It was a dark, cloudless night, the same as any other in the northernmost part of Veridun. Rainy days were few and far between, causing the land to become dry and cracked. The only landmarks the dead trees that dotted the land.

In the distance was Ammos, the only city in that part of the realm, shining brightly like a beacon in the night. The city was filled to the brim with people, one of the smallest and yet, the most populated kingdoms in the realm.

The air was tense, all the citizens could feel it, even if they did not know the reason. The market place had been empty, and eerily silent. Most citizens had gone into their homes before dark, as though they felt unsafe in the dwindling light. The king knew what was wrong, as he sat in his throne room, waiting silently. It was Ammos's turn to hold the Key. The last time they held it was long before the current king had been born.

King Wyndel fidgeted in his seat, squirming and hoping no one would notice. He was an older man, a werewolf, with blonde hair that was greying slightly at the sides. Wrinkles were prominent around his eyes and on his forehead. His grey eyes were wide, staring around the room in nervousness.

Protecting the Key was an important role for the kingdom. Kings and queens were only told the day before the Key was to arrive that they were getting it, as it had to be moved in absolute secrecy. King Wyndel would hold it for a decade, until it was moved elsewhere.

Holding the Key was dangerous, as many people came from all over the land to find it, as if it were some kind of treasure. The consequences of losing, or compromising the position of the Key could result in certain death. Years and years beforehand, there had been a close call. A king had told his eldest daughter, who spread it among her own friends. When the news got out, the Key was moved, and the King and princess, as well as her friends, assassinated.

Wyndel was not prepared for the duty. No one knew, bar him and his most trusted advisor, that the Key would be in Ammos that night, and no one was to find out. If anyone did... He didn't want to think about what would happen to him.

Wyndel stood up, nervous, and began to pace about the room. He ran a hand through his golden hair, messing it up. He wasn't sure what the procedure was for something like this. He didn't even know what time the Key was arriving, who was coming, what to say. He didn't know anything.

"Sire," Darren, his most trusted advisor, said, "You must calm down." The man stood next to the throne, his back straight, looking at Wyndel with sharp blue eyes. He looked much younger than Wyndel, who had never been sure of the man's age. A light stubble covered the lower part of his face, the colour matching the dark brown of his hair.

"How can I calm down?" Wyndel exclaimed, spinning on his feet to look at the other man, "I have no idea what I am doing!"

"That does not matter," Darren told him, giving the king a look of pure exasperation, "None of the rulers know what they are doing when given the key. You will only be told to protect it with your life."

"And if I can't?"

"You will, nothing bad has ever happened."

"Yet."

"Yet, but it will not happen here, I promise you this."

"You can't promise anything of the sort, Darren."

The other man sighed. "No, I can't, you're just going to have to believe me." Darren smirked. Wyndel ran his hands over his face. He was not ready for this, he should have declined. Could he decline? He didn't think so. It was too late to do anything about it now.

He had no time to prepare anyone to protect it. He could think of a few generals he trusted, but not that much. Not enough to protect to most important thing in Veridun. He trusted Darren, but he was needed to give him advice in matters like these, not hide away with the Key.

Gods, what he supposed to do?

The door to the throne burst open with a loud creak, and one of the castles many servants came bumbling in. It was young boy, a page, probably sent by one of the knights stationed at the entrance of the castle.

"S-Sire!" the young boy cried, dropping to the floor in a sloppy bow. He was still learning, it seemed.

"Yes? What is it?" Wyndel asked, even know he knew what it would be. They had arrived, and he still hadn't figured anything out.

"A party has arrived, your Majesty," the boy answered, out of breath and shaking with nervousness. Wyndel wondered what he could possibly be nervous about, he wasn't the one responsible for protecting an entire realm. "They request your presence at the front gate."

King Wyndel nodded, and gestured back at his most trusted advisor. "Darren, with me," he said, leaving the boy behind and marching out of the lavish throne room and into the main hall. He didn't look behind him to see if Darren was following, he knew he would. He always did.

Wyndel had never married, and therefore had no children, so Darren was the closest person to him. Darren had stuck by him since he had been crowned king, and had been his closest friend for the same amount of time. His advisor knew everything about him, and always knew what to say to calm him down. He couldn't imagine having anyone else guide him during his reign.

