EPISODE 1 – RETURN OF DRACONUS, PART 1

Leaves and twigs crackled beneath her feet as she made her way through the dense forest. Songbirds lilted and chirped in the air and thin beams of sunlight filtered through the branches above, letting her know that she still had time left in the afternoon before she had to hurry back and sneak into the castle before she would be missed.

Ella clutched the loose folds of her gown, careful to avoid tripping over it as she traversed fallen logs and skipped over patches of moss and leaves. She looked in all directions, alert and focused. She had been wandering the forest for nearly two hours now, and her time of freedom was running short. Where was he?

"Alistair?" she called out, hoping to hear a response, but all she heard back was the soft whisper of wind through the trees and the gentle sounds of a small brook lapping the banks of a gulley nearby.

"Alistair, where are you?" Ella tried calling again, a slight edge of frustration in her voice. It wouldn't be long before her father sent one of his many employees to come and check on her and if the king knew she had sneaked out of the castle, she would surely be punished.

Thinking the entire journey through the forest had been a total waste of time, Ella turned and began a sullen trip back to the castle, defeated and dejected. She'd hoped she would get to spend some quality time with Alistair, considering that if she was seen with him anywhere in the kingdom, she would instantly be put under scrutiny, by not only the entire royal family, but the community at large as well.

Sighing deeply, she trudged onward, not even caring anymore when stray flecks of dirt and mud splashed up onto the hem of her dress. But then, a pair of cool, smooth hands pressed over her eyes, pulling her back against a firm, muscular body. Ella gasped, grabbing her would-be attacker's elbows.

"Ella, relax!" a familiar voice called out, and she spun around to face Alistair, sighing in relief. Her handmaidens were always warning her about the dangers that lurked out in the woods, but Ella would never listen to them. She would face any fear for the chance to be face to face with Alistair. "It's me, my princess."

"Don't call me that," Ella mumbled nervously, fiddling with the loose strands of her wild, curly red hair that had begun to come loose from the beautiful braid one of her handmaidens had woven for her that morning after breakfast. Alistair caressed her fair cheeks, his kind brown eyes crinkling with a smile. "You know that's not who I really am."

"You can't deny what you are," Alistair said softly. Ella looked deep into his eyes, then down at their feet. Hers, encased in the finest, bejeweled slippers in the kingdom of Elnor, his in ratty, tattered work boots, singed by the stray embers of a blacksmith shop. He pulled her chin back up to face him. "None of us can."

"That's easy for you to say," the princess replied defiantly. "You've always known exactly who you are." She clasped the outside of his hands, still gently cupping her face. She longed for him to kiss her, but she knew that time was running out and it wouldn't be long before people around the castle began to notice her absence.

"Being a blacksmith isn't all there is to me," Alistair clarified with a chuckle.

"I know," Ella said, as if that was the point she had made. "You don't have this weight on your shoulders. I'm expected to be somebody…important. Somebody who is a leader. But that isn't me. I'm not a leader."

"We all have ways of making a difference," Alistair said, pulling at a strand of her hair playfully, before brushing her cheek with a soft, gentle kiss. "Speaking of, isn't today some sort of important day for you?"

Ella sighed, tugging away from his embrace, despite feeling so comfortable there. He had brought up an important point, one she had secretly been trying to avoid for several days. Her father was planning to break new ground on a new castle today, one that would eventually be her own home after she came of age.

"I can't stand all of the attention," Ella mumbled uncomfortably. "Everyone in the kingdom will be staring at me."

"Including me," Alistair reminded her, giving her that smile that made her stomach want to do flip flops and made her knees go weak. "I'll be watching you very closely, indeed, Princess Ella. My princess."

Ella blushed, hating the name, but loving how it made her feel when he said it.

Deep within the bowels of King Elias's castle, the kitchen was bustling with activity and buzzing with excitement. Maids, butlers, servants and cooks fluttered in all directions to and fro, moving in and out of the massive, stone kitchen and hurrying off into other parts of the castle to do their daily chores.

Meanwhile, Raven was knee-deep in vegetable skins and peels, her arms and fingers a flurry of movement as she sliced, diced and chopped. As the youngest assistant chef for the royal family, she knew the meaning of hard work, and never let the pressure get to her. She had been working in the castle ever since she'd been a child, and despite never actually meeting any of the royal family face to face, she loved her job.

