Born an outcast

PROLOGUE

My mother always used to tell me about the Dark Covenant. An alliance between 5 power hungry Sylariians. Lucius, Selena, Dravan, Lilith and Cassius. They were greedy and did not respect the alliance between dragons and humans. They stole powerful riders from all over Liella. Every kingdom faced a tragic loss. 

They sacrificed the blood of the riders into the Ebon lake. Their bodies burnt and the ashes thrown in. Powerful riders faced their end. The Dark Covenant then stole dragon eggs from the hatching grounds and placed them into the lake. The eggs hatched and powerful dragons emerged. The stories say they had the power to rattle the earth itself. 

 The Ebonian war began. Soldier after soldier died. Then a solution presented itself. Lock every Sylariian in their kingdom. No one comes in, no one comes out. Each kingdom got a gem, crafted to keep them in. The war ended. No one knows what happened after that. No one dares come close to the border. Centuries later. The tale is only a myth, the myth only a fathom of one's imagination. The Ebon Ritual was banned forever. Yet the fear lingers. Sometimes I wonder if it was deserved. If every Sylariian deserved banishment. But this world is cruel and unfair and sometimes I like to think it was just a myth, just a small story of someone's imagination. 

 SometimesIi like to think the terror and torture didnt actually happen. But some nights I imagine that maybe one day they will come back. The thought of the Sylariians rising again is enough to keep me awake at night, pondering the possibility of the return of such darkness.

Chapter 1

 Who thought that the day meant to celebrate life would be the very one to claim it?

 Fire cannons shoot in all directions. Blood lines the party decorations. Guests are screaming, running, dying. Men are fighting mercilessly, plunging all sorts of weapons into my people. A guard grabs hold of me and starts pulling me towards safety. His grip tight on me, as he leads me towards the castle.

"Where's Elodie?" I scream, my voice hoarse against his hold, struggling and pulling away, yelling Elodie in all directions.

One of the men starts running towards us with a dagger in hand. He plunges it into the guard's neck. The guard lets go of me and starts yelling, trying to fight the man off. I'd help him if there wasn't someone more important on my mind. I don't waste a second and start running, looking for Elodie. I see a soldier dragging her on the ground. I run towards the soldier, nicking a dagger from a fallen man.

Stay calm. That's what my father always says. In chaos the key to success is being collected, precise. Know your enemy. Know their weaknesses and strengths. I'm reminded of a lesson with him. Zarathians, he said, were known for their quick hand-to-hand combat. They were fast on their feet and before you knew it had a knife to your throat.

I take a deep breath, jumping onto the man's back. His armor half gone, I thrust the knife into his arm, he yells in pain, letting my sister go. I grin in satisfaction, taking a deep breath.

 Deep breaths Vieve, deep breaths. 

Using all the strength I can muster I lift Elodie from the floor. She uses my body for support as we slowly, but begrudgingly walk towards a large table. A woman starts running towards us, her hands stretched out. Vines start growing around my ankles. I use my dagger to cut them off, as I lean on my sister for momentum swinging around and slicing the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, choking on her own blood. I drag my sister underneath the table, making sure no one had followed us. I pull the cloth down, hiding us from sight. We stay hidden there breathlessly for a minute.

"Elodie, are you hurt?" I whisper.

"My leg," she grunts through clenched teeth.

I quickly check her leg. One of her thighs is cut open, blood gushing out. I rip part of my dress, the beautiful dress my mother had given to me only a few hours ago, wrapping it tightly around her thigh. She almost screams, but I clamp my hand tightly around her mouth, muffling the sound.

"You'll be okay, Lodie," I whisper. Tears stream down her face as she quietly sobs into my hand. I force my tears down. She needs someone to be strong for her, like mother or father. 

That's when I realize: where are they? 

The thought hits me like a cold wave. I peer underneath the cloth and gag at the sight. Blood and body parts litter the once green grass. Behind all the wreckage, I see my mother surrounded by men, my father defending her. But there are too many men. Where are the guards?

"L-lodie, I'll be right back, stay hidden, okay?" I whisper, ripping more of my dress and discarding it, as I tie my hair back.

"Where are you going?" she asks, worry etched in her voice. She grabs my hand, her grip tight, as she holds me there, not letting go. I huff in annoyance, trying to release her from me. 

"Don't worry about that. Just stay here, okay?" I respond, as I finally manage to get her hand away. Slowly peering through the cloth again as I find the best way to leave. 

"You'll be back, right?", she asks. I notice the alarm in her voice and turn around, coddling her hand. A small gesture, which I know means a lot to her. Physical touch is our love language. 

"Yes, I will." I say, hopefully not lying to her.

 I will make it out alive. We will make it out alive.

"Be safe," she responds. Gently letting go of my hand. 

"I will," I answer, as I kiss her forehead, then slowly crawl out from underneath the table-cloth, making sure it's tucked back to hide her. I move quickly towards some trees, hiding behind them as I peer out to watch my parents fight against the men.

Where are the dragons?

Why aren't my parents using their powers? 

I see a man in the corner. He's focusing on his hands, which are held directly towards my parents. A mute, one of the most powerful abilities, able to simply switch off anyone's power with the correct training. 

There at atleast 15 soldiers surrounding my parents. My father fends my mothers back, while my mother uses her hand-to-hand knowledge to defend his. They work like a team. Perfectly in sync. I assess how best to help them, until a guard catches my father right on the side of his stomach.

"Father!" I scream, running out of the foliage. He turns, but it's too late. The blade plunges into his stomach. He lets out a choking grunt of agony, falling to the floor. I run towards the man, as I throw my dagger at his neck. It slices clean through.

 As it always does.

 My parents have always trained me in my free time, away from royal duties. I learned to stab, to throw, to shoot a bow all the way to the other side of the river and still hit true at the age of 9. That was 5 years ago. I'm as strong and as fast as any soldier.

"Aleksander!" my mother screams as she turns around and kneels next to him. I realize too late that my father will die. The blood gushing out of him is enough to fill a tub. I run to him.

 My mother has water powers, she trained them to such a length where she could use the water in someone's body to heal them, but because of the mute standing on the side she's useless. The men just stand there. They don't bother to grab my mother or me. Like they are waiting for commands. I don't care. I shove them away and sit next to my mother.

I coddle her, like she used to coddle me, while also crying into him.

"My sweet Genevieyve," he responds calmly. But I see the pain in his eyes, the fear in them.

"I-I'm s-so sorry," I choke, tears falling onto him as I hold his hand tightly. 

He doesn't get a chance to respond as a sword crashes into his skull. 

It's quiet for a minute.

"No!" I scream hysterically. My mother holds me tight, shielding me from the outside world, then carefully slips something into my boot, squeezing my hand tightly, before a man grabs my arms and holds me, a blade pressed to my throat.

"Isabella, hasn't it been a while?" a man asks. He's different from the others. His armor is shinier, his hair wellkept, his eyes promising darkness, gold flickering behind the black. But the thing that makes him stand out is the gold crown standing atop his head. The kind of crown a king would wear to battle. 

"Dairyus, let the girl go," Isabella answers calmly, assessing the man. I look at him, the respect the soldiers give him, the clear dominance he has. The thought hits me like a wave.

The king.

 The king of Zarathis. My eyes widen as I realize what this is. He just invaded Aaraliyn. Killed the king and is taking the queen hostage. I internally gasp. Shocked. I knew there was trouble with Zarathis. I knew because I would always be eavesdropping on my parents' meetings. Other than business with the dragons and the Ice Kingdom the main subject was always Zarathis, the desert kingdom. They always had a massive advantage because the desert covered their entire border. the people would talk about how he's a brute and kills anyone in his way. The man before me definitely owns up to the description. 

My mother gives me a signal.

We used to always go into the woods. Her and I. We shared this shed, where she taught me how to read dead languages or in this case sign language. It was her favorite way of communication, she would always say how the best warriors learned to talk with their minds. She taught me sign language with simply one hand, even taking it so far as to making up our own secret language which would be read by simple body movements and gestures, so slight that one would be able to communicate while being held hostage by a king and 15 soldiers.

"The girl? I believe this is your daughter, Isabella, yes?" he responds, a hint of sarcasm etched in his voice.

Don't look into your boot, She says. 

I focus my eyes on the scene in front of me. Not daring to look down. The mettle is cold against my foot. Luckily I would always refuse to wear high-heels. They restricted me, not allowing me to move freely. My parents would always insist, but clearly I was right to not wear them. 

"It's Queen Demaris to you," she spits.

