Omniscient narrator.
Prince Keith awoke with a start to hear a piercing scream in the distance. When he tried to see past his dark hair falling over his eyes, he realized that the world was spinning around him like a whirlwind of blinding lights and distorted sounds.
A feeling of vertigo came over him as he thought he was moving forward. Fortunately it was only an effect of dizziness from having passed through the portal in such poor health.
When he was finally able to open his eyes without feeling like he was falling, the sunlight hit his eyes hard, causing him to blink and put a hand to his forehead to protect himself from its glare. He was lying on the floor, surrounded by wooden crates.
He sat up with difficulty, feeling every muscle in his body protest the exertion. The wounds on his body reminded him of the violent journey through the portal. He felt his ribs and head, where the pain was pounding. Yet, despite the discomfort, he felt grateful to be alive.
He looked around, trying to orient himself in this new place. It looked like an old warehouse, but from the smell of the air it didn't look like it had been left unused for years.
When Keith tried to get to his feet, a stick on his shoulder stopped him. He looked back, meeting the cold gaze of one of the scavengers.
"Stand still there until you're called an audience."
Audience? Of course, he would see the queen of the kingdom of Devereaux, the poorest kingdom on the entire continent due to the high tastes that the queen indulged in with the taxes of the people. And, apparently, the illegal buying of men should also be on his list of whims.
With not much to do, Keith rested his body until finally, another heart-rending scream sounded in the distance, making the hairs on his body stand on end.
"What's going on out there?"
One of them laughed.
"What you don't want to happen to you. Now get up, it's your turn to come in."
Practically being dragged by the scavengers, Keith broke through curtains that connected to another room he hadn't noticed before. Before he could fully detail his surroundings, he was slammed to the ground. The scavengers bowed before speaking.
"My queen," said the masked man, who had not yet shown his face. "We've brought the best merchandise that..."
"Lies!" cried the queen. "These damn bastards who came before you said the exact same thing. Why should I believe you?"
Keith didn't understand what others she was talking about, until he looked up at what appeared to be a throne made of human limbs and, at its feet, a pool of blood so wide it almost reached them. A few feet from that puddle, there was a pile of dying and lifeless men, some of them with limbs torn off, others without their eyes or parts of their skin.
Keith was nauseous to see the scene. Who was this woman? She didn't seem to be a queen, but rather a bloody assassin with sickening pleasures.
Frightened, Keith tried to back off, but every time he tried, he was pushed forward again.
"We brought this one from the kingdom of Lacrontte"
The queen's eyes lit up when she heard where the boy came from. Despite his excitement, it soon dawned on him that this young man was too young for what he had been looking for.
"He is still very young," the queen remarked, rising from her throne.
Keith felt an overwhelming urge to flee when he saw that he had a sharp dagger in his hand, but that rod stopped him again. Soon the queen came to him. She grabbed his chin and smiled.
"You're of no use to me now, kid. What should I do with you?"
There was no response from the prince. He seemed to have become mute. In fact, even the breathing had changed to an irregular one.
The queen held that sharp dagger to Keith's neck. He swallowed thickly, fearing that even such a gentle movement might cause his throat to be slit.
"Are you afraid, little boy?"
The queen drew that dagger even closer. Now the cold edge touched above the internal jugular vein.
"You have no right to be afraid," she snapped, making a quick cut over his vein suddenly. "You're from Lacrontte. Everyone is safe there. Everyone is happy and eating a lot."
Keith held his neck tightly. He felt a large amount of blood pouring out of his body at an overwhelming speed. I was so scared, now I was at the mercy of a madwoman and I would die at her hands.
"What did you do, you damn old woman? It was a prized commodity! If you didn't want it, you just had to say it. There are a lot of people who would have been willing to pay millions of Juixes* for it."
Sael, the healer of the group, tried to grab Keith by the collar of his clothes and drag him away from the queen, but the queen, anticipating his movements, used the power gifted by her god to incinerate him alive. The whole group recoiled as soon as they saw him fall unrecognizable to the ground.
"Get away, you bastards," the queen brandished her dagger, which grew larger and larger, until it formed a sharp sword, in front of the scavengers, and at her feet, bleeding, Keith.
"It's our commodity"
"No, it's mine now," he said, thrusting the sword into Keith's chest.
The young prince tried to cry out in pain, but the cut on his throat had been deeper than he thought and had reached his windpipe. Now he was choking on his own blood as he tried to escape from that cursed queen.
He couldn't die like that, not in that ridiculous way. Not without having taken revenge. Not without killing his father.
Keith didn't know how, but something inside him moved, furious, and he had enough strength to push the queen a few feet away from him. He stood, still with the sword stuck in his chest and one with one of his hands on his throat.
I wouldn't die. Not there.
"Oh, but my little prince of Lacrontte fight for his life."
Keith stopped. The queen smiled.
"Did you think I didn't know? You've got that stench of power permeated into your skin. Skin I'm going to rip off"
A great flare came out of the queen's fingers, but when it died out there was not a tiny hair of Keith burned. It was intact. Intact and bloodthirsty.
"What are you talking about?" asked Keith. Something wasn't right with him, the queen could sense it and that's why she backed away. That power... It was hellish. "I am not who you think I am"
"You are the prince..."
Before she could go back any further, Keith, the boy who had been informed at the request of the King of Lacrontte that he was his son and that he could slaughter him as he pleased, grabbed her by the neck, and that grip burned her skin, making her scream until her throat ached.
"I'm not him," Keith said, "The prince is dead."