"How are my sauces coming?" Raven called over to one of the line cooks. An older woman with withering silver hair and wrinkled skin lowered her face over a boiling pot, breathing deep as she continuously stirred the dark liquid within.

"Slowly," the cook replied grimly.

Raven kept chopping, sighing deeply. She and the entire staff were working double time preparing for the ground-breaking ceremony and the reveal for the plans for the additional castle that would be built in honor of Princess Ella, the sole heir of the kingdom. Time was not a luxury that they could afford to bear, and Raven knew that if she didn't figure something out quickly, everything would be ruined.

"You look like you could use some help," a voice called from across the kitchen. Raven looked across the cavernous room and saw a shock of wild, wavy brown hair sticking out above a massive pile of dough, tiny flecks of flour sprinkled throughout the strands. The head attached to the unmanageable mop of thick brown hair popped up over the dough, revealing the Cheshire cat grin of Silas, the baker boy.

"Don't you have a pie to bake, Silas?" Raven snapped, feeling edgy.

"Oh, I've been done for hours," Silas replied, leaning an elbow into the soft, mushy mound of dough lain out on the table before him, sinking into it just slightly. "I'm just here to watch you and see if you actually finish on time."

Undeterred by Silas's ribbing, Raven continued chopping, mincing carrots into tiny shreds, chopping onions into fine strands and slicing cucumbers into perfect, thin circles. She blew a stray strand of light blond hair out of her face, focusing on the task before her. She knew that if she didn't complete this feast, the king would be very disappointed.

"This is hopeless," one of the cooks wailed, checking one of the massive turkeys roasting in the fires of the stone oven. "Nothing is ready yet!"

Raven straightened her apron, wiping stray bits of food and creams off the fabric, standing up straight, a defiant look in her eyes.

"We are going to finish," she declared. She shot a venomous look towards Silas, who continued to leer at her from the other side of the kitchen with that goofy grin he always seemed to have plastered on his face. "And without any help, either."

Silas propped his elbows on the table before him, leaning his chins into his open palms, chuckling softly as Raven continued to prepare for the feast. He knew that Raven was under a lot of pressure, but he just couldn't resist poking fun at her. It was just too easy.

"Let me know if you change your mind," he offered, winking. He began to walk out of the main kitchen and back into his baking room, where he would do one last run through of checking all of the various cakes, pies, cookies and desserts he and his team had been slavishly preparing for the kingdom.

"Never gonna happen!" Raven called out, determined as ever. With a grunt of exertion, she lifted a giant bowl up onto the counter before her and started mixing all of the ingredients together she'd been preparing. She would finish this, and she would do it all by herself. Of that, she was absolutely sure.

She hoped.

Wesley watched through the window of his cobbler's shop as the villagers of Elnor began to crowd the streets, heading towards King Elias's castle for the massive festival that was due to take place later that day. He was whittling away on the soles of some boots for one of the king's guardsman, sweat trickling down his temples.

"I want to go to the festival," he mumbled to himself in a faux baby voice.

"'No, you have to keep working'," he replied in another, gruff voice. "'You're never allowed to have any fun. You have to work, work, work!"

Sighing, Wesley looked down at the boots he was working on, and for what felt like the millionth time, imagined what his life would be like if he hadn't been born a commoner, just the son of a cobbler, made to work day and night to help support the family. He wished that he was preparing the boots for himself, so he could be one of the brave guards of the castle, brandishing a sword and shield, serving the King.

Alas, that life was for somebody else. Not puny, weak little Wesley. Wesley the Wimp, other kids in the village called him. He was smaller than the other guys his age, and had never developed muscles and toned features like some of the other young men. Young men who would someday try out to be guards and archers and knights for the king.

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Wesley's father asked, emerging from the back of the shop, laden down with a giant pile of various shoes belonging to the villagers they lived amongst. Some of them were even from the castle. "You know you should be focusing on your work, Wesley. Not on all of those strange fantasies in your head."

"They aren't fantasies, father," Wesley replied softly.

"What's that?" his father demanded, setting the shoes down on a nearby work bench. His large, square shoulders and his imposing figure made Wesley shrink back, clutching the guard's boot close to his chest. "I'm not sure I heard you."

The tone of his voice made it perfectly clear how he really didn't want to hear what Wesley had actually said. All his father really cared about was work, and pleasing the customers. He didn't believe anything else existed outside of this shop. He didn't believe that you could chase a dream or aspire to be something more.