 "Ah yes! I forgot your mother passed. Time flies, doesn't it?" He responds wickedly. Grinning at the comment. He's so cool, so collected, as if he didn't have a care in the world. 

"That happened a while ago. Understandable you didn't find out. Must be hard to receive information all the way in the desert. Do tell me, how many of your slaves make the journey?". She asks coldly. Her gaze pierces his, but he doesn't falter.

"Slaves are an exaggeration, love." No one has ever disrespected my mother like that. They would have been on their knees by now. I peer behind my mother, the cliff a silent threat. 

"I have a husband." She responds.

"You had a husband. He died tragically at the hands of my men." He smirks, enjoying the sight of my angry mother.

"Watch your tongue." She responds. Evil lurking behind her glowing eyes. She's trying to use her powers. I glance quickly at the mute who's completely concentrated on my mother. Her magic is powerful, so powerful it must take all of the mutes concentration to disable it.

He ignores the command, instead asking a question. "You must wonder why your beloved dragons aren't here?"

My mother raises her brows. He continues without waiting for a response. "Let's just say there was a bit of trouble at the border," Dairyus says. She doesn't respond, instead looking towards the mute. He just smiles at her, a wicked grin.

Dairyus steps closer, pressing her toward the edge of the cliff. "Isabella, you know why I'm here. Where is it?" he demands.

"Somewhere you will never find," she replies simply. Standing tall, not daring to show weakness.

Dairyus's eyes narrow. "Don't make me ask twice," he warns, turning to me. "Do you know where it is, Genevieyve?"

 How does he know my name? I stand frozen, fear gripping me. His deep brown eyes pierce through me when I notice the dagger is drawing blood from my neck. I realize he's waiting for a response.

"N-no, I don't know what you're talking about," I stammer, glancing desperately at my mother, but she doesn't spare me a glance.

"You think I'd trust a child with such information? How naïve do you think I am?" Isabella spits.

" It's been 100 years, has it not? Have you told her yet? Told her the power she holds." For once she actually looks shocked. 

"How?" She stammers. I've never truly seen my mother in shock. She always knows everything. Always had an answer to every problem.

"Where is it Isabella?"

Her expression changes immediately, her face turning ice-cold, "somewhere you will never find, Dairyus".

She then turns to me smiling. A loving smile. A smile that says I love you and I always will.

The forest holds our greatest secrets, my sweet Vieve.

A smile that means goodbye. 

Before I can react she leans back, her arms failing for balance. The king reaches in shock for her. Failing to grab her arms and pulling her back to safety. The ground beneath her gives way, and she falls backward into the abyss. Our eyes lock for the last time, she doesn't scream, doesn't utter a word. Just smiles as she falls. The wind whisping around her, as the darkness below swallows her whole. I fall to my knees. Crying and screaming.

That was the last time I saw her.

Chapter 2

Happiness was taken from me 730 days ago. 

My family was taken from me 730 days ago. My friends were taken from me 730 days ago. Killed. I was not taken away 730 days ago. I survived, I was forced to survive. I was forced to live. Locked in this cell at night and working in the mines by day. I was an animal, a tool, an object they used for entertainment. 

My nights are spent in a cold sweat, barely sleeping and when I do I dream of my mother, falling off that cliff or my father stabbed by a sword, or my sister. I do not know the fate of her. I didn't see her get killed. I suppose that's good, I suppose it means she's alive. But deep down I know it is not. Sometimes being dead is better than being alive, at least in this place. 

By day, my mind plagues me with the one question that will never be answered "what if". What if we were prepared, what if I stood up for myself, what if I wasn't scared to fight, to fight for my people, my kingdom, what if this was all just a dream and I was soon to be woken up by my nanny and given a warm hug by my mother.

 I will never hug my mother again. 

I will never be able to see her soft, warm Smiles and cheerful spirit. 

I will never be able to feel her taking care of me when I'm unwell. 

I will never be able to listen to her bedtime stories and the way she interprets the characters. 

I will never be able to smell her delicious blend of flowers she sprays on herself. 

I will never be able to taste her delicious meals that make me feel like I'm just in the right place. 

I will never be able to do any of those things. Not now,not later, not ever. 

Because she's dead. 

Chapter 3 

 The whip cracks against the little girl's back. She's barely 10. The blood oozes out of her wounds, crimson red. It pools where she stands. The whip cracks once, twice, thrice. The girl screams in pain, but does not resist. Resisting means worse. Resisting means you do not bow, submit. In this place submission is everything. You do as they say. 

And if you don't…

I want to help, I should help, I've tried to help. It is no use. If you try to help you'll be the one in her place. So we all watch. We all watch as this little girl gets whipped countless times, as she desperately grasps consciousness. She will be dead tomorrow. She lost too much blood and no one is given medical care. You don't even get a proper burial. They just throw you in the sea. The ocean of iron. A place no one has ever come back from. It engulfs you, say the stories, takes you into the deep and never lets you go. You drown for eternity in the water below. 

I watch as the monster stops, whispers some words to her and leaves. He just leaves. He acts as if he didn't just traumatize a little girl, as if he didn't just leave hundreds of reminders on her back, soon she'll be at peace. Soon she won't have to worry. Soon she will be alright. Soon. So soon. 

My ax lands against the hard rock. The king has ordered his slaves to hack all the caves in Aaralin, for gems. Hundreds of gems lay in each cave. They enhance power and strength. I've been hacking for hours, stuck here for 2 years. I count the days in my cell. A small space just for me. I'm thin, too thin for the kind of Labor they put us through. They give us very little food and water. My knuckles are sore from the time I've spent holding the ax, my callouses scraping against the wood. 

Two guards are stationed by the exit, fully armed. They watch us, waiting for us to make a mistake, waiting to punish us. I focus on the rock. I don't need to get into trouble today. The full first year of my life here was spent in rebellion. The scars on my back have to show for it. They never gave me as many swings as the others. They always fed me more, tended to my wounds occasionally. I suppose that's why all the others hate me. They think I'm special. But it's not. I can't die. They don't let me. And to know you can't stop this at any point, to know you have to endure this for the rest of your life. That's true torture. 

I'm not special. 

My hands start to bleed. The haft soaks up the blood like it always does. Another guard enters the cave, it's odd for more than two guards to be in a cave. They all have shifts and unless given special orders don't come here. I glimpse at them talking through the corner of my eye. The two guards look suddenly more stern. They talk in hushed, serious tones. I catch the two guards looking at me and then back. That can't be good. I turn back to the rock and keep swinging my ax. One of the guards walks towards me. The other prisoners look down and pretend not to notice. I'm torn between continuing my work or stopping to have this „conversation" I'm about to have with the guard. I decide it's best to keep working. Hopefully they were looking at someone behind me. 

Breath Vieve, breath. 

My breath comes in short pants as he closes in on me. 

Without permission he grabs hold off my arms, then my wrists, until he has them behind my back chained, my ax long forgotten. I want to kick him away, but it's best not to. Whatever I've done is going to be painful enough. I try to recall the past few days, but everything went as usual. I haven't done anything wrong. 

Breathe Vieve, breath. 

The guard leads me out. Two other guards meet us as they station themselves in front of me. I don't say a word, I just follow them like the obedient girl they've raised me to be. Suddenly a bag gets thrown over my head, it's tight, so tight I can't breathe. It's stuffy and smells like sweat. I struggle against the chains. Is this how I'm going to die? Being suffocated by a burlap bag. 

„Captain, can't you tell our guest is struggling to breathe," a male voice mocks. His voice stern, yet playful in a way.

 „General, sir it was under the king's orders", responds the man holding me. I feel his posture straighten, but I sense he's nervous. 

"You are given new orders. Remove the chains", the general demands. The playfulness in his tone, gone. The guard holding me fidgets quietly torn between disobeying this man or the king. Surely there can't be a worse fate than disobeying the king? Relief washed over me when I hear the key click. With a grunt the guard holding me unlocks the chains. Immediately I throw the sack off and gasp for air, quickly taking a second to make sure my bracelet is in my boot. I'm about to try and sprint it when the voice of the general catches me off guard. 

„Running away now are we? After I was so nice to remove your chains" he smirks up at me. He's right, I realise. Running away would be the stupidest idea ever. Especially since I don't know the place and the 3 guards behind me surely would catch up. I'm still in the cave, I realize. It's a long hallway that leads to a small, rusty staircase, probably leading to another part of the cave.

I meet his smirk with a defiant gaze "You call that nice? I'd hate to see your version of mean.

„I can be very mean", his voice is edged with a chilling promise. 

