Runes of the Kingdom’s End

Once every hundred years glowing runes appear on the wrist of the one destined to rule the kingdom.

I was standing in the crowd just watching because I wasn't even supposed to exist.

No birth record. No family. No past. When the runes burned into my skin the

square went silent. The royal seer dropped to her knees screaming, not because I was chosen but because

the symbols on my wrist weren't written in the language of kings. They were written

in the language that only appears right before a kingdom is erased from history. I wasn't chosen

to rule. I was chosen to end everything.