Flames licked at the walls of the castle. Banners burned and armor melted. Thick smoke flooded the halls making it impossible to search for an exit.
Word spread throughout the town of the fire. Soon all the townspeople stood outside their homes watching the devastation. It had long been rumoured that the royal family dabbled in the black arts, and used this magic to control the townspeople. Whenever something happened that was unexplained or actions that were out of character, the blame would always be place on the ruling monarchs. Now their reign would be brought to an end and they will suffer for the crimes that they committed against the people.
No one knew who had the gall to go through with the fire. Sure there had been secret discussions about ways to throw off the chains of tyranny. Meetings were held in barns and attics, away from the eyes and ears of the family. Mr. Gore do had talked about poison and Lady Madris spoke of hangings. Everyone now and then, someone would suggest a good old fashioned fire, but this type of talk was just that: talk. Apparently, someone felt it was time to do more than talk. Someone took action.
A terrible crash echoed through the town as the great clock tower fell. It was then that wind began to take hold of the people. Glowing specks of light fell upon the townspeople. All of the magic from the family was ending and they were finally being freed of the spells. Neighbors looked at each with smiles as they realized this is what they had been hoping for after so many years. The end of the magic.
Lady Madris was the first who began to scream.
“No! What is happening?”
Soon cries began to echo throughout the town. Mr. Dirthon looked over at his wife who clung desperately to their children. Her legs were gone. Little Timothy sobbed as his hands began to dissolve along with his lower half.
From house to house, family members began to disappear in a whirlwind of amber lights and smoke. At dawn, the fire was extinguished and the land was deserted.
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