The Winter Court existed beneath Mount Erwin, just north of Orlon. He was here to meet their Queen—Verena. Once he was at the base of the ranges, he was blindfolded by two guards and dragged into their enchanting world. He wondered what had happened to his horse. It had been two days, and his world had not faced the demons since.
And he knew if there was a way to eradicate such a dire threat: only Verena would know. She was as ancient as the world itself. She was alive all those centuries ago when his ancestors had defeated the demons that Oriph had unleashed.
So, now the Prince of the Western Continent knelt before the icy queen of the elves. He knew this was her world, where his will did not work. All around him, these enchanted creatures danced, almost as if they were cursed. He had noted some were humans, trapped here forever. He had visited Verena when he was a child, alongside his father. But only once.
He only rose when he was asked to, and still he kept his eyes low. He could observe her silky cloth, spilling like blood all over the dias.
"I heard of the princess' passing." She said, as a matter of fact. His eyes met her empty gray ones, threatening gray ones. "Is that why you are visiting me, Prince?" Her legs were crossed, and her fingers interlaced. A circlet of gold held on lazily to her thick head of hair. Beside her, courtiers knelt—offering her some sort of bright colored fruits he had never encountered. This was her courtroom and it was vast. It was much bigger than the one in the castle, much much bigger. And it was all ice. It felt like his skin would freeze, and only the Queen's will kept him alive.
"Verena, you knew." He accused her plainly. "You knew there would be an outbreak, and you escaped just in time." It was all too suspicious that she would give up an opportunity to torture him.
"Escaped?" Her lips quirked up. She looked offended. "I could've slaughtered them all in a heartbeat."
"You left us to die. You could've saved us all." He saw his sister's butchered head. He saw a dozen corpses. But he regretted even making that absurd statement.
"Saved you?" She laughed, "I don't owe your kind anything." She was right. And he was not here to argue with her. That would, in fact, land him in one of the dungeons of her lair.
"Certainly." He said calmly.
She angled her head, "Come here." She beckoned. He took hesitant steps towards her, until he was before her—her courtiers sneering at him. But she did not give him an opportunity to look down at her. "Kneel." She commanded, and swallowing his pride, he obeyed. Her fingers reached below his chin, forcing him to look up to her. "Now tell me why you are here."
He inhaled the cold air, "My lady," He addressed her carefully, "my kingdom has fallen into distress as demons threaten to break the peace—"
"Your Kingdom fell into distress the moment Thaddeus Ravenswood took the Royal scepter." She interrupted.
"—I assume you know a way to seal the demons." He continued. "You are wise, and old—" She clicked her tongue as the word old escaped his mouth. He almost rolled his eyes. "Old in age, not in face." He specified.
She smiled, her fingers digging deeper until blood trickled down his throat. His composure did not falter.
"And if I tell you how." She said, wiping her bloodied fingers against the fur of his cloak. "What will you give me?" And that was the worst thing one could do: make a deal with an elf. But he knew it would come to this.
There were two options: Anything, Everything.
Anything was too stupid. Everything was too threatening.
So he answered, "Whatever it is that you desire the most, my lady."
She leaned forward, and her fingers trailed below. They drew lazy circles on his chest, close to his heart. "What I desire the most," She licked her lips, "You already possess. And when time comes, you will give it to me." She said, "Or I will have it either way."
He swallowed, his throat bobbing in fear. He weighed two things: his people and the Elf Queen's desire. Unknown desire. It could be anything, but he had already lost everything that mattered to him. Serria was dead. There was nothing that he possessed that mattered to him anymore. The only way that he could avenge her was to burn these demons—seal them back to where they belong. Hell.
"How do I seal the demons?" He asked Verena again. And she smiled, a devil's smile. Like she had won.
The Queen snapped her fingers, and the world around him shifted. Everything blurred, shook and shifted around him. He had to drive his fists onto the floor, struggling to get a grip.
The ground below him changed from the cold marble to dusty earth. There was blood, on the rough wretched ground. He looked up from the ground to see a man—a striking man with pale skin and golden eyes. He was breathing heavily, struggling, bleeding, there were wounds—fatal wounds. But he wasn't dying—he knew. The light in his eyes roared still.
There was a woman kneeling before him, her back facing Arechin. He couldn't see her, but he could make out that she was crying. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. Before her lay the man.
"What is this, Verena?" He asked, getting up to stand beside her.
"Watch." She simply said.
And so he did.