The pair walked through the brightly lit main hall, its gray stone walls decorated with the colourful banners of all the kingdoms in Veridun. Elegant arched windows ran along the wall, letting in the moonlight. Royal blue curtains with a shining gold trim hung to the side, being closed by servants as the pair walked past. Two gold chandeliers shone bright light into every corner of the room. A grey carpet led the way from the doors of the throne room to the main doors of the castle. At those doors stood a party of three people, accompanied by a pair of knights.

The party moved forward the greet the king. A man with dark brown hair and even darker eyes stepped forward and dropped down onto one knee. He was very familiar, Wyndel was sure he had seen him before somewhere. The other two members of the group followed, dropping down onto the floor with their leader.

"Stand," Wyndel ordered, looking down at the three of them. He had to keep an air confidence, otherwise they would know that he has no idea what he is doing.

"We come on behalf of King Leopold of Skodur," the lead man said, "He could not make it today, as he is very sick and restricted to his bed." Wyndel knew he recognised that face, this was King Leopold's eldest son, Prince William.

"Of course," Wyndel replied, "I wish for him to get better soon."

"Thank you, your Majesty," William said with a nod and a smile.

"Come, come, I have a place set up where we may talk," Wyndel replied with a smile of his own, gesturing the men forward. He turned and saw that Darren was already heading towards the room they had gotten the servants to set up earlier in the day.

The party of five walked down the cold stone halls, decorated in a manner that tried to look inviting, yet failed. Many of the servants had fallen ill, meaning that much of the cleaning was not done. Cobwebs and dust were visible in almost every corner, and if Wyndel turned to look he could see that the prince and his followers were looking at his castle with contempt.

Darren was leading the way, glancing back at Wyndel occasionally to make sure he was alright. They stopped soon enough at a dark wood door. Darren opened it, stepping back to let the rest of the group in.

The room was as dimly lit as the corridor outside, but much more clean. They had gotten the servants in to dust and clean the room as best they could. In the middle sat a wooden table surrounded by six chairs, a candelabra in the middle with the candles lit. A fireplace sat at one end of the room, the fire casting warmth and light around the room. At the opposite end was a portrait of Wyndel's father, Wyndel the First. An open window sat opposite the door, letting in the cool night breeze.

Wyndel took his place at the head of the table, while Darren sat at the opposite end. Their company filled the rest of the seats, glancing warily at Darren, who didn't seem bothered by the looks.

"Are you sure he should be in here?" the prince asked, addressing Wyndel and throwing an annoyed look at Darren.

"Of course. I trust him with everything," Wyndel explained, his brow furrowing. The prince scoffed, earning a glare from Darren.

"Even this?"

"Even this," Wyndel said confidently.

"Well, let's get down to business, then."

Prince William reached in his breast pocket, feeling around for something. Wyndel sat on the edge of his seat, eyes wide and his bottom lip between his teeth. William pulled his gloved hand from his pocket and dropped the object on the table.

The Key.

It was a twisted hunk of wood in the rough shape of a key, supposedly made out of the same wood as the Gate it unlocked. It looked... dull, not as majestic as Wyndel had expected from something that was meant to protect the world.

"That's it?" he asked, earning his own glare from William.

"Of course, what were you expecting? Glowing? Magic? It's a key, Gods," the prince snarled.

Wyndel rose up in his seat, towering over the prince even while sitting. "You should show me more respect, I am a king!" He didn't understand what had angered the young prince. Was is Darren's presence, or was he just naturally agitated?

William was silent for a long time, before he finally replied, "Apologies, your Majesty."

It was silent for a long while, Wyndel and Darren staring at the Key with wide, unbelieving eyes. It looked as though it was branch pulled off a tree, not like a key. Wyndel could hardly believe that this was it.

"Question is, Majesty," the prince started, drawing Wyndel's eyes away from the chunk of wood. "What are you going to do with it? Do you have protection set up?"

"No," Wyndel muttered, hoping that William had not heard him.

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'no'?" William exclaimed loudly.

"I said, no, I do not have anything set up," Wyndel said, louder this time. William was starting to annoy him greatly. Never had he met such a disrespectful prince. He did not want to see what he would be like as king.

