Shadows

 

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Prologue

Everyone is born with a shadow; a composition of both light and darkness. For most, it is a balance that is kept within one's internal being. However, inside a kingdom known as Halcyea there are certain individuals born with only half of their whole.

They are known either as lēoht or sceadu. A source of light, or concealing shadow.

He remembered this, from the night of his fifth birthday. They were all huddled together, wrapped up in blankets to keep them warm against the cell floor, being careful not to hit anyone's collar as the old ladies told the stories of their people, how they had once been freed and prosperous, one with their lēoht before everything became as it was, now.

"He came without warning to the Halcyeans, but many of us Shadows felt him. He reeked of a darkness most foul, mixed with blood and magic he ought not possess."

"It became clear, that he intended to storm the castle and kill the true Ruler, but he had not enough power, and never made it to the throne room where they awaited." said the other, pausing to stroke the small girl's head beside him.

The one behind him raised his hand, speaking with pride "It's because we drove him back, right?"

"Something like that..." continued the second "He is not a fool, in fact, had he not been stained so his potential would be great. He gathered his warriors and began an onslaught we did not anticipate."

"They were able to detect those composed of Light. If they could not capture their sceadu they would annihilate them altogether. In the end, the castle did burn, but the Ruler did not parish, and the precious lēoht we were meant to protect must face the ugliness of this world, alone."

Many of the children had grown quiet, and even he would shuffled closer to his friend, his nose now pressed to her shoulder and becoming entangled with their filthy blonde locks. This story was depressing, but it was no wonder. Everything about their lives was depressing, now.

It was his belief that the women realized how much of a toll such a dreary tale held, as they promptly tried to make light of it a moment later.

“But you must not lose your hearts my dears.” said the second, as the first easily continued.

“For hope still lingers, and it shows with your existence. Our people are still being born, which means the Light has not been lost entirely. While our collars bind us they cannot blind us. The King and those women of his may wish to have us think differently…”

“That is where their power over us truly comes from. Our succumbing to their whim; in time they will begin to retrieve you from this place. You must let yourselves grow strong. If the time comes that we may finally reach the Light again, we cannot be weak.”

“If we are weak, we will not be able to protect anyone.”

“But what can we do if we can’t become ‘strong’?” he remembered himself asking. Their answer was not as clear as he wished it could be, but he could recall this:

“Then both you and your lēoht will die.”

Those words were hardly a comfort. He knew that the Lights could survive without them, even if it was not the “Light” that would be left alive. It was almost gruesome in his imagination, when he tried to think what a life like that would entail. It seemed darker than this prison, and much colder than the desert night.

“When you are taken out of these cells,” continued the first, giving the second a rather harsh glare for being so blunt. The boy had not minded at the time. He would rather have that than sugared lies. “You will have those opportunities we spoke of. You shall find your way. Even His Majesty does not possess enough power to severe our connection to the Light.”

“Light can’t… Keep strong, if there’s no shadow behind it…” whispered the girl whom he was leaning upon. “Ri-Right?”

“These are things you will discover for yourselves, we cannot tell you everything now.” the women’s bones cracked as they began to rise from where they had been sitting, both their knees knocking together in attempts to keep up their weight. They were frail then, even if they could speak with as much authority as they did.

“You will come to understand. When your magic begins to blossom and these collars become too tight.” said the second, who was now helping lift some of the weaker children to their own feet, shooing them back to the beds further back in the cells, away from the heat they had here.

“But remember to not be afraid,” said the other, as she took both his, and the girl’s hands. “Light has a way of penetrating even the darkest of places. For now, sleep and dream… He cannot touch you there. Go, keep one another warm, safe.”

There were whispers all throughout that night, many questions blossoming in his mind which he whispered to her, much of it turning into a confidence to help lull her to sleep. Her fingers had brushed against his face, feeling the tiny scar against the corner of his eye.

“Take what they say to heart,” he murmured, arms wrapping around her as he leaned against another beside him. The beds had much space, but were stuffed with at least five people. It was fairly uncomfortable, even with the shared body heat. “They might be a little scary, but they know what they’re talking about, right…? They know what it’s really like…”

“I… Want to know too.”