This was a battlefield—and there were demons. Everywhere. On the ground, on the wind, tearing apart mortal soldiers. The dark clouds threatened to cry for the dead.
"Emrys!" A light haired man came running into Arechin's line of vision. His green eyes were similar to Serria's, to Kaien's. They were the lightest shade of forest green. "Emrys, you have to do it! There's not enough time!"
"Arwan, stand back." The woman cried out. She hiccuped. "Just a bit longer."
"Curse you, Oriph." Arwan grit out, kneeling before the dark lord. Emrys cupped the wounded man's face. The man smiled, and there was something malicious about the intent behind his smile.
Emrys. Arwan. Oriph. Demons.
They were in the past—hundreds of years ago. When Oriph Versapan had allied himself with demons to conquer the world. But he was sealed away, with the demons. In hell. The Light Alliance, led by Emrys Versapan, the Queen of Arlin and Arwan Ravenswood, the King of Eltarin—was formed as a regressive power to oppose the dark lord, Oriph—King Consort of the Queen of Arlin. But defeating Oriph was no easy task, not at all.
"Emrys!" Arwan bellowed. "Our comrades are dying. Neveon and Ira are dead! Dead, for God's sake!" But Emrys only drew the struggling man's face closer to her. Until she laid him on her lap and whispered into his ears. Then she planted a sorrowful kiss on his forehead. The man did not so much as speak, or beg his wife for another chance at life. This was the feared Dark Lord.
Emrys drew a sword, pummeled it into the ground. She grit out something in a foreign language that could not be understood. Then the world around him blared up. Arechin's vision flared up and his eyes were in such pain that he had to shut them. He yelped out loud as the pressure around him weighed him down–a boulder of the past.
"What was that?" He asked Verena once they were standing in her throne room again. He clutched his right shoulder and clenched his jaw in pain.
"The past. What really was, and what shall be." She smiled, crossing her legs no sooner than she took her seat. "Have you heard of Oriph's Seven Devices of Destruction?" She asked him, interlacing her fingers.
"I don't think I have." All such records regarding Oriph's dark magic had been erased from history so that no man would ever replicate such disasters.
Verena laughed like a fox, "Of course." She said. "Once the Dark Lord was sealed in Hell with the demons, his wife, Emrys had ordered immediate destruction of all knowledge about Oriph's great magic. But…" He locked eyes with the icy queen.
"Do you wonder how Emrys sealed away her beloved?"
He was quick to answer. He thought that all those history lessons had been helpful after all. "Powerful lost gate magic–"
But Verena clicked her tongue. "Boy, did you observe nothing at all just moments ago? Emrys was in possession of a sword. The Realm sword. The Seventh Device of Destruction, which could open gates to alternate realms. And close them. You could use it to do almost anything which was in the sphere of manipulating realms. Including, locking away a dark lord." Arechin just blinked. Verena sighed. "You human fools. Simply the knowledge of Oriph's magic is the greatest wine you shall ever taste. And you have erased his entire being from history." She continued, "After Oriph was sealed away, all the seven devices had been scattered. You see, Oriph had casted powerful binding magic on his instruments, that once after his nearly impossible death the devices were bound to be hidden within the mortal realm. And once he disappeared from the Mortal Realm, all connections between him and the devices had been severed. He was as good as dead. But now, the gates that we assumed to be sealed forever are opening again. It will not be soon before Prince Pride of upper hell crosses over. And if Oriph remains within Hell, he shall too." Arechin could not speak. "I don't know much boy, but it is my thought that the gates are being manipulated from our realm." She stared into his soulless eyes. "That is all I have to say." She leaned forward. "Now, you run for your life. And do not forget the oath that you have sworn in Elven premises."
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Ever since her best friend had died, she had spent her time locked up in her room at Abraham's manor. Except today—today she was standing before a mourning and terrified crowd. They were all gathered before the castle, awaiting their beloved prince—Arechin to arrive and make a remarkable speech. But he had not been found since the previous night. Now, Prince Kaien would take his place and deliver a statement on the throne's behalf. Where is this Emperor? Was the common cry.
As she stood on the balcony overlooking the masses, the Royal trumpets blared. Kaien walked in, the King's scepter in hand, his cape flowing behind him. His emerald eyes were tired and frustration was apparent.
Abraham took a stand behind Faith, slightly shaking her shoulders in reassurance. She had vague idea regarding the contents of the speech which had been so carefully drafted by the elder members of the King's Council.