"I've gathered as much," I reply dryly, holding his gaze steadily despite the lingering discomfort of his gaze, trailing my body. His eyes tickle my brain. Such a deep beautiful brown. We start walking towards the stairs and ascending them. 

His smirk widens, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. He unlocks the door. "You'll find out soon enough," he says cryptically, as he starts casually walking backwards through the unlocked door, then turns. 

I don't get a chance to respond as he leaves. 

The second the guards lose sight of him they chain me again, at least the sack lies discarded in the hallway behind us. We walk through the door. A light breeze trailI look at my surroundings, check where my feet are planted. Grass. 

It's been 730 days since I've been outside 

It's so beautiful. I greedily gulp down the fresh air, feeling it fill my lungs with every breath. Everything around me is so green and bright, casting life and energy in every direction. The trees stand tall, their leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze, casting light shadows on the ground. The grass, lush and vibrant, stretches out like a vast emerald carpet under the clear, blue sky. The flowers are in full bloom, their vibrant petals unfurling in a breathtaking array of colors. They paint the landscape with hues of red, yellow, pink, and purple, creating a stunning view. Each blossom seems to be thriving in the warm embrace of the late July sunshine. Birds sing, while butterflies flit from flower to flower, creating a scene so magical, so beautiful one would think they were in a fairytale. 

This isn't a fairytale. 

I will not get my happy ending. I will suffer and so will the rest of my people because of them. Because all you have to do is tilt your head to see the camp they build in the corner of your eye. The tents, the campfire, the horses, the metals crushing everything. Where they stand, no flowers bloom, the grass a pale muck. The animals, robbed of their home, now scatter away like mice. Everyone, everything bends to them. 

Even the earth itself.

—

 The cool breeze brushes my face lightly. I take a deep breath. The chains fastened to my ankles and wrists prevent me from moving, but I manage to lean somewhat comfortably against the tree. The sun warms my face as I gaze out at the view of the cliffside.

"Nice view, right?" says the general as he plops down next to me.

I huff in response, realizing what he means.

"Go find someone else to look at," I snap, irritated.

He ignores my command, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're almost as sharp-tongued as I am handsome," he teases, settling against the tree beside me. 

"Please, I've seen far better," I say, rolling my eyes and shifting away, annoyed at him for invading my space 

He moves in time with me, mirroring my movements with a grin. "What, in the mines?" he asks casually, then freezes, realizing his mistake.

I tense. The mines were as much my home as my worst nightmare. The thought of them leaves me shaking. Not daring to thing about the pain and torture I suffered there. I won't let him hurt me, won't let him know my weak spots. I take a steadying breath, pushing the memories down.

"Yes, actually, in the mines. My favorite were the men you slaughtered like pigs in front of us." My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but I don't regret it. He stills and takes a deep breath, changing the subject. 

"They put the chains back on," he murmurs, clearly irritated. I'm not sure why he cares, not sure why he even bothers to be here talking to me. I'm torn between answering him or ignoring him, but I haven't talked to someone for a while. 

"Clearly." I respond dryly. 

The General pulls out a key from his pocket and gently unlocks the chains on my wrists, tossing them over the edge of the cliff. His touch leaves a silent shiver down my spine as I visibly stiffen. 

"The name's Lucas," he says, pushing off the tree and carefully sliding the key back into his pocket.

"Great, you can leave now," I snap. Maybe those keys unlock the chain to my ankles. I think to myself. It's worth a shot. Worth a shot at escape. I think ,quickly deciding that maybe it is worth losing the one person who will talk to me.

"Not even a thank you?" he asks, his smirking returning, though this time softer. 

I realize he's about to leave. "No", I say flatly. I think of something to ask, but he beats me to it.

"What's your name?" he asks, his voice quieter now, almost curious. His question lingers, his brown eyes searching mine. For a moment, I lose myself in their depth before remembering who he is.

"Your king didn't inform you?" I ask sharply, shaking off the moment.

"Oh, yes he definitely did. That's why im asking." His words drip with sarcasm, but there's something behind his tone I can't quite place.

I don't know why I lie, my name doesn't mean much. It only reminds me of the family I lost. " Isadora Gray." I decide. Part of it is the truth Isadora is my middle name. The last part is simply conjured by my creative mind. 

Grey?! Really Vieve?

We fall into silence for a moment. Studying each other. I look at his broad shoulders, sculpted back. My mouth dries. Before I can finish the thought I shift awkwardly on my feet, breaking the silence. 

Well, Grey, it's been a pleasure," he says, the smirk back in full force as he steps away.

No, no, no. I need that key.

"What's your last name?" I ask quickly, stalling.

"Wouldn't you like to know" he says grinning.

I glare at him as he turns to leave. I move without thinking, shifting my weight to make it seem like I've lost my balance. The chains clatter as I stumble backward toward the cliff.

like my mother. 

My chest tightens as I remember her fall. But before I can spiral further, Lucas's hands catch me, steady and firm.

"Careful, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself before the king sees you," he teases with a smirk, steadying me. I shove myself away from him.

My fingers brush against his pocket as I steady myself, slipping the key out and replacing it with two small stones I'd picked up earlier.

"Thanks," I mutter, curling my fingers around the cold metal of the key, keeping my movements subtle. Lucas steps back, still pasting that grin on his face..

"Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone," he says, walking away. I watch him until he's out of sight, then quickly slip the key into my boot. 

Just like my mother did.

 I push the thought away, refusing to even acknowledge it.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I whisper to the empty cliffside, a smirk tugging at my lips.

—

The guards lead me to a fireplace where multiple men are gathered either drinking or working. I notice a guard in a near drunk state sharpening a small dagger that would fit wonderfully under my waistband. As we near, the men stare at me like I'm a piece of rotten meat. I sit near the man sharpening his blade. Carefully assessing my surroundings.

Lucas starts walking out of the crowd with a plate of food and water. 

"Thought you might be hungry" Lucas smiles, placing the food in front of me. „ and since none of them care enough for you, I thought I'd bring you some food and spend some time with you." He says cheerily, almost sarcastically.

"Should you be spending time with your prisoner?" I reply dryly as I greedily take the food. He just shrugs.

"Thanks for the food." I mumble between bites. The food is plain and boring, but compared to the stale bread in the mines, this is delicious.

"Anything for you, Gray." He grins. 

"It's Isadora."I snap, irritated. Why did I tell him my last name?

"As you said you're my prisoner, I can call you whatever i want." He reply's leaning against a tree. 

The sun starts setting creating a beautiful view, as the woods slowly disappear into darkness. It's beautiful, so beautiful, yet the thought of going back to the Capitol, seeing the man who killed my parents. The thought leaves cold sweat down my spine.

"Why does he want me?" I ask quietly between bites.

He pauses, contemplating. The breeze filling the space. Then finally decides, "I don't know, what I do know is that you never disobey him.", his answer seems honest. Like he really had no idea why the great king himself would bother with a peasant girl. I smile at that. He has no idea. 

"Maybe it's time someone should." I look up at him. Our eyes lock. His brown eyes glisten in the late sun. Those brown eyes that remind me of something I can't quite grasp. We stare at each other for a long moment. He turns his head, indicating to something behind me. I watch as two guards start walking towards us.

"That's my cue." I murmur, annoyed.

"Leaving me already?" He chuckles. Picking himself up. 

"Jealous much?", I drawl, grinning. It feels good to talk to him, feels good to finally talk to someone. To finally have a friend. 

He can't be my friend. 

"No, no, have fun" he smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. I wonder if he's ever done that. Ever given up, surrendered.

I stand and turn towards the guards leaving the empty plate behind. A guard quickly grabs my wrists and chains them. I turn towards Lucas.

"No trouble, right?" I ask, quickly glancing at the man by the fireplace. His dagger gleaming in the flames. 

"Right." He nods, turning away and walking into the crowd. 

The two men who I now know are called Boyce and Jacks (thanks to some eavesdropping) start leading me away from the fireplace, towards tents. I eye the dagger sitting on the chair. I need it, but I can't reach it. Without thinking I purposefully trip over my chains leaning to my right and start quickly stumbling towards the dagger. I push against the chair with my arm, forcing it to fall along with the dagger. I start sliding the dagger over with my leg when Jacks starts picking me up. 

"I can do it myself." I spit, swatting his hand away. Boyce starts picking up the chair. 

