was full of anger.
The king dropped, dead on the floor. And blood dripped to the ground.
Zelthora turned around, and started walking. His black cape and robe ruseld in the wind. Then he put up his hood.
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