Word had spread throughout the forests, passing along from traveler, to magic folk. The king of Amata, Sarrum, was dead. He died in battle; a sword thrust into his heart, he had died with no haste. No sorrow found itself onto Aithusa’s features, she wore a wide smile; and cerulean eyes were filled with delight.
”Smile Peter, it seems as if you are finally free of your father. You should celebrate.”
Hearing the news about his father made him feel like a child, in his chambers with his mother, crying and reaching for her delicate touch. Wanting his father, but knew deep that he would never come. But now, he was not a child anymore.
He refused to accept the idea of his father being deceased. They were all lies, he told himself. Just lies. This must all be the doings of Camelot, the kingdom that outlawed magic, the one whom were against Sarrum after his failed assassination plan. They must have been at battle & killed him right there in cold blood.
