The Witch's Son

Chapter 1

Prince Allen Walker trudged quietly through the forest path that led to the old house rumored to have caught a witch's occupation. The clumsy Prince, armed with only his favorite sword, was unknowingly nearing the old house as the sun set in the distance.

"Curse it all! I should have brought a torch to help guide my way!" The young prince said to himself as he stumbled along the narrow path.

The young noble had been walking for hours, his feet ached, his water had run dry, and he'd forgotten a light source.

He hoped his father wouldn't be too mad when he returned home... if he returns home.

"Or a horse, why on earth did I travel on foot again?" He mumbled to himself continuing on until the loud crack of a twig grabbed his attention.

"Who goes there?!" He asked pulling out his sword, only receiving silence in reply as he realized he had no idea where he was, the path no longer stretching out beneath him, that he was lost in the dark forest.

"The darn witch's home cannot be much farther ahead." He said to comfort himself but just as the words escaped him he tripped over something in the dark, a great pain shooting through his ankle as he fell, hitting his head on a large rock and knocking himself unconscious.

Allen Walker was a dreamer, a clumsy, innocent boy, but always happy none the less and trouble had seemed to follow on the boy's heels like a lost puppy everywhere he went...

When the prince awoke he found himself in a dark room, the only light from the moon streaming in through a window and a few small lit candles by the bedside.

Quickly he sat up, immediately regretting his decision as he grabbed his head, it pounded with a large migraine, and he found that his leg with the injured ankle was now tied down to the strange bed he lay in.

He looked around for his sword in the darkness and not being able to locate it he began struggling, working quickly in his fear to remove the restraints, the small sound of someone scoffing in the darkness making him freeze in his tracks.

"S-Show yourself p-person in the shadows! A-Are you the w-witch that lives in this swamp?" Allen stuttered in fear of the person who lurked in the shadows.

"I'm not a fucking witch!!" A man's angered voice rang out of the darkness.

"WITCH'S ARE GIRLS!" he yelled furiously, "THE CORRECT TERM IS WIZARD!"

And with that an angry magic man stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

His hair was blue, almost black in the moonlight, and it ran down to his hips like a silk waterfall. It was styled strangely for a man, in a loose ponytail that rested over of his right shoulder, the hair falling down his chest in a thick bundle. He wore a robe of black and white that was held closed by a single white rope around his waist, an odd looking stick holstered on his hip, and a pointed witch's hat was perched on his head.

Allen said nothing as he stared, wide eyed, at the gorgeous man before him. The longer his eyes laid upon the male the more he felt his fear leaving him until he was no longer scared though he knew he should have been.

"My apologizes, Wizard." Allen laughed lightheartedly, "May I ask, was it you who scoffed at my escape attempt from the darkness?"

"Che," the wizard repeated the same scoff, "who else would have done it, tis only you and I inside this chamber, Baka Moyashi."

Allen cocked his head at hearing the strange words roll from the man's tongue.

"What tongue might that be?" Allen asked as the man approached a shelf, a wave of his hand causing a candle on the bedside to float where he needed the light.