The locket was made before time, when gods and goddesses, still ruled, and magic still roamed free. A group of nomads had accidentally created the locket, by mixing the magical elements together; water, fire, air, and earth, with the magical brimstone dust, sprinkled on top.
It sat on a golden perch, for three nights, both sun and moon absorbing into the silvery liquid. Finally they said the incantation, hoping and praying for immortality. On the golden perch, the nomads had transformed the silvery liquid into a silver, oval shaped locket. They were angered by this false gift, and disposed of it into the sea.
Little did they know that the locket; contained something very powerful. A goddess stretched forth her hand from the heavens, and lifted up the necklace. She knew that her brother would be drawn to it. For her brother was banished from the heavens, and was looking for revenge; for power.
He was drawn to powerful people and objects and he would destroy heaven and earth, if she didn’t act quickly. So she decided that she would have someone protect it, until she could find a way to destroy it. So she traveled to the far, young kingdom of Avalon. The country was slowly expanding but war was at hand.
The goddess came to Avalon’s king that night, as he was patrolling his territory. A moonlight beam shined down from the moon onto the battered war ground. The king froze in sight as the goddess materialized in front of him. “Good king, do not be frightened, I have come in peace,” she said, her voice gentle and calm, but ringing in his ears, louder than a bell. She held out her hand, the locket lying in her palm.
“Will you protect this,” she asked, her glowing figure shimmering in the silver moonlight. He nodded, transfixed on the beautiful goddess. “But be warned if you use it, I will strike you down, and take caution others are seeking the power as well. Hide it well,” she warned walking back up to the moon. The king then realized she didn’t hand it to him, but as he slid his hand in his pocket, there it was, and as he pulled it out, it glittered with all the beauty of the moon.
The king then got an idea. The next night he awoke his army and, led them to his enemies. They charged; the locket in the king’s fist. But even then as what intended to do, surprised everyone. The locket glowed, and bolts of blinding light flew to the enemy. His army squinted their eyes and the opposing army, was defeated, falling to the ground, blind.
The earth shook, and a voice of thunder boomed. Lightning from nowhere cracked in the black sky. “YOU DARE DEFY ME! YOU MORTAL FOOL! EVIL HAS AWAKENED! YOU SHALL PAY THE PRICE IN DEATH,” bellowed the thunder. The king fled, into the woods, lightening following to strike.
He ran faster, the lightening jumped in front of him, and lit a tree on fire. The tree fell over, blocking his way out. He spun around, going around it. He ran faster, his chest gasping for air. He stopped next to a cold pond; he was sure he was far ahead of the storm. Out of nowhere, lightning striked down from the heavens, clashing with the pond. It glowed, electric blue crystals hardening on the bottom.
He scurried away, racing into unknown trees. The woods were jet black, and he stumbled over himself. The bolts of silver chased after him, zapping his arm. His right arm turned to marble, silver static racing through his hardening veins.
He fell to the mossy floor, engulfed in the raging, stormy night. He lifted the locket and without order, light exploded from it. The tiny pieces of light lit up the darkness. They spewed everywhere clinging to the trees. The thunder roared, the lightning bolts exploding as far as the eye can see. They rained down on him, and he laid still on the ground, his body freezing into marble.
The lightning and thunder died out to nothing but whispers of the breeze. The wind stopped roaring, and blowing away the land. Everything was silent now. The amulet, in the stone king’s hand, turned to dull gray, as if its energy had died out as well. The bushes rustled, shaking. A twig snapped. A short shadow approached the statue.
He turned the corner, the light of the trees revealing his skin color, dark lime green. The goblin knelt down the king’s side, and lifted up the necklace. Even in the dull grayness, the locket, it twinkled once, like a distant star. He tucked it in his pocket, and dragged the statue away. The locket and The King of Avalon were never seen again…