'Fuck!'

Skander stormed down the cracked road, his fists clenched so tight that his nails bit into his palms. 

It was late evening and the sun was low when he couldn't take it, and had to go down the dirty 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 Skander could still hear echoes of muffled laughter and the clinking of glass.

His father's laughter.

The thought made Skander's stomach churn.

The image of the girl inside that house burned into his mind. 

She was barely eighteen! he thought bitterly.

Yet, 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. 

Skander had walked in, hoping against hope that maybe—just maybe—his father would have turned a corner today. 

How stupid.

Instead, he found them both surrounded by smoke, a haze of decay and recklessness filling the room.

Skander 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 Skander 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 Skander'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. 

He hated the whole government. But he could do nothing.

'Fuck!' Skander grunted again as he 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.

Skander almost dropped to his knees, his toes attempting to dig into the damp soil through his shoes 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.

Skander 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 skirt 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 disgusting father's.

Then came the knock.

Loud. Commanding. Ominous.

It wasn't a neighbor or one of his father's drinking buddies, they weren't that confident. Skander 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 Skander felt his whole body shudder.

In this dominion of Sovereign Daltus, when the government comes, you'll know trouble isn't far behind.

Tamemire has never been the same since Sovereign Daltus seized control.

"Stay here," Lily said quietly, her voice trembling as she wiped her hands on her apron.

Skander 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 was smooth but cold as he asked his enforcers.

"Yes, sovereign she is," they bellowed.

Neither Skander nor his mother knew what they were talking about but it appears his mother was what the sovereign was looking for and it didn't sound like good news.

The sovereign nodded, his eyes raked over her, and Skander's stomach turned. 

What the fuck was happening?, he thought.

"Take her," the sovereign ordered sharply.

"She's mine," his father said, stepping into view. 

For once and for the first time, he seemed nervous, Skander saw his fathers determination, 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 and my bed. Your defiance only solidifies my decision."

Skander'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."

Skander ran forward, screaming, but one of the guards grabbed him, holding him back as his mother was dragged away. 

His father, Chester, fought but they were trained enforcers and he was soon down.

Lily 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, Skander 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 Skander. 

They didn't know the actual reason his mother was taken but Skander believed that what the government had spotted was a lie.

And now here they were, condemned to live in the outskirts of the dominion where the neglected and most defiant were dumped, surrounded by the dark, dangerous woods.

They lived in the 'Rebel Faction,' of the dominion, 'Bisthicket'.

This isn't living, Skander 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 Skander was alone.

'What a joke for a fucking life' Skander kicked a jagged stone down the wet 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 hazel blue eyes blazed with frustration. 

Each step left a small print on the ground after hin, 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 Skander didn't notice. 

His anger wrapped around him like a cocoon, blocking out the world. He wanted to get lost in the woods; perhaps he could find peace.

That was until he heard it.

Snap. A 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.