The Tale of King Korak and Agonda

The ground trembles.
You are forced to think an earthquake is near. You are wrong.

The ground trembles with the sound of seven hundred drums being beaten with excellent coordination. The young prince is to be crowned today in Oxzerd, the heart of the country.
The people are the most euphoric you will ever find them. Finally someone will become their king who they do not secretly loathe. As the news spreads that their soon-to-be-king is going to walk through in a very short duration of time, a loud roar of cheer spreads across Oxzerd. The ground trembles again.

The ground trembles.
Memories of your psychiatrist telling you (with concern) you might be a person who hallucinates very often come flashing fast like a bolt of lightning. You are forced to think you are hallucinating. You are wrong.

The priests can be seen running and preparing with full determination so that nothing can go wrong. They can be clearly identified because of their shining tonsures, now covered with the sweat of realization that their king will be here very soon.
As the loudness of the cheers increase, the drums get beaten even faster and the speed of the running priests increase, the ground trembles even harder.

The ground trembles.
‘This is just a dream, just a long dream’, you say to yourself.
You are wrong.

The time has arrived and so has the prince. He walks with a hint of proud in his eyes and love in his smile. Amidst the cheers, flowers, music and priests, he finally reaches the throne. The crown is brought after all the rituals and ceremonies are completed; the malachite attracts the whole crowd and makes them gasp with awe.
Before he is crowned, the prince shares a few mere words’
‘I, King Korok, am feeling honoured to be given a chance to serve as your king.’
The crowd roars with enthusiasm and King Korok knows he need not say another word.

The oldest priest picks up the crown.
A sudden change occurs. The wind suddenly gets so cold that it seems as if knives are piercing the skin. The sky grows dark and little shards of ice come falling down. As the halitosis spreads, the people come to know who it is. Soon enough, the dragon is in sight.
People are screaming and running with fear. Fear of what will happen next. The ground trembles.

The ground trembles. Harder than the last three times.
A normal person would rush back home, after all it is three seventeen in the morning. But you don’t. You want to decide whether this is a hallucination, a mere dream, or unreal reality. And you wait for it to happen again.

The death of Icimorg had come as a huge shock to his kin. Young Agonoda felt most miserable. It was then that he had sworn an oath to kill anyone related to Jack Zephlea. He had waited and waited. Apparently no one related to Zephlea was alive. After what seemed like a lifetime to Agonoda, news came that a young prince named Korok was related to Zephlea and was to be crowned with all glory. And the dragon had come flying down all the way from Impellon to Oxzerd.

The tale of Icimorg and Zephlea: http://expressionaleden.com/index.php/2016/08/11/the-tale-of-icimorg-and-zephlea/

***

The people are still screaming. The unpleasant sound agitates Agonoda even more. He comes flying down just in front of King Korok, who has a look on his face clearly stating he has no idea as to what is happening.
King Korok finds himself in a deadlock as the dragon glances at him and then at the crown. He can clearly see the malachite on the gold crown being reflected in Agonoda’s misty grey eyes. It does not come as a surprise to the King. Everybody knows dragons love gold and all things that have lustre.

Agonoda does not deviate from his oath. He first kills King Korok, then the priests and then every alive creature and human he sees.
Oxzerd is filled with bloodshed and no one has survived. As the dragon stands on all fours after putting the crown on his head and starts to laugh, the ground trembles.

The ground trembles. 
You have come to decide that what is happening is just a dream and you will wake up soon.
You are wrong.

– Shreya Sharma

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