“Then you will. We just gotta be strong. Like they said. The Light’ll find us in no time!”

The way she had looked at him then was still imprinted within his memory. He still did not know if she believed him, but there was something akin to faith woven in there, and he knew that she had been listening. That she could be strong.

“You really think so, Kamen…” slowly her voice became laced with sleep, and her body heavy against his chest. “What do you… Think your lēoht is like…?”

She had not stayed awake long enough to hear his answer, but as he too began to fall into slumber his lips pressed to her ear and whispered what he hoped would grow to be a beauty. He had always yearned for life outside this dungeon even before the old women told their stories of the times passed.

He would find a way. He would find a way to help his people find salvation – with maybe just a little luck and faith, they would not have to be afraid of the hand that could, at that time, crush their throats with a flick of his wrist.

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Philip Overby

I feel like this is an intriguing and promising story. One thing to be aware of is dialogue tags. Sometimes you use a comma and sometimes a period. It's a minor thing though. I wasn't quite sure who your main character was at first, but I assume them to be Kamen and Hath. Playing up their personalities and goals early on might help keep the reader hooked. I find the use of light and darkness to be interesting as well. If you want any specific feedback, let me know and I'll try to hone in on something more specific instead of general thoughts. Gave you a "like!"

I.

It had been almost fifteen years since he last thought about that particular story.

The only reason he thought of it now was from the scolding Hath decided to bring upon him. He missed the soft spoken, fearful child that often clung to him. Now, she could almost chew his ear off.

“I mean honestly… At this rate the King’s going to beat you senseless.”

“You worry too much,” he answered with a slight cough, wincing as she wrapped a bandage far too tight upon his forearm. He supposed he deserved that. “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to kill me… I think he’s finally warming up to me.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Don’t you think so?” with her finally letting go of his arm he gave a stretch, the muscles of his stomach almost relieved from finally getting to move. “Better to be on his good side…”

She bit her lip at that, unable to really deny it. The King was not one either of them trusted, but they knew by now what happened to those that did not follow his rule, or broke the ‘laws’ he set.

The elders had been right about a few things, Kamen noticed. Many of the children that were huddled with them back then either stood now as servants and workers, permitted to move about the castle and sometimes even step out into the desert plain – but most kept from doing that. His warriors did not like them, and His Majesty made it clear outside the castle walls, he could not (or Kamen and Hath thought would not was more suitable) protect them from what was out there.

“Or else you might have lost your arm entirely.” the continuous conversation caught him off guard for a moment, blinking his eyes at her before he gave a slight tilt of his head, contemplating. Deducing that she was more than likely right, he just shrugged his shoulders.

He had suffered worse, at his hand. Over the years Kamen’s attempts at either breaking out of the castle or fighting against the King in other forms never went well. A few of his comrades also found that out, their whims becoming meek and small. Kamen found however, the more he failed, the more he wanted to smack the smug look off the King’s face.

None really questioned why he did it outside of Hath, a few of the others often telling him they wished they could do the same. A few much older than him had, and the scars on them were much worse than what Hath had covered for him.

“It… Makes me scared for you.” confessed she as she tucked the small bit of medical supplies she had back under her pillow, raising from the bed and offering him a hand. As he grasped it, a sharp sound of surprise sparked form his lips and the next thing he knew, he was getting flipped onto the floor.

Crimson hues would squint at her, only to be met with a taunting smirk.

“Really you’d think after so long you’d know not to accept my hand.”

“Lady Deja rubbed off you in a bad way…” he murmured, rubbing his back as he made himself rise to his feet, slapping her hand away when she offered it again. That woman was not one he wanted to stifle with. Despite their growing conditions and how they were treated, she was always a very strong person. It surprised him not that Hath would try to take off her.

He had even seen some of the Galydian women watch her in awe when she trained in the yard. A ‘strong potential soldier’ they had called her.

How he missed being scolded by her.

