Leander stormed down the cracked road, his fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.
The sun was low, casting long shadows across the dirt path that snaked through their desolate settlement.
His breath came fast and shallow, each step echoing the storm in his chest.
Behind him, the dim, ramshackle house he shared with his father faded into the distance, though he could still hear echoes of muffled laughter and the clinking of glass.
His father's laughter.
The thought made Leander's stomach churn.
The image of the girl inside that house burned into his mind.
She was barely twenty! he thought bitterly,
She was sprawled on the couch, her makeup smudged and her eyes glazed over as his father handed her a pipe filled with something vile.
Leander had walked in, hoping against hope that maybe—just maybe—his father would have turned a corner.
Instead, he found them both surrounded by smoke, a haze of decay and recklessness filling the room.
Leander was a hopeful person, he hoped for a better result of life everyday but nothing happens yet he tries again.
"You're too young to understand fun, boy," his father had slurred when Leander snapped, accusing him of ruining what little they had left.
Fun.
That's what his father called this. Fun, while their lives crumbled and the memory of Leander's mother was drowned in cheap liquor and bad decisions.
He couldn't believe his father.
His feet hit the dirt harder as he left the road behind, pushing into the dense undergrowth of the woods.
The trees loomed tall and twisted, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky. Birds fluttered overhead, startled by his heavy steps.
The forest was dangerous, filled with predators, both natural and unnatural. It was no place for a boy like him.
Not that he noticed. Not that he cared.
He hated that house. Hated his father. And most of all, hated the man responsible for it all—their leader, Sovereign Daltus.
'Fuck!' Leander stopped by a gnarled oak tree, his chest heaving. His anger burned hotter as his thoughts turned darker.
Life hadn't always been this way. There had been laughter once, a warmth in their home that only his mother could bring.
She'd been the anchor, the light that kept their family from completely sinking into the abyss.
But then the Sovereign took her.
He dropped to his knees, his fingers gripping the damp soil as his mind spiraled back to that day, the day his world truly shattered.
It had been two years ago, though the memory was as sharp as broken glass.
Leander was sitting at the rickety table in their kitchen, eating a slice of bread his mother had slathered with a thin spread of jam.
She hummed softly as she moved about, her skirts swishing against the wooden floor. The sunlight streaming through the window caught in her auburn hair, making her look like something out of a storybook.
He still wish he took her hair colour instead of his weak father's.
Then came the knock.
Loud. Commanding. It wasn't a neighbor or one of his father's drinking buddies, they weren't that confident. Leander looked up, his heart skipping a beat as his mother froze.
"Who is it?" his mother, Lily had yelled from inside.
"The Sovereign Daltus is here open the door or let it be broken down," a brooding voice yelled back and Leander felt his whole body shudder.
"Stay here," she said quietly, her voice trembling as she wiped her hands on her apron.
Leander didn't stay.
Peeking around the corner, he saw them—two of the Sovereign's enforcers, clad in black armor that gleamed like oil.
Behind them, a tall, imposing figure with sharp, hawk-like features. Sovereign Daltus. His presence sucked the air out of the room.
"Is this her?" Daltus asked, his voice smooth but cold.
"Yes, sovereign she is,"
The sovereign nodded, his eyes raked over her, and Leander's stomach turned.
"Take her,"
"She's mine," his father said, stepping into view. For once, he seemed nervous, his usual bravado tempered by the Sovereign's gaze. "You can't just—"
Daltus raised a hand, silencing him. "I can and I will. She is perfect for the Court. Your defiance only solidifies my decision."
Leander's mother stepped forward then, her chin high, her expression calm despite the fear in her eyes. "Please, I have a son. A family. I cannot—"
"Your son is none of my concern," Daltus interrupted, already gesturing to his enforcers. "Take her."
Leander ran forward, screaming, but one of the guards grabbed him, holding him back as his mother was dragged away.
She fought, twisting and shouting his name, but it didn't matter. They were gone in minutes, leaving behind only silence and a void that would never be filled.
Back in the present, Leander slammed his fist into the ground. The pain was sharp but grounding, pulling him out of the past.
His father had spiraled after that day, blaming the Sovereign, blaming himself, blaming Leander.
And now here they were, living in the outskirts of the settlement where the poorest and most defiant were dumped, surrounded by the dark, dangerous woods.
This isn't living, Leander thought, his vision blurred by tears he refused to shed. If she were here, it wouldn't be like this. She'd make it better. Safer. She'd make him better.
But she wasn't here.
And Leander was alone.
Leander kicked a jagged stone down the dirt path, muttering angry words under his breath.
His brown hair stuck up in messy tufts, tousled by the wind and his restless hands, while his blue eyes blazed with frustration.
Each step sent a small cloud of dust into the air, but he paid no attention to it—or to how the light around him was beginning to dim.
The woods seemed to close in as the sunlight faded, shadows stretching longer and darker. Yet Leander didn't notice.
His anger wrapped around him like a cocoon, blocking out the world.
That was until he heard it.
Snap.
His heart jolted, the sound slicing through his fury like a knife. He stopped, frozen in place, as a cold dread crept up his spine.
The woods were eerily quiet now, save for the rustling leaves and his own ragged breathing.
"What was that?" he whispered to himself, though he wasn't sure he wanted an answer.