The king stood, looking out the large window. War Players-his War Players- trained on the palace grounds. The two war players in his office held a soldier between them, an injured soldier sent to the small town of Fenrir.

"Explain what happened, one more time?"

The soldier gulped. "The healer...I was about to perform an execution, but she knows how to War Play...s-she only played once, and it nearly k-killed me."

The king was silent for a moment. He just stared out the window at the training War Players. Finally, he turned around. "This girl...what is her name?" The soldier shuffled his feet. "From what I heard, your majesty, her name is Lyra. L-Lyra Grey."

The king looked at the soldier for a moment. And then he threw back his head. He laughed. A laugh that would chill you to he bones and make you want to run for your life. It was a laugh. A laugh without mirth, a laugh that was famous among his people. The laugh meant someone would die.

The soldier looked terrified. The king looked down at him. "You have served me well. But, as much as I'd wish, I cannot send you to find this 'Lyra'. But I always award my servants." The soldier looked hopeful. "Y-you do?" The king's face parted in an evil grin. "For your award: you will have a quick and painless death." The soldier's face slowly turned into horror. The king flicked his wrist, and the two War Players dragged the screaming soldier away.

The king smirked. He turned to a servant wielding a small, cheap trumpet. "Send for the girl called Lyra. And hurry, or I'll slit your throat." The terrified servant ran out of the room, trumpeting loudly. The king turned back to the window.

"Perhaps my army will be complete after all. I don't care how, but you will fight in my army, Lyra."

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Sorry about the short chapter people's! I promise the next one will be longer!

-Clo