With a shake of his head the two slipped to the hallway, bare feet hardly making a sound against the stone. They had long since learned how to move silently, even if they could not cling to the shadows for agility.

It was one of those pesky little rules.

“Ka-men~!” the sudden chime caused him to tense, anticipating the tackle that would stumble him forward, weight pressing against his back as arms wrapped around his shoulders, and legs around his torso. “You made it through another night I see.”

“Get off him, Rho.” Hath gave him little time to do so, before she gave a harsh tug to his ear, causing him to yelp and recoil. Kamen gave a slight chuckle, feeling almost bad for him having to endure that. Hath’s nails were sharp.

“You don’t have to be so mean, y’know.” he grumbled, reaching up to adjust his collar as he righted the rest of his stance. “I just wanted to make sure ma man didn’t get a lightning strike to the face or somethin’.”

“Nah, he did burn my arm though…” Kamen responded almost sheepishly, holding up his treated arm as proof as the trio continued down the hallway.

“What’d you do?”

“I don’t… Really remember,” he answered, tapping his chin with the tip of his finger (which consequently was also wrapped in gauze). “He was getting mad about something, next I know he’s trying to throw me and fire erupted through his hand.”

“And you said he’s warming up to you.” Hath interjected.

“Well he has called on him for a few nights in a row now.” a pause from Rho. “He doesn’t actually do anything… Nasty does he? Heard he sometimes makes pets out of us.”

“Doesn’t he just do that to the ladies?” Kamen asked, his stomach sinking some as they stepped into the kitchen. Their voices now dropped to whispers.

“You kidding? His Majesty may love women, but after seeing the way his warriors act, he wouldn’t have to try and bed them for their submission.”

“He is a sadist,” Hath interjected again. However, both Kamen and Rho noticed the slight relief on her features. Neither of them could blame her for that – if the King did have a preference for men, it meant she may not have to suffer such consequence.

“Besides I doubt it would spare you…” he said, giving the taller a small nudge before offering one of the kitchen maids a little smile, hands folding together in silent plea.

She gave him a slight scuff, but dipped her head to Kamen, turning her back to them as she opened one of the fridges, sorting through some of the rations.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kamen grumbled as the woman did such.

“You look enough like a lady that it wouldn’t matter what’s between your legs.” he chimed in sing song, almost immediately hiding himself behind Hath to spare him a good whack.

“I do not.”

“You kind of do.”

“Don’t you start.”

The smirk Hath gave just irritated him more, but any retaliation was rendered naught as the maid took one of his hands, upturning the palm and placing an apple into it, offering him a trembling smile. Her lips even cracked some.

Eat, he keeps you too thin.”

She spoke in tongue that made the three younger tense immediately. Gazes of identical eyes shifted to and fro, ensuring that none of the King’s women or traitorous Shadows lingered within the room. To speak in that language was outlawed. While it sounded soothing and pleasant, to their ears, they all knew the wrath it would impose from the King.

Kamen even thought it sounded more or less the same – but his linguistics hardly mattered so long as he comprehended it. Even if Hath often called forth his voice, he was not one to speak at length in any tongue.

Nevertheless, while the other two still seemed on the fence as to how to respond, Kamen offered her a smile of his own, one which just upturned the corners of his lips.

“Thank you, may the Goddesses be with you.” she seemed pleased with those words, but the others began dragging him back out of the kitchen before he could truly gauge its sincerity. Rho also took the apple, which Kamen did not object to.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” Rho mumbled between bites, offering some to Hath.

“She’s just kitchen staff, I doubt it matters.”

“You’re too naïve, Kam.” Hath muttered with a sigh, biting into the apple. “You put too much stock into the ‘kindness’ of the King. He won’t wave the penalty just because of her duty.”

Kamen shrugged. “I know, but it doesn’t hurt to be optimistic.”

“There’s a fine difference between optimistic, and delusional.”

The three became silent after that, Kamen not so quick to lash his tongue. He knew just how bad having a simple apple would seem. They stopped by the kitchen every morning, more so to ensure it was actually operating than to take anything. Today was the first day that Rho’s pleading actually worked.