"Citizens of Orlon." His voice boomed. She had always thought his voice had been more boyish. Now, so different. "Misfortune veils Eltarin. My heart goes out to the families of all those who have been lost to the night's massacre. It was beyond us to predict that such an auspicious night be turned into a bloody tragedy. The image of the joyous Winter Festival has been stained with crimson forever. A sacred symbol of life lost. But my people of Eltarin, we must mourn no more. I urge you all to take a stand. I urge you all to cooperate with the throne, and the sacred scepter." A speech well mesmerized, and practiced a hundred times with teary eyes. "As you all know, these creatures—demons are deadly creatures of the night. But, the day burns them away. They have not struck yet, but soon they shall. In order to protect Eltarin, the crown has decided to impose a curfew. A strict curfew. It is only out of kindness that I must remind everyone of the butcher's block that awaits those who disregard the throne's decisions." Horrified murmurs amongst the crowd of a thousand blurred faces. "Further, a special guard shall be appointed to safeguard Eltarin. The Night Guard shall be under the commandership of General Reaper. Rest assured, for you are under the safety of trained soldiers. With these special forces, we seek to eradicate this atrocious threat." The Prince concludes, "May the Gods be with you, and the Holy Scepter's power guide you."
He turned, the guard on his heels. Faith gave a last glance to the fearful crowd before following.
She met with Prince Kaien and others, standing around an oval teak wood center table inside the Prince's room. She could still see the crowd going haywire, from the Prince's balcony.
Abraham Reaper had only begun speaking, when the great wooden doors to the Prince's chambers burst open. The youngest of the Ravenswoods stood there, wild and sweating. His dark hair shuffled and a mess, possibly a twig tangled along somewhere. His jaw twitched—it was bruised. His eyes were heavy, and threatened to close, as if he'd just rode here without any rest. A wind weaved its way through the atmosphere around them, and she realized that only she had felt the frigidity of it, because she realized that Arechin Ravenswood was only looking at her. Only and only at her when he said,
"Leave us." He said once nodding at Faith, and arguments rose, especially from Prince Kaien. And then the future Emperor of Eltarin spoke, demanding they all leave and then, even his brother was helpless. Such authority he carried, this arrogant young boy. To her, he was only a boy still.
He closed the distance between them and looking down upon her, said,
"I encountered Verena." Encountered, surely. Faith raised her eyebrows in question. "I visited her court."
"You've gone mad." It's indeed surprising that he's even here before her, in one piece. The last man that Verena had entertained was Oriph. Even Thaddeus was her playmate.
"I learned a lot Faith, and there is much that I have to tell you." He spoke, like he hated the words that outsourced from his mouth. She watched as his fingers traced circles around his chest, close to his heart, and tapped against the hard winter cloth. "That day of Serria's burial, I was miserable." Oh, you still are Prince. "The Empire is a dungeon of lies. I am nothing but a Prince of this Labyrinth, trying to navigate my way. The most grievous lie lies in the heart of this Labyrinth." She was at a loss for words. This was not Arechin Ravenswood. "Faith, the men of Eltarin do grieve. When the Empire takes away their women, their children—when they find themselves begging before the butcher's house, beseeching the Constellations to rule out the possibilities of that kind of miserable death—The men of Eltarin do grieve when their beloved Princess is lost to the darkness, when her mutilated remains find way back to her brother. Faith, I am grieving. I am going to burn this world down, demons and everything again and again, until I find her again." She didn't know what she had to say in such a situation. She had never seen a man express so much emotion to her, and she definitely had not expected Arechin Ravenswood to be the first.
"Your Highness." She simply said.
But he collapsed on his knees, and held out a dagger. And crisply, he sliced his palm. She nearly gasped. Bright, red blood bubbled out and splattered on the stone. This was a tradition of the North—where the Ravenswoods originated from. This was how oaths were taken, and a deeper cut meant a stronger bond. And this wound, it was very deep. She had taken one, when she had first joined the emperor's court. But she could not understand why this arrogant prince had chosen to take an oath to her, why he had chosen to portray himself so vulnerable before her. "Tana Khaos asked me to find a way, and I have. But I need your help Faith, with you this will not be so hard. If you agree, I will lay down what you desire before you."
"Why me?" Was all she could ask. "Why not Abraham, or why not Kaien—"
"Because you're the only person whose soul aches for vengeance as much as mine does. You are the Daughter of Death, do not deny me."
Do not deny me.
Those words resonated through every inch of her.
Do not deny vengeance, Daughter of Death.
Somewhere, the constellations said to her.