The Dark Prince

I'm suddenly aware of everything.

First is the pain, striking right between my temples. It makes me wince, until I realise that my facial muscles are stiff. As I raise my hand to touch them, my wrist hits concrete, my skin raw as I yelp in pain.

Darkness surrounds me, as my eyes slowly peel open, seeing nothing but swirling colour on a black canvas in my vision.

The air is stale, as I breathe in deeply, my joints clicking in response. I must have fallen asleep in an odd position, as all my limbs feel numb.

And then it hits me. Where am I? Who am I? No matter how deep I scrape the back of mind, everything comes up blank.

I remember nothing.

"Help!" I yell, pressing the palms of my hands against the ceiling above me, the bite of cold from it striking through my tender skin.

My voice is hoarse, unused, scratching painfully at my throat. "Please someone help me!"

A yelp sounds from whatever concrete casing I'm trapped in, and then some frantic mumbling.

I'm not sure what is going on, where I am and how I've come to be without any memory, I just know I need to get out of here and breathe real air.

For a moment there is silence, and then the sound of more talking before everything around me seems to vibrate.

My hands fly to my ears, covering them from the sound of scraping that echoes through the small concrete box.

A small crack suddenly appears in my world of darkness, blinding light streaming in. With my hand draped over my eyes, I lay still until the sound of scraping stops. I can't see anything, and I'm not about to open my eyes to the light.

"Princess, you're alive," someone calls.

My eyes open slowly as I'm helped into sitting position.

My bones ache, as if I've been lying in the same position for hours. The stranger aiding me, grips my elbow tightly, trying to help me up so I'm standing. It takes a moment, my legs trembling on the verge of collapse beneath this dreary white gown I'm draped in.

"Where am I?" I rasp, looking around the unfamiliar space.

We are in a small, concrete room, similar to whatever I just crawled out of. Large bouquets of fresh flowers are littered about, staining the air with a cloying scent.

"You're home, you're alive," the person exclaims. Why do they sound so shocked? I watch them curiously as they push open the door and look outside. "Guards, get the Queen."

Queen?

We are in some kind of courtyard, the light so blaring it's stinging at my skin, at my eyes. I want to crawl back into whatever dingy space I came from and shut out all of these people swarming up towards me.

And the colours...The trees are sagging with pink flowers, fat and blooming, giving off more overwhelming scent. My white dress drags at my feet, the hem stained with the hues of fallen flowers.

The doors to the magnificent building in front of me are thrown open, and a particularly frantic woman emerges, looking on the verge of fainting.

"Avila, my baby!" she calls out, advancing toward me.

Confused, I take a wary step back, but the man beside me holds my forearm tightly. I'm not going to fall, you strange fools.

This woman is beautiful, whoever she is. She has a slender figure, her long obsidian hair cascading down her front, seemingly unbothered by her frantic rush forward toward me. She wears a long dress, like mine, but black. The bodice is lined with lace, flattering her.

She examines the man beside me with a keen eye. "What were you doing creeping through my daughters tomb?"

I look over my shoulder. Is she talking about me?

"I was sweeping Ma'am. I heard her plea for help," the man says, holding my arm out to the woman as if I'm not capable of controlling myself.

The woman grabs me, her hands cold on my clammy skin. She tugs me right into her, the vanilla scent of her perfume making my eyes water.

"Let's get you straight to your bed," she insists, motioning to toward the house. "Call for Roel."

There are few people scattered about, looking at me with wild eyes. One or two run back inside, where the woman holding me tugs me.

This building is stunning, like nothing I've ever seen before. I'm pulled through an extravagant stained glass entrance, the natural pinks of the outside disappearing for a more pale environment inside.

"Who are you?" I question, pulling warily at the woman's grip. She's dragging me about like she knows me.

But I don't know here...

Although I suppose, I don't know anything. My mind draws blank when I think back to anything beyond the dark cave I emerged from.

She looks at me with widened eyes. "I'm your mother."

Gaping at her, I try not to answer to the panic rearing up inside me.

Mother?

How can she possibly be my mother when I've never seen her in my life. Any thought of childhood, if having any interaction with her is lost on me.

"What's going on?" Another unfamiliar voice trills, emerging from an adjoining hallway. "Avila..."

It's an older man, not much taller than me, who is awfully slender and frail in appearance. His hand carved cane knocks against the marbled floor as he approaches quickly, struggling with a lame leg.

Who is Avila? Me?

"She woke up from her tomb," the woman beside me says.

The older man looks beyond bewildered. "How is this possible?"

I would like to know that too. Did I seriously just emerge from a tomb...That was a tomb, right?

Everyone is talking about me like I've risen from the dead, so maybe I have. But that doesn't answer the question of who these people are, where I am, and why I have no memory of anything since I climbed from that...tomb.

"That doesn't matter right now. What matters is she's alive," the women snaps. I look between her and the older man, unable to decipher the relationship between the two.

They climb next to me up the stairs, which sweep around to reveal an exposed upstairs area. I clutch the glossy banister, willing more energy into my legs than what is currently being supplied to them. The woman does a good job of keeping me up, even if her hands are trembling with shock.

"Avila, do you know what's going on?" the man asks, cloudy grey eyes both curious and cautious.

I squeeze my eyes shut, moments from losing my mind. "Stop calling me that!"

Everyone goes silent, staring at me.

Breaking down into tears doesn't seem all that productive, but it's definitely tempting. I don't know who Avila is...If she's me, then I have no recollection of my life to even feel comfortable being referred to as that.

"Okay, why don't you hop in bed," Roel says calmly, eyes flaring as he looks at the woman holding me. I can feel he nod her head, before she steers me down the hallway and into another unfamiliar room.

It's obvious this is meant to be my bedroom, yet I've seen none of this before.

The colours are soft and light, with white walls and white furnishings, my bedspread a soft lavender colour. The room is peaceful, although there is no evidence anyone has ever lived in here. There are no personal belongings, and everything is so perfectly untouched.

I'm helped to the bed, which I wilfully clamber into.

"What do you remember?" the woman asks, sitting next to me in bed.

I watch warily as she adjust the covers around my waist, smoothing them down. She doesn't know what to do with me.

"Nothing," I admit, looking up at Roel, who comes to the other side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. "I have no idea what's going on."

"What do you know?" Roel asks.

Know? I know nothing. I've only known what has occurred since I opened my eyes in that small, cramped room. It's as if I've only just come into existence.

I shake my head.

"Someone must have used magic on her," the woman gasps, gripping my hand, her knuckles as pale as her face. One particularly strong gust of wind looks as though it could blow her off her feet.

"Your name is Avila, and you are nineteen years of age. You are a Princess, in this territory, and this is your mother, Crimson. She is the Queen," Roel explains slowly, so I can absorb the information without fainting from the sheer weight of it.

My throat is dry. Princess? How can I be a Princess when I have no memories? And Crimson is a Queen? She looks like one, even carries herself like one. But how can she be my mother?

"My name is Roel And I work here, as a doctor and as a mentor. You don't need to panic, we are going to take care of you, and help you come to terms with who you are, while we figure out exactly what you remember. Is that okay?"

He speaks so calmly, so kindly, that I can't help but relax.

"We are so happy to have you home, Avila. This is truly a blessing," Crimson murmurs, clutching my hand as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

Home. What a horrifying thought.