"You do what I want now be still." He huffs. I quickly grab the dagger and drop it into my other boot without the key. I've been dropping a lot of things into my boot recently. The sting of the dagger has me almost hissing but I bite my tongue, already feeling the blood pooling in my boot. I try to walk normally, blaming it on the chains. But I keep stumbling. The dagger digging deeper and deeper. We finally make it to a tent. He shoves me in and murmurs something about shifts then leaves. I hear him talking to two guards who stand by the entrance. I look around cringing at the space. A small cot lies in the corner with a thin blanket atop it. There's no pillow in sight, nor is there any light source other than from outside. I try to look for an exit but there's only one. I sit on the cot and start pulling the dagger out of my boot. I carefully put the dagger under the mattress, ripping a small piece from my blanket and wrapping it around my foot.

Just like I did for Lodie those years ago.

 The thought sends shivers down my spine. 

 Chapter 4

It's been a few hours, I've waited for it to get dark. The celebration slowly dying down as everyone settles for bed. I've noticed a pattern in the guards shift. There is a shift every hour, where the guards swap and check on me. I need to find a way to escape. The only way to get out is to knock the guards out. Once everyone is quiet I slowly grab the key from my boot, praying the key will fit. I grin when I hear a satisfying click. My stolen dagger in hand, I slowly inch towards the exit. 

]

"That prince had to set guards for her. Stupid girl couldn't run if she tried," a man, probably Jacks complains.

 Is the prince here? If so, I haven't seen him. He probably thinks I'm not worth his time and is hiding in his royal tent. I scoff, quietly. He's hiding from me. Hiding from the truth just like all royals do. They take all for themselves and leave nothing in return. 

" Ye, now we're stuck 'ere babysittin', " Boyce responds a moment too late. 

I take the hilt of the dagger and knock it into his head, he falls to the ground. Jacks spins towards me sword at the ready, he's about to slice my head clean off my neck, but when he sees it's me he stops. Sliding the sword back into his belt and getting into a fighting Position. He jumps onto me. I twist and slide the dagger clean through his stomach. My breath comes in quick short pants. I drop to the floor, clamping a hand over his mouth so he doesn't make noise. I realize what I've done. The life I took. I've never killed before. 16 is too young to take a life, that's what my father always said. He taught me to immobilise not kill. I watch helplessly as this man dies in my arms. The last thing he sees shouldn't be me. It shouldn't be me. His killer. So I move out of his view and tilt his chin up. He stares at the sky, choking on the blood gushing out of his stomach. He dies in my arms. I should bury him. Send him peace's way. But I don't.

I have to leave, so I steal two larger blades from him. Once I'm sure Boyce is unconscious I sneak out towards the woods. The cool breeze hits my face lightly. I inhale it. Appreciating the short moment. I arrive at the edge of the woods. The moon casting a glow on me. It takes a while for me to adjust to the darkness, but once I do, I swiftly move through the woods. After a while I sit down. Just for a bit. I need to keep moving. Someone will surely find the men. I should have hidden Boyce and Jacks, but no, that would have made too much noise. What's done is done. All I can hope for is that I make it out alive. If they find me I can't imagine what would happen. The bark of the tree behind me bites into my back, while I try to gulp down as much air into my burning lungs, which are threatening to jump out of my aching chest any minute now. I hear the owls coo out murderer, the wind whispering killer. The blood has dried up already. Creasing and lumping in my hands. I start scratching it off. It comes in small flakes slowly being whisked away by the air. I notice a tear forming. I let it fall. Just one tear that bears the weight of a waterfall. The blood is everywhere, on my skin, in my hair, on my clothes. I hate it. I hate the way it felt, the way it feels. 

The way I enjoyed it. 

Enjoyed plugging that knife into his stomach and watching him die. Watching them die. I'm a monster. That's what they all said in the mines. That's what they whispered, or yelled or screamed or punched or choked. Choked me until all I could feel, think or breath was my evil. My inner monster. I was told I was special. I was told I could kill a million lives. I close my eyes, tears spilling down my cheeks, onto my lips. The salty droplets land on my tongue. I let the taste sink into my body, sink into me. 

 A twig snaps. My eyes snap open as I see a shadow in the trees. My knuckles turn white as I grip my blades tighter. 

"Went out for a midnight stroll did you?" Lucas asks, with his devilish eyes. With his wicked grin. Lucas asks as he walks into the woods. He found me. All I can do is stare into those brown eyes. The blood long forgotten. I need to keep it together, I need to leave, to escape. If he gets his hand on me the king will kill me. I'm most certain he's sending his men out to bring me to the mainland, to make a spectacle of me. I will not die. Not today or tomorrow or years to follow. I will survive, for my mother, my father, my sister. My little Elodie. 

"The weather is quite nice actually and I was getting bored in that tent, a bit too stuffy for my taste." I drawl. He steps into the moonlight. 

"Is that so?", he asks curiously.

"Mhm", I reply slowly moving backwards. "I should get going," I smile. He doesn't stop me from moving backwards. I'm almost out of the light when I hit something. Turning around I see a man behind me. Shit.

"You brought company?" I ask. More men emerging from the shadows. Making a circle. 

Oh shit.

 "Lots of company". I say to myself.

The men aren't wearing any armor. I could easily stab them. How many lives will I take? I stand tall, not daring to show weakness. Fear is a mind killer. It holds every thought in your head until you can't think anymore. It holds all your pain, all your suffering. Suffocating you in it until you can't breathe. It holds you there, holds you there until it tips you over and then you do really die. You do really suffocate in your pain. It holds you there until all you can think of is the pain. The pain that kills you slowly, inch by inch until all that's left of you is the shimmer of a thought that you'll still be ok. But then it crushes that too doesn't it.

"Couldn't fight me on your own, huh?" I say turning back to him. The guard doesn't move forward, does not take my weapons, doesn't do anything. They're waiting for a command. 

"No, I just didn't want you to run away, although I could easily catch you." He answers simply. 

"You sure? I'm quite fast.", maybe I can trick him, make him think it's a game. He doesn't take the bait.

"As lovely as that might sound, maybe another day," he's so cool and collected. His eyes glistening under the moonlight. I notice a few open blades strapped to his body. He came to fight. He'll get one. 

I swiftly plunge my dagger into the guard's neck. He reaches for me, but the blood choked him, as he falls to his knees. The other men start moving towards me, but pause when Lucas gives them a signal. He wants me to himself. Interesting. Without the guard I just stabbed, there are eight guards left. I don't have any throwing daggers, so everything would have to be hand to hand combat. If I kill Lucas they'll definitely attack me. Maybe I could try to sprint it. I'm small and it's dark. 

"That's two"

 I realize what he's saying. I realize he's talking about Jacks. The way I mercilessly stole his life. I forgot. I forgot that when I handed him over to death, I also stole a father, a son, a brother, a husband. I stole the person a child would run to, I stole a person a mother would coddle, I stole a person someone would talk to when they had no one else but themselves to confine in. A ruthless monster, that's what I am. A person who steals until nothing is left.

"Liked the surprise I left? Quite easy actually, I thought the king's guards would be more…disciplined,"I mock. I mock and I don't mean it. Jacks would have killed me, but he stopped, he would have killed me, but he had orders not to. Because of his loyalty he died.

"By all means Gray, try fighting all of us," he smirks. 

"That would be unfair," I try to bargain. He understands what I'm trying to say.

"If you pin me down, I'll let you go," he smiles at me. He smiles at me like he can see the fear inside me. Like he can grab it and bring it out of me. Fear is a mind-killer. I repeat that to myself slowly.

"And if I don't?" I ask. 

"You willingly ride back home."

Home. Such an odd word. My home was with my mother and father, my sister. But they're all dead. 

"That isn't my home." I reply coldly, gripping my blades tighter and stepping into the circle. After a pause he steps forward, reaching for his blades and tossing them to the floor, all but for a simple knife smirking at me as he does so. I don't fall for it. My blades stay tightly in my hands. He starts walking in a circle, I mimic his steps.

"Why not?", he asks simply. Genuine interest in his eyes. I dodge the question instead asking him ,"What makes a home?". He thinks for a while. Stalling. He doesn't break eye contact. 

"A home," Lucas stars, his voice thoughtful, "is a place where your heart finds peace. It's where you feel safe, loved, and whole. But for some, it's a place they never truly find."

I glare at him, my blades still in hands, every muscle in my body tensed. His words hang in the air, both unsettling and intriguing. "And what if that place is lost? What if the only thing you have left is the fight for survival?"

Lucas' eyes soften, just for a moment, before he regains his composure. "Then you fight," he replies simply. "You fight until there's nothing left of you but the fight."

