A World He Could Call His Own

It was a bloody horror. Blood gushed out of Yoral’s chest as the sword found its haven in his sternum. A helpless, horrid grunt broke through his lips, breaking the silence of the palace. He desperately clung on to the hilt of the sword; he clung on to his dear life. A weary look- difficult to read through the agony- at his son and that was the end of His Majesty’s life.
Gantarro looked down at his father’s limp body with pride for he had been waiting for this very moment since a long time. It was more than just pride, it was satisfaction, it was heartlessness, it was pure cruelty. He remembered the golden rule of his father: Be proud.
“I am proud, father,” he said with a grin. “But are you?” He laughed a wicked, yet, hearty laughter of cruel celebration and joy.
A cry echoed through the halls of the empty palace as the queen rushed towards her dead husband. An angry lion was right by her side as Trema knelt beside Yoral, her eyes welling up with sour tears. She looked up at her son, her moist eyes mixed with emotions: distress, disgust, anguish, desperation- all at their peaks.
“What did you do?” Her voice was cracking up. Tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably.
“My condolences, Ma.” Gantarro simply said, grinning.
She stood up, fearlessly facing the to-be-king. “I said, WHAT DID YOU DO?” Her eyes flared up. As her voice rose, the lion snarled angrily at him too.
“Whoa,” he mock-feared. “Calm down, Ma.”
“This isn’t the first time you killed, is it?” His grin, his confidence made this point crystal clear to Trema. “You were the one who killed your brother. You killed him. You killed my son. And now, you killed your own father. Why, Gantarro, why are you doing this?”
“They were obstacles,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I don’t jump them, I destroy them.”
“Obstacles for what? The throne?”
“Oh! You wouldn’t understand, Ma. It’s too complicated. They were collateral damage.”
Trema stared into Gantarro’s eyes, speechless. He kept grinning. Finally, she managed to speak, her voice determined to search for answers she knew she would not get. “Who are you?” She just could not believe it. “My son wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t kill anyone, let alone his own kin. My Gantarro wouldn’t have done this. Who in the world are you?”
Gantarro just smiled warmly. One never would have thought he just killed his father when he smiled just like he did that moment. That smile spoke a lot. It spoke of hope, of faith, of love. But that warmth lasted only for a fraction of a second that Trema thought she had just imagined that. It changed back into the same evil grin in no time. “I like you, Ma. I always did. That’s why I spared you,” he glanced icily at the mighty beast. “And your little kitty.”
“I don’t need any mercy from you, you monster.” Trema’s voice, along with the little kitty’s mighty roar was enough to shatter the windows of the palace. Shivering with anger, Trema took a deep breath and regained her composure: of the queen that she was. Calmly, yet disturbingly, she said, “You think it’s over, don’t you?”
“Over?” Gantarro smirked. “Oh, Ma. I told you wouldn’t understand. It hasn’t even started yet.”
“Why, you filthy little piece of- “
“Let’s cut the swears, Ma.”
Trema had long since stopped shedding tears. She was welling up with rage now. Rage that was burning her up from the inside. Rage that was consuming her. She kept staring into Gantarro’s eyes, trying to dig deeper into his soul, searching for the boy she had raised. Gantarro, however, kept grinning, savoring the amusing look on his mother’s face. He then stepped forward, close to her and said, “I don’t have all day, Ma. I got work to do. I need to go.”
“What do you have to do? Kill the whole city?”
“Oh, that? I’ve taken care of that. Just in case you haven’t noticed, it’s awfully quiet outside, don’t you think?”
Trema was dumbstruck with rage and distress. She felt helpless. Yet, she closed her eyes and willed all her power into her words. With utmost power, she cried out:

          “Revenge shall decide your fate
                A new era it shall create
           Darkness shall have to retreat
        By the Bloodswords’ greatest feat
                 This curse, I, Trema lay
       As I rot and wait for your Doomsday.”

Gantarro felt a gust of wind by his ears as the curse was bestowed upon him. He recovered as Trema collapsed. The lion roared in pain, unable to move. His grin crawled its way back into his face. Turning away from the mess, he walked towards the door.
“Hmph… Someone’s going to create my fate? Now that’s hysterical,” he retorted, though a little bit too late. He stepped out of the palace and walked into a new world: a world he could call his own.