The castle in which they lived was in the middle of a desert. From what Kamen knew there was little trade set up between them. In an early attempt of negotiating the freedom of the sceadu the Rulers gave what the King described as ‘scraps’, which they still received but Kamen knew none of them would see any of it. Not without earning it.

Fact of the matter was that rations were scarce, at least to them. No matter how optimistic he was outwardly, it would not change the fact that many had been punished for less.

Kamen did not know why he attempted to see any redemption here, but it did not stop him from giving such an attempt.

“Do you think we’re ever going to get shoes?” Hath asked after a moment – she stubbed her toe on one of the suits of armour lining that particular hallway. They were all willing to bet she would have a blood blister before the day was done.

“It’d just give us more ability to run away,” Rho responded with a shake of his head. “I mean the collars keep us from getting too far anyway but, we can try a little harder if the sand’s not burning our feet.”

“Lady Deja had worn shoes,” Kamen mused, taking the remaining apple from Rho and biting into the core. Not the most appetizing, or even safe but, he tasted worse. He wanted no remnants of it left.

“She was also one of the best warriors, until she turned traitorous to His Ma—” a sharp grunt left his lips before he could finish, Hath’s elbow giving a sharp jab to his ribs for making such commentary.

“So if we want shoes, we just have to become of greater use.” Kamen said, slowly uncoiling the fist he had not realized he created. “We know what he’s after, so as long as we don’t make mistakes, we’re fine.”

It was needless for him to note the expressions they shared.

Mistakes were almost inevitable, given how little they actually had to do to irritate the King, or any of his warriors. Particularly if they deemed one did not pick up the training exercises well enough in the allotted time. Kamen thought it to be nothing more than a double edged sword for the King:

It kept them healthy, and kept their magic from dissipating.

Yet it would lead the optimistic hearts to think that by growing strong they may one day overthrow this tyrant.

The latter, more often than not, could be sniffed out by the way the Shadows acted. For Shadows, they were not as discrete as they ought to be. Thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he fiddled with his collar as if it were a necktie.

“Speaking of becoming warriors!” Hath announced suddenly, pausing as they neared the stairwell. “Aren’t you two scheduled to go to the training grounds?”

“That’s where I was going, dunno about this knucklehead.” Rho announced proudly, turning his head to look toward Kamen, who had already bypassed the two and was stepping down the stairs. “He-Hey! You could at least say bye!”

Giving a small chuckle, he paused and gave Hath a wave, watching Rho jump onto the rail and slide down it. It was enough to make the two atop the stairs just blinking at him.

“Follow after him before he breaks his neck.” Hath muttered with a sigh, turning herself away while Kamen did just that, hopping down a few steps at a time so that he would be able to meet Rho, slipping through the rest of the castle to the doors to reach the training grounds, at which time they made a sprint, hoping to avoid burns upon the bottoms of their feet.

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II.

Feet were wiped against the stone as he gave a wave back to his friend, who was near leaping through the sand so that his feet would not feel the heat. It was how he imagined a deer galloping, but he doubted such a creature would ever be seen here.

The training grounds were a labyrinth of sorts, with three floors that would go further and further down into the earth. Kamen often wondered how it was built but, with the King’s magic he supposed a great deal was possible. At least none of them got buried alive (that he knew of).

He had no real complaints about it; given that once they actually reached the designated area it would not have such a rough surface. Last thing he needed was his feet getting wounded by anything other than his mentor’s blade.

If he was honest he would prefer the former.

“You’re late.”

The voice was meant to intimidate, the sharpness of it making his ear twitch. Yet to sneak up on one of his people was a feat not many accomplished. Although, not long ago when he had first met the woman, she had come close.

Now was not the time to try and be sentimental.

“The Shadows do not suit you, ma’am.” Kamen commented as his head turned toward her, half her face hidden from the cast off of the torch she stood by, idly wiping off her curved blade.