He suddenly lunges at me, breaking the uneasy stalemate. My instincts kick in as I bring my blades up to defend myself. The initial clash of steel is sharp and jarring, and I feel the impact reverberate through my bones. I deflect his first strike, but he's strong, clearly training his whole life. Lucky for him I have too. Each swing he makes is calculated, his movements precise.

We circle each other, blades flashing in the moonlight. I manage to land a glancing blow on his arm. He doesn't even flinch. He responds with a vicious counter, slashing across my side. The cut is shallow, but the pain sharpens my focus. I try to use the adrenaline to my advantage, swinging my dagger in a wide arc that Lucas easily dodges. He's playing with me. 

The fight is a blur of movement and noise. I press forward, attempting to overwhelm him with a flurry of strikes. Lucas deflects my blows with practiced ease, his smirk never fading. I'm breathing heavily, my muscles burning with the effort of keeping up. He's faster and stronger, and the more we fight, the more apparent it becomes. I could probably beat him within two minutes, but my weak, unnourished body can barely defend myself. 

"Giving up, gray?"

"Please I'm just getting started," I retort breathlessly. He chuckles.

His attacks become more aggressive. He strikes to my left, then pivots and swings for my right. I barely manage to block in time, my blade catching his strike with a clang. I feel the jarring impact shoot up my arm, and my footing falters. Sensing an opening, Lucas moves in close, his blade slicing through the air towards my chest. I twist away, narrowly avoiding a deadly blow, but the edge of his blade grazes my shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pain through me. I bite my lip, drawing blood, stumbling back, trying to regain my balance. My heart races as I realize how close I am to losing. 

God am I rusty! 

Lucas presses the attack, his movements fluid and relentless. I duck under a high swing and retaliate with a low swipe aimed at his legs. He jumps back, easily avoiding the lazy strike, but I see the surprise in his eyes, for a brief moment. I Jump up swinging my blades faster and faster, hoping I'll at least hit something. My method seems to work, as I graze his cheek, drawing blood. He quickly reacts, striking one of my blades out of my hand. Shit.

Desperation fuels my next attack. I launch myself at him with renewed energy, my singular blade a blur as I strike with everything I have left. He lands a blow on my thigh, making me draw breath.

The wound slows me down, and Lucas seizes the opportunity. He disarms me with a swift move, knocking my blade from my hand. I try to grab for it, but he kicks it away, rendering me weaponless. I scramble to my feet, desperation driving me to fight with my fists, but Lucas is faster. He grabs me by the collar and slams me against a tree, the impact making my vision blur.

I struggle to break free, but he pins me down with a knee on my chest. The air is knocked out of me, and I gasp for breath, my strength waning. Lucas leans in close, his face inches from mine. " Not many people have drawn blood from me, that was impressive" he says, his voice low and almost gentle. His grin sending shivers down my spine. "But bravery alone cannot save you."

"You could", I pant, my hatred for his blindness bubbling to the surface, "You could let me go now, but you're too blind by your loyalties that you don't see the true evil. The king will kill me, an innocent girl for just being born. And you, you're doing nothing to stop it" my breath slows.

With a final glance. Lucas grabs my wrists and forces me to the ground. The fight drains from me, leaving me exhausted and vulnerable. My strength ebbs away as he binds my hands behind my back, the chains biting into my skin. I look up at him, seeing the faint traces of regret in his eyes as he secures the restraints.

He stands up, brushing off his hands. "You've had your chance," he says. "Now it's time to face the consequences."

As they drag me back towards the camp, the weight of everything settles in my bones. The moon fades from view, disappearing behind the thick canopy of trees, just like my last shred of hope. I realize now how foolish I was to cling to it. Hope is a poison, curling around your heart, convincing you to believe in things that can never be. My home is gone. My family, my mother, my father, my sister, they're all gone. I have no one left. Nothing left.

It took me far too long to face that truth. And now, as they pull me through the dirt, chains biting into my wrists, I let the last of my hope die. I decide that I will survive, that I will not let them break me again. All that's left of me is revenge. Revenge for my mother, father, sister. Revenge for my kingdom, revenge for the thousands of people suffering, dying. 

Revenge for me.

 I will be a monster who feels nothing. I feel nothing. 

I am numb.

So, so numb.

 Chapter 5

I'm an hourglass. 

The grains of sand are my life slipping away. It slowly runs out until there's almost nothing left. And I'm almost saved. Almost free, so close to peace. And then someone turns it over and it starts all over again. All the pain and suffering starts again. And I'm falling into it, drowning in it. The sand suffocating me, entering my lungs. Until all I feel, taste and breathe is the sand. The pain and sorrow. As it suffocates me, as it pushes me into it. Engulfing me. As I fall and fall and fall. All that's left of me is nothing. Nothing. Because that's what I am to people. A hopeless soul. 

I 

am

nothing. 

He took my weapons away, took the keys and locked my chains. I'm completely at their mercy. All I know is that I'm being taken to the capital of Aaraliyn. Probably so the king can make a spectacle of me, the daughter of the dead queen, the daughter of the parents who couldn't even keep their own kingdom safe, who couldn't even keep their own daughter safe. Their own child. Their own children. 

My little Elodie. 

I block out the thought. Shove it in a box, lock it and throw it into the fire of my slowly burning soul. She is with the stars now.

Someone is outside the tent. I hear boots shuffling. A man emerges. He walks towards me, grabbing my arms. He starts leading me out of the tent. There he is. Lucas. He's currently preparing a horse. 

A horse!

I've always hated horses. Wild, magnificent beasts. My father tried to teach me, tried to get me on one, but I was too stubborn. He would then laugh, and I would cry, and then my mother would come. She would coddle me, hug me, kiss me, tell me it's alright. She would tell me I wouldn't have to go on one if I didn't want to. My father would then get angry. A tradition, he would say. It was a tradition for the oldest daughter to parade through the streets, smiling and waving on a horse on the day she started to bleed. And then my mother would say how she always hated that tradition, how it undermined girls, how it undermined her. The tradition was then banned, stopped, removed. People got angry; people didn't want the tradition to go. To disappear into nothing. But my mother insisted, and beauty always gets what they want, doesn't it?

The horse now stands in front of me, its black fur like the midnight sky. It's beautiful, I think.

And dangerous. Screams my common sense. 

"I'd really appreciate it if you could get on the horse yourself and not make me force you onto it," someone says. Not someone. Lucas. I dramatically roll my eyes.

"You'll have to kill me before I get on that thing," I reply, annoyed.

"What? Have you never ridden a horse before?", he smirks.

"Of course I have," I reply quickly. Another lie.

At that, he laughs. "You really never have ridden a horse before."

"As I said I hav-," my answer is cut short as he grabs me by the waist and hoists me over it. 

"Lucas!" I yell, but he just laughs again, unfazed.

I'm perched awkwardly on the horse, its muscles tense beneath me, and I feel a surge of panic. My hands, still chained, are useless for holding on properly. I look down at him, glaring, but he just smirks up at me.

"You'll thank me later," he says, patting the horse's side. "Would've been easier if you'd just gotten on by yourself, you know."

I roll my eyes. "Easier for you, maybe. Not for me."

"You really are impossible," Lucas mutters, crossing his arms and watching me with that irritating grin. "What's the big deal? You act like I'm about to kill you."

I tilt my head, frowning. "You are literally dragging me to the capital in chains. It's basically an invitation for death. So yes, theoretically you are killing me."

His smile falters slightly, his eyes narrowing. "It's not like I asked for this, you know. Not everything's about you."

I laugh bitterly. "Right, of course. You're just following orders like a good little soldier. What's your reward for delivering me, Lucas? A promotion? Gold? Or maybe you get to be the king's lapdog now?"

His jaw tightens at that, but he doesn't respond immediately. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. The horse stands still, snorting softly, seemingly content to wait.

"Believe it or not," Lucas finally says, his voice low, "the king probably won't kill you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me."

He sighs, combing a hand through his hair, glancing away for a moment before locking eyes with me again. "Look, if he wanted you dead, why send all these men to get you, why not just kill you on the spot? It's much easier." I pause, taken aback by the sharpness in his tone. There's something beneath the surface, something he's not saying. But I'm not about to let him off that easily, yet his words linger. Why wouldn't he just kill me? 

"Then tell me," I say, leaning forward ever so slightly, not to fall off this goddamn horse . "What am I missing, Lucas? Enlighten me."

For a moment, I think he might. His eyes flicker with something—regret, frustration, maybe even a hint of guilt. But then it's gone, and his mask is back in place.

"You'll find out soon enough," he says quietly, turning away. "We need to get moving."