"What are you going to do?" William snarled, glaring. "Are you going to give it to him?" He jerked a thumb at Darren, who was looking at the young prince with contempt. The prince's company were looking down at the table with a blush on their face. They were very obviously embarrassed by how their prince was acting. Good, Wyndel thought, they should be.

"No," he replied, pursing his lips. "I'm going to keep it on me." He wasn't exactly sure where that idea came from, but thinking about it, it wasn't the worst idea. It would do until he could come up with a better idea and could organise something.

"Excuse me?" Apparently, William felt differently. The brat.

"I'll keep it on me. Anyone after the Key would expect the king holding it to hide it away, not keep it with them."

"That's actually a really good idea," one of the men with William muttered, looking back down at the table when the prince glared at him.

"Fine," he said, "Do what you will." He thrust the wooden Key towards the older king. Wyndel held it gingerly, as though it would break if his grip was too strong. He stared at it for a long while, before placing it in his breast pocket.

The three men stood, Wyndel and Darren following shortly after. "If that is all," William started, "Then we shall be on our way." Wyndel said nothing in reply, only moved towards the door.

The corridor outside was colder than the room they had just left, and Wyndel could feel goosebumps crawling along his skin. The three men from Skodur were ahead of him and Darren was next to him, his eyes glued to the three men.

Wyndel sighed, grateful that the trio were leaving. The meeting had gone a lot quicker than he expected. There was nothing for him to sign, only the passing over of the Key. He looked over at Darren next to him, frowning at the look on the other man's face.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, placing a hand on Darren's arm. The prince looked at them over his shoulder, a sneer forming on his dimly lit face.

"You were wrong, you know?" Darren said, not looking at him. Wyndel glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"About what?" he asked.

"Me."

Wyndel stopped, looking at his friend. Noticing that their company was no longer moving, Prince William and his company paused in their movements, looking back at the pair. Out of the corner of his eye, Wyndel saw the prince let out an exaggerated sigh.

"What?" he said, moving his hand away and taking a step back.

"I'm sorry," Darren said sadly, turning towards him.

There was a blinding pain, and all he saw was white. For the longest time his vision was completely swallowed by light and his body was enveloped in pain. He registered the sounds of screams and the feeling of the cold stone floor on his face. He must have fallen. Why? Why had he fallen?

His vision returned to him slowly, but the pain never went away. He screamed as he caught a glimpse of Darren above him. His eyes were a deep, dark red, scales taking the place of the skin around them. His hands were on fire, no, not just his hands, his entire arm was a burst of orange flame. He was a monster, something he had never seen before. His friend let out a roar and chased after the three Skodurian men. He watched as Darren plunged his hand into William's back, setting him on fire from the inside out. He watched as Darren set the other men aflame with a touch of his hand. He watched as they writhed and wriggled and died.

He tried to scramble backwards, away, anywhere, but as soon as he moved, his vision flashed white again. Panting, he looked down at the source of the pain. A large hole in his abdomen, cauterised by the flame in Darren's hands. Why? How?

His breathing quickened, his heart thumping, his trembling hands trying to cover the fatal wound. He looked up, only to see dark red eyes in front of his face. Darren.

"T-Traitor," he muttered as best he could, heartbroken. Darren only scoffed.

"I know. I did say I was sorry," the red eyed monster replied, reaching toward Wyndel.

Wyndel screamed, once again trying to get away from his former friend. "What are you?" He screamed it over and over again, but Darren never replied, only reached toward his chest.

At first, Wyndel thought that Darren was about to plunge his hand through his chest like he had his abdomen. Then he realised. The Key. Darren wanted the Key. He tried to push the fiery hand away, but he had grown far too weak. With a small tug at his breast pocket, the Key was in Darren's hand.

The monster smirked. "I've wanted this for so, so long."

Wyndel didn't reply, couldn't reply. His vision was fading, black around the edges. He reached for Darren, but his arm felt too heavy to lift high enough to do anything.

"No!" a new voice, female, screamed from the end of the hall. Wyndel could hardly register it. He stopped being able to move when Darren rushed past him in a blur or orange flames. He felt himself lose his breath as the flame was followed by a flurry of inky black feathers. Then, he was no more.