A low cackle vibrated from the woman’s throat, pushing off the wall and giving a few steps toward him, the cloth being tucked within the band of her low riding trousers. “They hardly suit you as you are now kiddo.” she replied, giving a rather smug smirk. Kamen did not even give a blink of his eyes.

Despite the superiority she possessed, Kamen knew that she was hardly one he would have to actively concern himself over. Her name was Ora, and she was second only to Deja – at least that was how Kamen always saw it. She had a wild temper and often warned him if he was to step out of line she could gut him like a fish while it flopped about.

As if either of them had actually seen a fish while it was still alive.

“Make sure that braid of yours is nice and tight. And you may want to get the rest out of your eye.” Ora instructed, blowing a bit of air to tousle the hairs which Kamen often left against his right eye. The former concern she pin pointed would only be met with a reach back of his head, holding up the end of his woven dirty yet golden hair..

Every day he would wear his hair like this; similar to how all sceadu wore their hair. A braid or two, each knot holding a representation none could put into words, but was still understood by those within their ‘race’. He had heard plenty of the Galydian given snide to it. Ora had never from what he could remember. Although she did often threaten to cut it off if he could not evade her sword.

“Let’s not waste any more time with pleasantries.” announced the elder before she would turn to fetch him a weapon from the keep to her left.

With no argument to be said he would catch the blade as it was tossed his way. Nothing more than a training blade, but enough that Kamen could learn the way in which he would have to use to wield it properly. He found he much rather use smaller daggers and needles, something Ora knew as well. Yet for the sake of training, he would take this near mediocre weapon to keep the others quiet.

“One of these days I am going to take you out and train you under the sun.” commented she as her body fluidly moved into a readied stance, to which Kamen mimicked to a T, eyes never leaving hers. It was not uncommon that despite her claim of ‘no pleasantries’ she would speak as the metal of their weapons clashed. A much more pleasant sound to fall upon his ears, and she may even distract herself enough.

Yet she never did. Ora had proven herself long before Kamen had ever dreamed of picking up one of these on his own accord. Her body had been trained to be a weapon, one which could move almost at the speed of the winds that plagued these deserts. Kamen had his own agility and flexibility which could rival it, but as his training was not as intense, he knew if Ora applied herself she may be able to hold true her threats.

As his arms twisted to block her downward strike, he would give her a little shake of his head, the red of his visible eye staring into her gold. “You would have to give me shoes, and a proper shirt.”

With a scuff, Ora pushed off the crossed blades and began an array of swipes from all direction, prompting the boy to block the best he could, returning with equally vigorous strikes as their conversing continued, their voices slowly growing heavy with panted breath.

“Then shape up and earn them.” she spat, the grin on her face making her words not appear as serious.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Then you’re going to have to try a little harder, kid!”

Kamen, like most of the sceadu of his proclaimed status had to work their way through the ranks that were imposed upon them. A way to keep them in line, and give them a purpose. That was the only possibility that they could piece together, and they did not want to try and think of what else might be going on in His Majesty’s mind.

Those that conformed to the ideals he gave, and proved to develop their fighting skills instead of their magic would be given more clothes to cover themselves, better rations in terms of both food and water, the chance to actually be clean, along with having sleeping quarters better than the metal-composed contraptions within the dungeon cells were upon the top of the list.

Most of them detested being so bare and exposed, and Kamen could not imagine anyone liking being put through living in their own filth. It made his nose want to weep.

The collar would always be an accessory, yet Kamen had seen some survive with it – Deja having been his prime example. She had thin scars stemming from around her throat, and the boy at the time, only noticed it when she would hold him in his arms and sing him to sleep.

He wondered if his throat would be marked like that by the time he reached her age; assuming Ora would not cut his head clean off his shoulders. It was a real possibility, when she could swing nearly any weapon as if it were a battle-axe.

A few shallow strikes had been given to each of them by the time the duo heard a rumble from the gong several floors above gave vibration, marking the end of the allotted training period. It ended as it always did, much to Kamen’s discontent.

The blade within his palm would find its way to the ground, giving a rather unpleasant clink, and the younger would be knocked the floor with the warrior upon his hips, her blade pressing inches from between his eyes. With both of them covered in sweat, the most disconcerting part of it would be when it dripped from her to he, particularly off the tip of her rather sharp nose.

