Black Moon Draw

He had dismissed the warnings as improbable out of what appeared to be sheer pride, for no one had ever taken the hold at Black Moon Draw. Tomorrow was the full moon, which meant his kingdom fell the day after, taking with it the entire realm, engulfed by a curse he had no way of stopping without the battle-witch.

The other thought torturing him was one he did not entirely expect.

His battle-witch left his side and protection willingly. He offered her the kingdom - and she left him. Was it her prediction that he died in the upcoming battle? A sign she did not share his feelings? Or was she acting out of fear for her own safety, mayhap frightened by the idea of facing the curse?

Why did it matter why she chose to leave?

For the second time in recent days, he experienced a cold jolt of what could only be fear.

It seemed impossible for him to have been so thoroughly routed before the battle with his enemy even began. With no army and no battle-witch, a city void of people, and two days before the end of the world, his chances of saving his realm had never seemed bleaker.

Determined, he swallowed the desperation creeping into his thoughts and began to think about what advantages he still held.

I will go down fighting. There was no longer any reason to maintain what restraint he had.

His resolve lasted until he set foot into his hold and saw the empty streets of his home. He had ventured thrice before to his city. Knowing what was there did not make it easier to visit. Dismounting, he stood on the smooth stone road leading from the gate into the heart of his city, dread settling deep into his soul, rattling him in a way he had never experienced.

The streets were silent - but not empty. Men, women, and children - frozen in place the day the battle queen placed a spell upon the realm - crowded the streets, merchants' alleys, and domiciles of the city. A hundred thousand souls and not a one of them were alive.

He wove among them, taking in their features in the moonlight. For a thousand years, they had been statues, waiting patiently for their ruler to rescue them. From the tiniest babe held against her mother's bosom to the guards on the wall, each was perfectly preserved in the white stone of the cliffs.

Not even a small contingent of men guarded a haunted city filled with stone inhabitants. No one living had occupied the city for almost a thousand years, the magic contained in the hold at its center turning anyone who remained more than a day or two into stone. Any man who managed to escape before then went mad, and no one who entered the hold at its center had ever left.