"Nothing," Wesley mumbled, lowering his face. His father grunted in approval, and something deep inside of Wesley called out to him. He wasn't going to be like his father. He was old enough now to make his own choices. He could be anything he wanted to be. He stood up and dropped the boot. "No. You know what? It wasn't nothing."

Wesley's father looked at him, surprised.

"I'm going to the festival, father," Wesley continued, and his father's eyes widened. "I know you want me to stay here and work, but I can't stop wanting to live my life because you said so. I have to go out into the world."

His father was silent for a moment, and Wesley was afraid of what might happen next. Would he yell, would he throw something?

"You know something, boy," his father intoned. "You're right."

Wesley could have been knocked over by a feather. He couldn't believe what he was actually hearing! Had his father actually listened to him? Had he actually agreed with him? Maybe this was all it took, to stand up to him and show him that he was becoming a man of his own, now.

"I…I am?" Wesley sputtered.

"Yes," his father said gravely, nodding. "I think it is time for you to go out into the world. And I see now that you were never really a part of this family. It's time for you to leave, and you must never come back."

Wesley gasped in shock. But shock became resignation. This may not have been what he was expecting, or even wanted, but if he was ever going to go out into the world and live his life the way he had always dreamed, this might be his only chance. He let the guard's boot topple to the floor and stood.

He approached the door, leading outside into the wide, open world that now seemed to be beckoning Wesley into its embrace.

"Goodbye, father," he whispered. As he left the shop, feeling as though he sun was touching his skin for the first time, he no longer felt like Wesley the Wimp. This was the start of an entirely new life for him. What it would bring, he had no idea. He would miss his family, of course, but sometimes, Wesley knew that you had to make a sacrifice to get what you wanted.

And so, with his father's voice ringing in his ears, Wesley made his way out into the village, the great King Elias's castle looming above him far in the distance. He joined the excited throngs of people happily making their way towards the festival, and for the first time in what felt like years, Wesley smiled.

Hundreds of people had gathered in a large clearing, not far from the main castle, where a large wooden stage had been erected for the royal family to preside over their kingdom. Ella sat next to her father, along with other appointed figures of the royal family, with cousins and her and aunts and uncles filling the rest of the chairs. She looked over the crowd, searching for Alistair, knowing she would feel better after seeing him.

And there he was, shouldering his way through the crowds, trying to get as close as possible to the stage. Immediately, a smile took over her face, and she felt at ease. She always hated being a part of these types of royal events, especially one that turned the focus onto her. She never wanted to be a princess. She never wanted to be a ruler.

"People of Elnor," her father, the mighty King Elias, intoned, standing from his temporary throne. He looked very regal in his finely woven robes, the delicate crown gently nestled amongst his fiery red curls, so similar to Ella's own. "Thank you for coming to witness this glorious occasion."

The villagers and royal supporters alike cheered and cried out in excitement. In moments like this, all ideas of class and wealth were set aside for the support of the kingdom. If anything could be said about Elnor, it was that its people were very supportive and dearly loved their king and his family.

"As you all know, my dear daughter Ella is soon to come of age," Elias continued, proudly presenting Ella to the crowds. She blushed, smiling, but embarrassed. She rose from her seat to an uproar of applause and cheers, and managed to catch Alistair's line of sight as he whistled and clapped for her. "As she begins her journey into adulthood and claims her right to one day be Queen of Elnor, we are gathered here to witness the groundbreaking of her very own castle, which will be built in this very spot!"

Once again, the people of Elnor went absolutely crazy. The excitement was nearly too much for them all to bear. Ella couldn't believe that they were getting so worked up over something that, to her, seemed so silly. They were making such a big deal out of this. But, she supposed, that many of them were living vicariously through this moment.

"I call on my guards, for the ceremonial ground breaking," Elias called, motioning for the impeccably dressed guards to circle around a large patch of dirt that had been perfectly circled in the ground before the stage. The guards withdrew their swords, pointing them into the sky, the sunlight glinting off the metal blades. "With this, we embark on our future. The future of Elnor, and the future of my beloved daughter, Princess Ella!"

At once, all twelve gathered guards stabbed their swords into the ground, the blades sinking deep below the surface of the earth. For a moment, there was only silence. But then, something strange occurred.

A great, bellowing roar bubbled up from beneath the ground. The onlookers surrounding the sight began to mumble amongst one another, edging away from the site of the future castle. The ground began to quake and rumble. The guards seemed to be unable to release their grips on their swords. A crackle of electricity shot up from the ground, jumping from blade to blade, sending each of the guards flying back, propelled by the charge.