—

 He got on the horse with me. I mean of course he wouldn't let me ride a horse alone, but now I'm desperately grabbing at everything but his waist and to make matters worse, whenever this stupid beast stops, moves, trips or even twitches I'm basically being shoved into his back. He seems unfazed. Of course he seems unfazed. 

We've been riding for hours. I'm getting more than annoyed, especially because with every second that passes, I'm closer to death. Well, an uncertain death. What Lucas said makes sense, but at the same time, why would he bother? He's a soldier with a low pay, who'd do anything to support his family. At least, I think he gets paid badly. Zarathis never paid their soldiers well, always cheating their way out of the system, so I'm assuming the king isn't going to change everything for Aaraliyn either. I've heard here and there that the king moved the capital to Aaraliyn, another thing to mock us by, and because I'm being dragged back to my once home, I'm guessing I'll meet him there.

A new thought sparks. Where is the prince? I heard the guards talk about him before…

Before I killed him. I force myself to finish the thought, forcing myself to remember and acknowledge that I killed a person. A human being. What scares me is that I felt nothing. I mean, I felt bad. But in the end, it was one of his soldiers. A soldier who took many lives before.

The horse stops suddenly, a big jolt that sends me flying straight into his back. His very muscular back, I realize. Most soldiers in the mines never had very many muscles, only on their arms, but him… He has muscles everywhere, lining each of his features.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

He climbs off the horse, the saddle shifting under him. I take a sharp breath. The other soldiers around us also dismount. They start pulling out equipment from their sacks, setting up a sort of camp.

"And I thought you didn't like horses?" Lucas's voice startles me.

"And I thought you didn't care," I snap back, narrowing my eyes at him.

He smirks, crossing his arms. "I just find it amusing watching you try to act tough, when you're clearly out of your element."

I glare at him, my temper flaring. "I'm not out of my element."

"Sure," he says, rolling his eyes as he turns to help the others set up camp. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

 It's unusually cold. I mean one would expect it to be cold, we're in Aaraliyn after all. But I'm almost positive it's summer, maybe we're near water. 

"What season is it?" I ask Lucas, as I shovel flavorless food into my mouth. We're currently leaning against a tree, again. Funny how that always happens. 

"Summer." He answers flatly. "So curious out of a sudden."

I ignore him, instead asking another question, "where is the prince?" He stiffens suddenly, changing the topic, "what's that trinket of yours.", now it's my turn to stiffen. The bracelet in my boot, the one my mother gave me. Ever since I was locked up I hid it in my boot, it must have made some noise.

I instinctively pull my legs closer, hiding the bracelet in the shadow of my body. His gaze lingers on it, brow furrowing, and I can feel his curiosity. But I'm not about to tell him. It's mine, the last piece of her I have left.

"It's… nothing," I say curtly, meeting his eyes with defiance. He doesn't press immediately, though he doesn't look away either.

"Didn't seem like nothing a moment ago," he replies, his voice low but oddly gentle. "Looks like something important."

I grit my teeth, swallowing the urge to snap back. Instead, I force myself to focus on the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance, each spark dying as quickly as a new one is born.

"It doesn't matter," I say finally, my voice barely a whisper, "nothing matters now."

He studies me for a moment longer before finally turning away, as if sensing that whatever lies beneath my answer is something he won't get to see tonight. We sit there. The silence stretching long before us. Tomorrow I'll be handed to the king. Tomorrow my life will officially end. It's not the worst fate. I already lost my parents, my sister, my kingdom. 

She's with the Stars now.

 I remind myself, trying to ease the ache that lingers every time I think of my mother, of Elodie, of everything I've lost. Lucas silently stands up to leave, allowing my thoughts to myself. Once he's gone I quickly remove the bracelet, feeling the cold metal press into my skin, grounding me. I slide it onto my arm, bringing it up to my elbow. 

I've lost everything. But at the same time the thought of simply surrendering to him. Surrendering to the one person who killed everything I loved. Brutally murdered them. I'm reminded of the promise I made while being dragged back to the camp. Revenge. The thought of that leaves me angry. 

And people do bad things when they are angry…

Very, very bad things.

—

We've finally arrived. The castle towers above us, it's dark silhouette perched high atop the mountain like a crown of stone. I take a sharp breath, the ocean breeze biting against my skin and filling my lungs with its salty sting. The path narrows as we near the edge of the Capitol, where the fields of the farmers stretch before us. Houses are in sight, all glued together. A village. It's dirty, even from my view. The crops look sparse, and the people even more so. Their shoulders sag, their faces lined with exhaustion, yet their eyes burn with something sharper, resentment.

One man in the crowd locks eyes with me, his face twisted with fury, and suddenly, he shouts. His voice ignites a wave, and more people take up the chant, voices rising as we draw nearer. Lucas stiffens beside me, drawing a sharp breath. "Look down and close your eyes," he whispers. Something in his voice cuts through me, and before I know it, I'm obeying, lowering my gaze and squeezing my eyes shut. 

The chanting grows louder, each word carving itself into my mind, vibrating through my bones. "Killers!" they scream again. "Betrayers!" Another voice roars, "We want equality!" The words come faster now, blending into a single wave of fury that crashes over us. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears.

I clutch the saddle tighter, trying to block out the noise.

 Just keep your eyes shut, Vieve. Don't look. 

The cries grow louder, the air vibrating with their anger.

And then, without warning, everything stops.

Silence falls, thick and heavy, pressing against my ears. I feel the hairs on my arms rise, and my breath catches in my throat. I don't dare open my eyes. Not yet.

It's not just the crowd that's gone quiet. There's no sound at all. No wind, no clatter of hooves, not even the distant crash of the ocean waves. It's as if the world itself has been muted.

I risk a glance, opening my eyes just a sliver. One of the guards sits rigid atop his horse, his hand outstretched, his fingers curling as though gripping something invisible. His eyes burn with a cold intensity, and the air around him seems to shimmer faintly.

The crowd stares back at him, their mouths moving silently, their chants stolen mid-syllable. The silence presses against my ears, unnatural and oppressive.

"Keep riding!" Lucas yells, his voice cutting through the void like a blade.

I can feel the stares of the townspeople, the weight of their anger now laced with fear. The absence of their voices is worse than the shouting, it feels as though the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

The guard's power doesn't fade until we're well past the edge of the crowd. The moment sound returns, the clink of reins, the distant crash of waves I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"What…what was that?" I whisper, my voice trembling despite myself.

Lucas doesn't spare a glance, his voice unreadable. "A warning," he says simply.

I glance back over my shoulder, but the crowd is already fading from view. My heart pounds in my chest, louder than any chant could have been. Whatever that guard just did, it wasn't for their benefit. It was for ours.

It was a reminder.

There is no room for defiance here.

—

It's Different here. The pavement is clean, the walls well-kept, even the air smells fresher, cleaner. The houses aren't squeezed in between each other. Flowers bloom by the sills. Shops with clear windows, allowing one to look inside and see the beautiful interior. The people walk with practiced grace, their carriages adorned like parade floats, while their horses wear more decoration than most peasants can afford. Clearly people notice the rugged, dirty beasts were on, because they curiously look towards us, whispering to each other. I quickly glance at myself, clearly not up to the standards of these people. They don't yell, just stare and whisper. For some reason it's worse than the yelling. 

Uptight fuckers.

Aaraliyn is so different. I never would walk the streets like I was better than someone. Never would see horses dressed up as if they were attending a pageant. People would laugh and the streets would be buzzing with energy. It was nice.

A little girl squeals, clearly not understanding the poise these assholes are supposed to keep. 

"Mother, look it's the prince!" She says excitedly. Everyone looks at the pair disgusted as the mother grabs the child and hurries away into the nearest store. I look around, the prince clearly not here. As a matter of fact I haven't seen the prince throughout this whole trip. Maybe someone in front of us is holding a banner with his face on it. Pathetic.

We start going uphill. The castle growing closer and closer. I start to recognise it. The pillars, statues all made of pure gold, but where vines and flowers bloomed around them now lie overgrown. The once beautiful flowers now wilted and dead, their former beauty lost to time. We near a gate, two guards stationed on either side. 

Suddenly the wind rushes before us, blowing my hair into the strong breeze. I look up, the sight leaving my mouth hanging. It's been a while since I've seen a dragon, but its beauty does not disappoint. Dark green scales catch the sunlight like living emeralds, and for a moment, I'm a child again, watching dragons soar over our kingdom's borders. Before everything changed. Before we lost it all. 

