In much fairer and more honest times, a majestic kingdom was the great wonder of the world. With tall walls and towers of white stone, the main castle stood projected out of the center of the surrounding town like a tree in the midst of a great plain. All about the immediate area green grasses, white daisies and roses, and birch trees blossomed up and flourished in the golden sunlight raining from the ever-present blue sky. Nature was full of a great joy over the prospect of being so near to the lovely Queen Arthea. Truly, all who laid eyes on her were left with an explainable delight at her beauty and charming personality. Her laugh, like the ring of tiny bells, was undeniably contagious and full of a pleasant amusement. It seemed to all of mankind that Queen Arthea was an angel descended from the heavens unbeknownst to any of this world. Purifying, it was to one’s soul to stay even one cycle of the sun in the sky within the city’s glistening walls. Indeed, the kingdom of Reolle was a safe haven of paradise against the evilest of onlookers and his fiery wrath.
King Ignuril, the Lord of Hidden Poisons as known to the entirety of his house, was a vengeful man. It was common knowledge that anyone to show even the slightest threat to his power was instantaneously executed and his name exiled. Many a tale is told of Ignuril’s kindly appearance, but each ends with the conclusion of the deep darkness in his heart; no venomous comment is spared he, but each is only dared to be uttered in the quiet of one’s home at the latest of hours. Yes, Ignuril was an evil man, but he was also fully absorbed and preoccupied by an ever-growing and malicious jealousy. This jealousy was aimed toward Queen Arthea and all of her kingdom, and none could douse the raging fire within his spirit. King Ignuril was as hateful and full of spite as Queen Arthea was loving and gentle, for you can not have such a blessing without such a sin in the world. All things come to an end, and the most horrific endings come to the most beautiful lives; not even Roelle was shielded from its inevitable darkness for long.
The Golden Years of Roelle were prosperous, for the whole land during this time seemed to be encased in an endless sunshine with no imperfections of weather. A soft rain would fall overnight, but only in the earliest hours just before the sun rose could be seen any evidence; the tiny droplets would gleam and catch the sunlight in mysterious colors like the gleam of a diamond in sunlight leaving the land sparkling and bright. Just before noon, the land would be dry and bathed in a bright light such as other lands had never seen. Not only was the land of good fortune, but the overall city was rich and merry. Many a song was sang of the wealth of Roelle, and none had not heard of its greatness. Yes, the Golden Years were beautiful, but the end was not pretty. Only one lived to tell the tale who had lived within the city’s walls, and that was Queen Arthea’s son, Prince Soern. The cowardice of Soern brought death upon Roelle, for in the moment of his decision, he doomed all to die.
In the last circuit of seasons of the life of Roelle, Queen Arthea sent Soern out to venture into distant lands to find himself a wife from another kingdom. Soern traveled for the entirety of the dying season before the bitter cold; he had never experienced the dreariness of the outside land and was delayed by heavy rains. Out on Soern’s adventures, he came across the daughter of King Ignuril, Galonne, wandering from her kingdom. Galonne was unlike her wicked father, for she was a delicate rose caught in the middle of a fearsome battle field; she and Soern quickly fell in love upon their meeting. When Soern returned to Roelle, it was with Galonne. The two married in the church of Roelle and had a great celebration in the castle.
King Ignuril, realizing the disappearance of his daughter, quickly put together the pieces and was enraged at Galonne’s betrayal. Ordering the to besiege Roelle, Ignuril began his battle strategy to lock them in until they were lured into a false sense of security, and then attack them at unawares. It was a cruel, ingenious plan that was always executed with such a perfection that the Lord of Hidden Poisons came out on top. Many a kingdom had fallen due to King Ignuril’s wrathful battles, and none had ever come close to defeating he. Errorless were Ignuril’s battles, yet full of error were his ways; it was he who brought down Roelle.
Queen Arthea did not hear of the oncoming battle until it was almost upon the city; she had remained in her halls all the morning of King Ignuril’s approach and had not seen hide nor hair of he. Running frantically about Arthea and her court, a guard hurriedly explained the dire situation and pleaded for her action. At the time, Soern was in the room with his dear Galonne; only the two of them knew of Galonne’s true origin, for Soern had given a different explanation because he knew they would otherwise be forced to separate and prevent war. As the whole court argued over the possible reasons for this sudden proclamation, Galonne and Soern stood off to the side without giving input nor confession: Soern’s first mistake.
The whole of Roelle began to prepare for an ugly war, and none expected the kingdom to survive. The Golden Years had ended without a moments notice, and none were sure exactly why. There were rumors of course, and many were dangerously close to the truth; fearing for his own life, Soern began his plan to flee from the kingdom-he told no one. For many sunrises and sunsets, the treacherous forces of Ignuril sat outside of the gates; they made no move toward violence. After a good amount of time, the people of Roelle began to wonder if war would ever come; then they loosened up and let their guards down. Practically by default, the battle was won by the attackers.
Early one morning, before the sun had the chance to show its face, Ignuril stormed the city and its great walls. Overnight the army had set up kindling all about the beautiful wooden doors leading inside the city. The cold air was dry, and the door went up in flames. Beautiful white stone, stained black from the damage of fire; Ignuril had begun his attack. Not one person was ready for the sudden fight.
King Ignuril’s forces charged through the city with little to no resistance. It was horrible: screaming women and children running from burning homes; men were trying their hardest to gather together and fight back, but each time they were cut down. With each passing minute, King Ignuril came closer to the heart of the city where Queen Arthea lived in her castle. By the time the sun was fully risen, over half of the city was dead, and the army had finally reached the castle. Queen Arthea was standing at the top of a set of smooth, white, stone steps; she was like a goddess with sunlight sitting upon her shoulders. Looking down at King Ignuril, Arthea smiled sadly.
“Good morning, oh king of distant lands,” Queen Arthea speaks in her musical voice.
“You dare to stand before me still as your beloved kingdom falls about you? Dear sister, you never could quite accept a loss,” King Ignuril smirked; a wicked dragon he was. Arthea closed her eyes at the mention of the word ‘sister’.
“I have faith that my city will prevail,” Queen Arthea declared, “evil shall not live in this world as long as good exists.”
“That is simple enough,” Ignuril laughed, “it seems you will simply have to die along with all of Roelle!”
Soern stood to the side watching this exchange; he felt the need to intervene, but he did not have the courage. Suddenly, King Ignuril sprung up the stairs and brought his knife to her throat. Queen Arthea looked at Prince Soern with pleading eyes, but he turned and fled; Soern’s second and final mistake.
Arthea screamed at the retreating back of her only son, and with her final words before Ignuril cut her throat, she cursed all of the land and her son’s name. Then she was dead.
Suddenly, great waters rose over the city’s walls and came crashing down on everyone; the city was destroyed. Prince Soern turned back toward the city when he reached the highest neighboring hill; all he saw was a great ocean. The will of nature to mourn for the death of Queen Arthea was great, but when it was combined with the power of her curse, it had been disastrous. Soern knew instantly that he was the only one from the city to survive; he did not feel the name Roelle fit the city any longer. Gazing out at the endless sea, Soern found a new name for the lost city under the ocean; it was the last word he spoke in those lands ever again.
“Atlantis.”