Many people cried out or screamed, and some began to run. Ella rushed to the edge of the stage, trying to get a closer look at what was going on. She saw Alistair helping one of the guards get back to his feet, and that he had toppled over several people when he'd been flung back into the crowds.

"Oh no," Ella whispered. Something was coming. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew it wasn't going to be something good.

On the other side of the ground breaking site, Raven and Silas stood next to the feast that was being presented for the entire kingdom. They watched as the guards struck their swords into the ground, and saw the flash and crackle of lightning as the blades pierced the earth.

"What was that?" Raven cried, rushing around to the front of the table, Silas hot on her heels. They were being bombarded by a stampede of villagers attempting to escape the melee. One of the guards was tossed to his back nearby, and he struggled to get to his feet again, his uniform scorched and scratched.

"Are you alright?" Silas asked, kneeling next to the guard. He was stunned speechless, unable to make any sounds. Silas looked up at Raven, shrugging his shoulders. Raven cupped a hand over her forehead, staring back out into the masses. The electricity was growing between the swords, pulsating into a brighter light, growing into a massive form.

"Something is coming out of the ground!" she exclaimed.

The two of them came to stand shoulder to shoulder, staring into the crackling lights of the energy that was growing into a column of swirling beams of lightning. Shadows moved within them, and they almost looked…alive.

"Are you seeing this?" Silas breathed. Raven couldn't look away. She could only nod, knowing that Silas's eyes were also fixed on the swirling energy as well.

Whatever was coming, it was about to be here soon.

Wesley was jostled left and right by hundreds of villagers fleeing from the festival, running away in abject terror. He pushed his way through the crowds, desperate to see what all of the commotion was about. He wasn't about to let his first adventure out into the real world be prematurely ended because something scary had happened.

He reached the site of the festival and saw as more villagers attempted to escape that some sort of column of bright, yellow and gold energy was bursting from the ground, swirling ominously above the terrified villagers. He saw a young man with shoulder-length brown hair and a leather tunic helping a group of frightened children get away from the bolts of crackling energy that were being dispelled.

"What is that?" Wesley cried. The young man spun to face him, his kind eyes furrowed in concentration and focus.

"You'd better get out of here!" he called out. "It's not safe here!"

In that moment, brilliant bolts of lightning exploded from the swirling mass of energy, spreading across the crowds like darts. One of them went straight into the king's chest, sending him flying backwards off the stage. Wesley saw Princess Ella scream in horror, sinking to her knees to avoid another stray bolt.

"Ella!" the young man in the tunic screamed. Wesley followed him as he rushed past the energy towards the stage. They were joined by two others, a young blond girl covered in various bits of food and a boy with unruly hair dusted with flour. "We have to save her!"

The four of them converged on the stage as more bolts shot out of vortex, striking various guards and villagers, sending them tumbling and cavorting across the ground like playthings being tossed about by a giant child.

A flaming sword emerged from the energy beams, slicing it open.

"Alistair!" Princess Ella called out, climbing to the edge of the stage. He reached up and grabbed her by the shoulders, tugging her down to join the group.

"I've got you," Alistair said softly, pulling her close.

"My father -," she started to say, but the blond girl interrupted her.

"Look!" she screamed. The others followed her command and saw that the energy was finally beginning to dispel, revealing a truly terrifying sight. A massive half-human, half-lizard looking creature now stood before them, brandishing the flaming sword. He wore metallic bits of armor held together with pleated leather, and his skin was made of dry, peeling scales. His face protruded into a snout, like a dragon, filled with venomous looking fangs. His hands ended in spindly fingers topped with razor sharp claws. Next to him was a dangerously beautiful but dark specter of a woman with a waterfall of deep, dark black hair spilling over her shoulders. She was cinched into a tight black leather corset that led down into a multi-layered black and gray dressed. Her eyes were aglow with a deep, fiery red.

"At last!" the lizard-man growled. "We have returned! Now the kingdom of Elnor will pay for ever trying to defeat the mighty Draconus!"

With a blast of swirling energy, he began to swing his massive flaming sword towards the five youths huddled before him. They braced themselves, knowing their ends surely must be near. As the blade hurtled towards them, everything turned a bright, brilliant white.

And then…blackness.

TO BE CONTINUED…