The dragon looks small from this distance, as if I could just keep it in my pocket, but everyone knows that's far from the truth. I squint to try and see its tail, from this distance it's either a scorpiontail or a daggertail, both are beautiful. Both would make a magnificent dragon. But to be honest no matter what kind of dragon each project a power no fae could ever dream of achieving. 

We don't even stop by the gate, the guards seeming to recognise us, open it allowing a smooth entry. Servants arrive, taking Lucas's horse as well as others. They don't say a word, keeping their eyes down. They look sad, miserable. My parents would always treat their staff with all but respect, making them laugh and smile. I would make friends with them, eat and dance with them. I doubt that's what they have here. I begin to dismount, clearly struggling. Lucas reaches for my waist. 

" I can do it on my own," I spit. Lucas was the only one who kept me company, made me smile, but the sun has risen and play time is over. I need to face this with the last of my dignity. Chin up. He doesn't answer simply backing off. I finally manage to get off this beast, accidentally touching its fur. It's soft, comforting. I smile to myself. Maybe horses aren't that bad after all.

"Licorice likes you," his voice startles me, bringing me back to reality.

"Licorice? What kind of name is that," I ask, my back facing him.

"The kind that a 12 year old Lucas would choose," he responds playfully, clearly trying to set the mood. How can he expect me to be happy, after everything that's happened. My mother died. My father was killed. My sister is gone. I lost my kingdom, my people, my birthright. Everything my heart held dear, swept away. I've lost everything and he expects me to smile, to laugh. He expects me to make jokes with him, when I'm heading straight to my death, walking willingly there. He expects me to be fine with all of this, because it's the king. The king wants this. He's as blind as someone without sight. Not seeing the king for what he is. And I'm done playing nice. 

"What is wrong with you?", I demand my back still facing him. My fingers shake, so I close them into tight fists, my knuckles turning white. I slowly turn around and look him dead in the eyes. My anger boiling. Flowing out of the pot that can't contain it. "Do you think this is some kind of game? That your little jokes and sweet words will make me forget everything I've lost? My life is gone. And for what? To please him?" The laugh that leaves me is as cold as ice. 

Lucas's playful smile falters, replaced by a shadow of guilt. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it, as if he knows nothing he says will fix this.

"You stand there, trying to lighten the mood, trying to distract me like I'm some fragile child who can't handle the truth. But I'm not blind, Lucas. I see him for what he is, even if you refuse to. And if you're too much of a coward to admit it, that's on you. But don't you dare stand there and act like this is all fine. It's not fine. None of this is fine."

I feel my breath hitch, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. The pot now completely submerged. "You might have chosen to serve him, serve his sons, to follow his orders like a loyal dog, but I didn't. I didn't choose any of this." I pant, gritting my teeth so as not to show weakness

Lucas takes a hesitant step closer, his voice soft but firm. "Isadora, I—"

"No," I snap, cutting him off. "Don't. Just… don't. I've lost too much to pretend this is anything but what it is. A prison with golden gates"

For a moment, we just stand there, the weight of my words settling between us like a suffocating fog. The once comforting sound of horses and bustling servants now feels distant, drowned out by the thundering in my chest.

"Licorice likes you," Lucas finally murmurs, his voice almost too soft to hear.

I shake my head, "then Licorice has terrible taste."

Guards walk toward us, stationing themselves behind me. Lucas nods to them, stealing a quick glance at me. I don't dare meet his eyes, letting my gaze drift forward instead. He starts leading the way through the castle.

The paintings of my ancestors are gone, as are all the decorations that once hinted we lived here. The gold sparkles, the windows clear as water. My parents never were fond of flaunting their wealth, but this castle is as old as the mountain it sits atop so they never rebuild it. Perhaps my father did enjoy being called "king of the riches", and my mother "queen of all". Aaraliyn was the most powerful kingdom of Liella, with all its crops and close connection to the dragons. Everyone knew it. It was an unspoken truth. But my parents would never use this power against the rest. They were fair. I'm assuming things like that have changed now. 

I'm surprised the dragons haven't lashed out at Dairyus yet. My ancestors formed an alliance with the dragons to protect their hatching grounds, inconveniently located at the border of our lands. The Heart-Accord, it was called, safeguarded the Primera from harm. My family would guard the borders with their lives. But now, with the king in power, the alliance must be broken, leaving half of the Primera in danger. Then again no one defies the dragons. No one is as powerful as them. Only the dark wielders were really strong enough. Dark magic was always more powerful. But with power comes greed and greed can really only means death and destruction. 

We arrive at large double doors. The throne room. Lucas stiffens, straightening. So do all guards around me. I will not be scared of him. I force my muscles to relax, force my jaw to unclench. Lucas takes a deep breath and nods at the guards by the entrance. Without a word the double doors swing open, revealing the massive throne room. No guards litter the room, no court, not even a few spectators. The guards behind me stay by the entrance, as the doors shut. A bang that sends shivers down my arms. I keep my chin high.

 Other than me and Lucas only two others are in the room. The king sits on a throne, completely different to my parents' thrones. Where two equally large thrones stood, now only stands one. It's larger than any throne I've ever seen. So large it could easily fit two. It's solid gold like the rest of the throne room, snakes curving up around it. Two diamonds replace each snake's eye, black gems trailing down their scales. 

Two smaller thrones stand behind the main one. A young man sits on one, his blonde hair reflecting off the gold. I look into his eyes. Green meets grey as I stare into them. Liam. The heir to the throne. His gaze is cold, yet soft in a way I can't explain. I look over to the last throne. It's empty. Where is Liam's brother Lucas? I freeze, realization striking like a blade. How had I not noticed before? The name alone should have given it away. I look to the empty throne, then back to Lucas. The blonde hair he shares with Liam. Those brown eyes that echo their father's. The pieces click into place with devastating clarity - I've been trading barbs with the prince himself. The second son of the man who murdered my parents.

" Son, I see you've completed your mission," his voice pierces the room. The voice of a monster, the voice of a killer. I look at him, but his gaze is on his son, seemingly uninterested. 

"Yes," he clips, swallowing away the guilt, "father." He bows, then walks up to the elevated podium, nodding at his brother as he sits on the empty throne. I stand there, not daring to show weakness. I will never willingly bow to him. Dairyus finally looks towards me. His gaze so strong, those eyes piercing mine like a knife. I almost look away, but I will my body not to. 

"You will bow girl," he says, his voice low and venomous, echoing with cruel authority, "low". He smirks at me, seemingly content. I will never bow to the monster who killed my parents, they didn't and they would have never wanted me to. They would rather die than bow to anyone and so will I. 

"No," I say, steel lacing my voice, my fists clenched at my sides. My voice echoes after his. " And it's Genevieyve Argent Isadora Demaris, queen of the bloom kingdom, Aaraliyn," I say, letting the title linger in the air before finishing, "to you." I respond, matching his grin with a sarcastic one of my own. I suppose now that my parents are dead I would be the queen. The title feels raw, foreign , a thorn in my throat, but I'll wield it like a blade if I must. I look towards Lucas, but he doesn't seem surprised in the least. My chin stays high, even as my heart pounds against my ribs like a drum. I will not bow. 

Three men emerge behind a hidden door, two dressed like guards. But not like the guards I've seen. They're obviously of higher rank. The third man looks of even higher rank. They completely ignore me, instead bowing at the king's feet. 

"My king," the third one says, finally standing up. The other two follow, echoing the same words. The king barely spares them a glance, still keeping his full attention on me. That's when I notice a long, leathery whip attached to the third guard's belt. I've always hated torture, so did my parents, but a whip was my least favourite form of it. No fae should be treated like an animal. The dignity one loses is immense and the thought of Lucas seeing this…

Why do I even care what he thinks? He's as cruel as his father, lying to me from the beginning.

"This really didn't have to be like this Genevieyve," Dairyus says ,his voice casual, "take your shirt off". I look at Lucas, but I will not plead. He simply shifts to look at the floor, clearly not intending to do anything about this. Either way I will end up on the floor with a whip to my back. In the mines they would simply drag you there, shirt on. But even I knew those whips were cheap, the leather weak. Although it did hurt like hell. The leather of the guards whip looks expensive and even from this distance I can tell it's twice as thick. I can take my shirt off, but I will not bow, never. 

I slowly pull the shirt off, my chains clattering as it goes. I do not miss sight of the guards eyes as they linger on my breasts. I outgrew my bra years ago, finding no use in it. Women were never provided with the needed things. Not even on the days they bled. So I gave my bra to a girl.

 She died a few weeks later anyways. 

