Chapter 1

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"Bring the prisoner forward!" Said the booming voice of his father behind him, echoing off the walls of the ornate throne room. Porchay's right hand shook where his dagger was clasped tightly.

The dagger looked like any other you could buy from a cheap blacksmith at any marketplace in the upper world but in reality, it was anything but. This dagger, despite its meek appearance, was one of the most powerful weapons in the realm, not because of the harm it could inflict but the power awarded to the user after the fact.

It was given to him by his father on his tenth birthday, when he was told that one day, he would use it to make his first fae kill. Back then and for nine years to come Chay would look at it everyday and pray to the goddesses that he would never have the chance to use it.

Nine years... He thought he would at least be able to reach his twentieth birthday before this day would come but alas, it was still four full moons away. And yet, here he was, and it sucked, well sucked was probably, definitely, an understatement.

A muscular man with a sack over his head was dragged into the chamber by two of his father's soldiers, stumbling every few steps with his impaired vison. He looked remarkably strong for someone locked up in the palace dungeons for god knows how long and left unrestrained, he could probably overpower Chay's lanky body easily if they were to fight in battle, Porchay silently thanked the chains around the prisoner's arms at the same time as a wave of sickness passed over him at the fact that a person was chained in the first place. Other than the chains, his torso was bear but luckily the bottom half of his tunic was still intact, Chay was glad the prisoner was going to have at least part of his dignity left before his inevitable end.

His end by your hands. His mind reminded him causing another wave of despair to course through him.

The man's torso was covered with ink unlike any human tattoo Chay had ever come across. The most prominent modification Porchay could see as the man moved slowly closer, were the vines that slid up his right arm to curl around his neck and shone silver in the candlelight. Captivating.

Despite the otherworldly way the tattoo sparkled, Chay doubted that was his mark, those kinds of tattoos were probably common in the lower world. Fae kind had abilities and were able to naturally wield magic in ways even the strongest human mage couldn't after decades of training. However, fae and humans were so similar in physical likeness that it incredibly hard to tell the difference between them just by looking, except for the fact all fae have a mark. All marks are different, sometimes they take the form of horns, or tails or even unusual skin colours or textures. Chay wondered for a split second what this man's was.

He broke his gaze away from the man to face his father behind him, the man made no attempt at encouraging words, not even an understanding smile would grace his lips, which wasn't surprising because "Smiles show weakness Chay, never be weak!" as he had said to Porchay many times before. Although he did nod towards the prisoner to indicate to Chay he needed to hurry up.

Chay turned back to the prisoner who had now been placed on his knees in the centre of the throne room, chained to the floor with his father's court forming a wide circle around him. Ministers and Lords alike yelling vile words at the figure.

Chay approached him slowly, step by step, until he was a few feet away, his fear preventing his from closing more distance. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing as to not make a fool of himself and began silently praying once more.

However, halfway through a prayer a deep husky voice that sounded like it hadn't been used in years, (maybe it hadn't) entered his ears. "Go on Prince-y, step closer, I won't bite."

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