The Raging Diamond

Lands of Gliala: Atarah was geared for war. The sunlight struck harshly against her golden armor, blinding anyone standing beside her. That’s why she stood alone, in front, on top of her Akhal-Teke. Bearing the black rifle on her back and two blades on her belt. She donned on the red cape, embroidered with the Royal seal. A curved sword between two diamonds. Her army was positioned on the hill overlooking the vast war-torn land of Gliala. Once a thriving city of farmers, but when the Lura ravaged the land, bringing chaos, the city became ashes. “We have word that the army is closing in.” General Jasper walked up to her. “They are quite brave,” Atarah smirked, knowing what was coming for the enemy. “Place the snipers, block the exits. How is the air force coming?” She was looking straight ahead, at the notches, as if waiting for a long-loved one. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, strands of curls stopped under her ears. “Everything is in place, your highness.” Jasper

It was Elaxai who bandaged her after every battle, a short beautiful Elvi, with blond hair reaching her knees. “You were careful this time, your highness.” She said, wiping the crusted blood on the wound. Atarah flinched and bit her lips. “He stabbed me.” Elaxai smiled, and her pupils changed color. “I'm glad my pain makes you happy.” Atarah gripped the bedsheets when Elaxai placed her palm on the wound, and a rush of heat followed it. She was using magic. “Oh no, your highness. I just assumed your meeting went well with Prince Dragomir.” She looked Atarah in the eyes, her expression worried.“He stabbed me,” Atarah said, eyeing her shoulder. The Elvi removed her palm and got up. “All done. Get some sleep. You have to give a speech at the memorial tomorrow.” Elaxai lit up some honey-scented candles in her room and left, closing the door behind her, giving Atarah the peace and privacy she wished for. ^^^^^^^^^^^^It was past midn

Orantal, the capital of Sargas was alive at 1 am. The streets were filled with people walking in crowds, holding electric candles, and singing the funeral song. Atarah had sung herself in many funerals, but she had never witnessed the song reach her heart when sung by a thousand. She stopped running and stood on the dark rooftop watching her people grieve their beloved King. Something stung in her heart and in her nose. She tried to hold it in, but it was no use, and she released the emotions she was burying deep. Sure, the king was more like a fool than a father, but he did bring her up with love and affection. Taught her to protect herself because she couldn't trust the court, taught her to become the best of the best, so that when the time comes, it will be the people who fear her, and not the other way around. But most of all he was the only one besides Astara, whom she could joke about Delroy.Atarah sniffed. Dammit, she thought, wiping the tears with her sleeves. Why did they ha

The walk back to the palace was quiet. Atarah’s head was covered again. She was walking in the middle with the three soldiers surrounding her. The streets were almost empty, and little by little the street lights were turning on. Richard stopped at the intersection, where a fountain had just turned on and water droplets flew from the splashes. Atarah took off her hood. “Are we there yet?” she asked, but Richard only put up his hand. Someone was hiding in the left alley. “Come out.” Richard said. Atarah already had her hand gripped on the handle of the blade, she knew her reflexes were faster than the bullet. “I COMMAND YOU TO COME OUT.” He yelled this time. Atarah heard a low growl in the shadows, and purple-blue pupils blinked at the group several times. She smirked, letting go of her grip and relaxing. “It’s alright, Richard. She means no harm.” Richard looked at his queen, confused, but got his answer when Astara walked out of the shadows. Her eyes threateningly settled on Richar

Atarah was already having a bad day. She decided the council needed to see who was in charge. “Delroy can’t always get his way.” She mumbled. Delroy must've been her father and her uncle’s advisor, but her rule will have some changes. She walked far away from the council hall and stopped in front of a circular window, which overlooked the famous Sargas rose garden. The weather was beautiful, and she wished to run to the waterfalls, where her favorite place lay behind the cave. Atarah had everything there, her practice weapons, and hidden wine, which she stole whenever the king would open his exclusive wine collection. She discovered the cave when she was 7 and on a hunt with her father. “Who does it belong to?” she had asked her father, noticing every single detail in the damp cave with wide eyes and an open mouth. Her father had chuckled at her reaction. “To us. It belongs to Sargas, to the royal family, to the people of Sargas. To you.” He cupped her face with affection and picked h