I take a deep breath, throwing the ragged shirt to the floor. Dairyus looks unimpressed, "Now kneel," he commands. His eyes sparkling at the challenge. I look over to Liam, he returns my glare with bright green. His eyes like stone, no emotion at all.

 So both sons are stubborn cowards, how great.

 I don't bother to respond to Dairyus, instead showing my answer through my unmoving body. I don't hide my cleavage, as much as I want to, I keep my hands by my side, forming strong fists. 

"When the king gives you an order you tend to follow it," Liam's voice surprises even the king, as we stare at him. His green eyes ,so bright, shooting daggers at me. I take a deep breath, letting my tongue run loose even though I know I shouldn't.

"I'm sorry, I don't take orders. I barely take suggestions," I drawl, the challenge in my voice clear. 

Dairyus's grin widens, cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. Liam's about to answer when Dairyus speaks, "Stubbornness is an admirable quality in a ruler, but in your case, Genevieyve, it's simply pathetic."

"I prefer to think of it as strength," I reply coolly, holding his gaze. "Something you wouldn't understand."

His smile falters for a moment, but he recovers quickly, chuckling darkly. "Strength? You're mistaken. Strength is knowing when to bow, when to yield. You're just a child playing queen."

"And yet, here you are," I say, letting my sarcasm drip with venom, "wasting your time trying to make a child kneel before you. Is that what makes you feel powerful, Dairyus?"

The air between us grows tense, the room crackling with unspoken threats. The guards eyes widen at how I addressed their king. I'm probably one of the only people who have ever called him by his first name, but he will not scare me and if he thinks I will ever call him anything but ,he is very mistaken. He stands up from his throne, slowly walking over to me. I don't dare cower, don't dare move. 

"You have no idea what true power is, Genevieyve," He takes a step closer, leaning in until his face is mere inches from mine. "But you will. Because you will help me gain it," he whispers, his voice dangerously low.

If he ever believed I would help him, help my parents' killer then he's about to be very disappointed. I lift my chin defiantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I would rather die, than help a monster bring our world to ruin."

His lips curl into a sneer, and he steps back, his expression cold. "Are you sure? Is there really nothing in this world that means more to you than revenge?"

His question lingers. My parents are dead, my crown gone. What could be more important to me than bringing him down along with his reign? What would be so important to me that I would help the monster who stole everything important from me? Nothing.

Elodie. 

My little sister, my doll, my angel. The one person whose fate is uncertain, the one person I would burn the world to save, burn the world to hold, to coddle. Realisation cuts into me. What if she's alive? What if there is a way to save her? Would I take it? Would I risk the world to hold her in my arms one more time? 

The guards split, moving to either side of me with deliberate, bone-chilling precision. Their movements are heavy, calculated. I can't focus on one, uncertain of what is happening. Each one grabs my arms, their grip tight, so tight it could crush bone if they wanted to. I bite back a gasp, the pain sharp and immediate. 

Bruisers.

 A great power for the battlefield, able to crush bones if wanted. Their power isn't rare, but not common either. I hiss in pain, their grip not meant to be gentle. They pull my arms, almost popping a joint. I desperately glance at Lucas or even Liam, but they both bite their tongues. Lucas on the other hand at least looks a bit worried. Guilt flashes in his eyes.

 Someone kicks me from behind. My breath hitches as my knees slam into the cold tiles. I try to scram up, but the bruisers hold me tight, their grip promising pain. The king moves from my view and starts circling me, his footsteps echo, his presence a dark cloud closing in. I hear the whip being pulled out. It trails down my back, it's cold leather brushing over the scars of past punishments. I arch away instinctively, only for another swift kick to drive me back into place. Pain flares in my stomach, but I swallow the scream rising in my throat.

 I will not scream.

I've been through this before, I know how to pace myself. I take a deep breath, awaiting the punishment. The first strike is the least but most painful at the same time. It cuts through freshly healed wounds, ripping the skin, but the lashes after that sometimes layer on top of each other, cutting deeper and deeper each time. The thought of that kind of pain again leaves me almost shaking, almost. 

The whip cracks against my back, the echo loud and ear-splitting. I squeeze my eyes shut, biting on my tongue and drawing blood. I feel my skin opening up, hot, thick blood running down my back. I take a deep breath only releasing it once the whip cracks again. The mines were a blessing compared to this. The guard, probably a bruiser as well, is strong, his lashes cutting deeper than any I've ever experienced. The hard leather sticks to my skin. It's covered in a kind of burning acid, as it enters my raw flesh. The sensation sends a new wave of pain crashing into me, but I do not scream, the pain on my face probably visible. He strikes for the third time, hitting the same spot, my skin cuts deep, the acid doubling the pain. I grunt, screaming internally. 

The whip cracks against my back again, the searing pain tearing through me, as fresh blood spills from the wounds. My breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps, but I refuse to scream.

Dairyus's voice cuts through the haze of agony, calm and deliberate. "I'm sure you've heard about the Dark Wielders, Genevieyve. Your mother must have told you stories about them."

Another strike lands, the whip biting into my flesh like a serpent with burning venom. My vision blurs, but his voice anchors me. 

"Well, those stories are true," he continues, his tone almost conversational. "And I'm seeking something unimaginable to most."

Crack.

The whip digs deeper, hitting the same spot as before. I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches. My breath comes in shuddering gasps, my sweat mixing with blood as it drips onto the floor.

"I need you to unlock something for me," Dairyus says, stepping closer, his words a cruel caress. "Something only you can unlock—with your blood."

Crack.

This time, a scream nearly escapes, but I choke it back, my body trembling from the effort. I feel tears streaming down my face like a never-ending waterfall. 

"But not just any blood," he murmurs, leaning in so his breath brushes my ear. "I need your blood with magic flowing through it."

Another lash, the acid-laced leather ripping through my back. I can't stop the cry that slips out, low and guttural. My resolve falters, but I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood.

"You will attend Navarra Military Academy," he says, his voice growing more stern. "You will pass your exams. You will mount a dragon and claim its magic."

Crack.

The force of the blow sends me forward, the bruisers holding me upright. My arms ache in their iron grip, and my head hangs, sweat and tears dripping onto the tiles.

"And then," Dairyus says, his tone chillingly final, "you will unlock what I need. You will assist me until I get what I want."

Crack.

This time, the whip tears a ragged scream from my throat. I can't hold it in anymore. The pain is too much, the acid too sharp. My body trembles, and I can barely lift my head.

"You know why you'll do this for me, Genevieyve?" he asks, crouching to meet my eyes. He uses his hand to hold my chin upright, forcing me to stare into his eyes, his cruel smile cuts deeper than the whip ever could. "Because your sister is alive and well. And I will kill her if you do not comply."

My breath catches, his words cutting through the haze of pain. Elodie. She's alive. She didn't die, didn't have a cruel end. I could still save her, save the one thing I love in this world. I could run away with her, be with her. 

He steps back, letting his words sink in. "Your sweet little sister, Genevieyve. Do you remember her laugh? Her smile? Do you want to see her alive again or see her die because of your stubbornness?"

I'm shaking, my body broken but my mind racing. Could she really be alive? Could this monster truly have her? How is she? Did he hurt her? All those things don't matter at the moment. The only thing that matters is holding her in my arms. Having her there. Seeing her. Seeing the only thing I have left in this cruel world. 

"If—" I gasp, struggling to form words through the pain and the sob threatening to break free. "If I do this," I pant, each breath a struggle, "I want her released." My voice cracks, the plea hanging in the blood-tinged air. 

"Done," he responds quickly, as if she didn't mean anything to him, as if she is so easily given away, so easily used as leverage. I feel Liam and Lucas staring at me, but I don't spare them a glance. My only priority is getting Elodie out. My little Lodie.

 "How do I know… you're not lying?" I mange to choke out. The sting on my back almost unbearable. The only thing keeping me conscious is the possibility of seeing Elodie again.

Dairyus smirks, his victory palpable. "You'll simply have to trust me."

I stare at him, tears burning my eyes, my body trembling. I don't trust him. I never will, but what choice do I have? I either help a monster or let my vengeance kill the one thing I have left to love. 

"I'll do it," I whisper, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

He straightens, his expression one of triumph. "One day you will bow willingly."

I don't have time to answer as the bruisers release me and I collapse to the floor, panting and broken. I hear people rushing into the room. The pain on my back so unbreable. My sight starts to darken at the edges, the world slowly leaving. Stars cloud my vision. I feel warmth on my back, a soft, tingly sensation that sends all but relief into me.

The room spins, the world going black. But one thought anchors me: Elodie. If there's even a chance she's alive, I'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means sacrificing myself.