Crownless

This is a day that would live on forever. Because this is the day that marked their peaceful kingdom’s mortality. Most days that bring foreboding omens are thought to begin on a dark, stormy night. You know the kind, with arcs of lightning piercing through the inky blackness, resounding thunder that first cracks then rumbles as if through your very core, and torrents of rain lashing down upon the earth. But that is not how the story goes. It just so happens that this tale began on the first of many heartwarming spring days. A young couple strolled arm in arm engulfed by the heady aroma of blooming magnolias, enthralled simply by one another’s presence. The man was exceedingly tall, so much so that his head and shoulders permanently leaned slightly forward—as if stuck from constantly speaking to someone shorter than himself (which in truth was probably a contributing factor). Like most Looians his eyes were a rich brown and his hair dark as ebony, contrasting with the pale skin of their people. His wife held the same basic features only she was of a more average height and had dark hair so curly that it would have cascaded down her shoulders like onyx ringlets, if such long hair had not been in strict violation of Looian tradition. Though seemingly unremarkable individuals, their fine clothes and trailing bodyguards begged to differ. These people, like all Looians, were logical and organized, rejecting that which couldn’t be explained and did not fit into their simple sheep-herding society. So it was rather uncharacteristic when the couple got caught up in a flight of fancy, as lovebirds are wont to do, and approached the tent of a travelling mystic. The mystic was instantly recognized as an outsider by her brightly colored attire, gaudy jewelry, and her hair, which was golden and bounced unbound past her shoulders.