Well, no, that was the only disconcerting part on the physical side of the spectrum. What was more upsetting was how easily she was able to best him. She still went ‘easy’ on him. At this rate, he would stay in the cheap and worn trousers for far longer than he was comfortable.

“You were going easy on me again.” he stated bluntly, eyes narrowing some as her dry chuckle broke the air.

“I can’t very well go all out when you got that wound on your arm. It might open up again.” to which was a surprise; the warriors to the King were hardly merciful regardless of the situation. He had seen them issue executions without paying mind to the cries and pleas of those around them.

To relinquish full force due to an injury he had near forgotten about was hardly understood, and it showed upon his face, with how the amusement stayed upon Ora’s features, even as she helped him back to his feet.

“I’ve had enough lashings to know wounds like that don’t start hurting until a few days after. You’re going to feel the burn sooner rather than later. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t toss you around because you can’t handle a few more abrasions.”

“… Was that wording truly necessary?” he asked, eyes blinking in slow aggravation, almost as if his body were to give a sigh to her terrible wordplay.

“Naturally,” she replied with a wave of her hand, bending herself over to pick up the sword mere feet away from the two. While she went to put it away, Kamen’s arms crossed against his chest and merely watched; he was in no hurry to be running across the sands again, especially with the heat that would have accumulated over the time that he was getting used to the cool interior flooring.

“Oh,” Ora hummed abruptly, her index finger rising before she turned to point it at him, offering a wink at the end of her utterance “The wound of yours aside, we won’t be meeting tomorrow. You can have a day off. Go venture around the castle, whatever you Shadows are able to do.”

“—Huh? Why not?” such was even less out of the ordinary for Ora. He could not remember the last time that he had a day where he did not have to clash with his ‘teacher’. Ever since he was told he ‘held promise’ the training was borderline ruthless, regardless of how this day was turning out to be.

“Because I don’t feel like babysitting.” she sarcastically remarked as she approached him again, giving too much of a sway of her hips. He thought she could be serious, given the pointed gaze she gave. Thoughts of that kind were quickly pushed aside as she nearly flicked his nose with her nail, her smug smirk slipping back into place.

“I know you don’t really get much a chance to keep track of dates so I’ll just tell you, you silly little thing. It’s your birthday tomorrow, isn’t it? The big ole two-one? Isn’t that supposed to be of some significance to you people?”

Disregarding the fact that he had forgotten, the latter was much more intriguing.

“Since when do you people care about what registers as important to us?” he would not comment that he did not truly know the importance himself, as it would either further her mocking of him, or allow her to see how little he knew of his own culture.

“Oh we’ve always cared. Whether we acknowledge it or not is an entirely different matter. I don’t know the full details myself but, that magic of yours is going to be important and that, my little Shadow is what His Majesty cares about. So I decided to Hell with a day’s training. You can do without it. Now get out of her before I change my mind.”

The ability to retort was rendered moot.

Kamen saw little point in trying to dig for any form of information when the contact was not entirely reliable. There were always motives to their actions; that had not changed over the course of the time he had lived.

With a sigh of resignation he would bow to her, his bangs and rather tousled braid falling across his face before he straightened up. “Thank you for the session ma’am.”

She nudged him sharply then, turning to walk toward the opposite exit which Kamen had used to enter. “Quit with the ‘ma’am’. You’re old enough to call me by my name. And pseudo humility does not suit you.”

Without further word Kamen turned on his own heel to retrace the steps he had previously taken, his feet already giving a slight whine. At the very least, their conversation may have given him enough time that the sun would be setting, and the sands would not burn to the extent he expected.

~*~

High above within one of the dark castle's towers stood the man claiming the title of 'King'. Donned in rich fabrics riddled in golden hem and blood-red accents he could assume the position of one of a regal sort. Nevertheless one would be slow to approach with the aura of wickedness that radiated from him like a storm cloud.

His expression almost always seemed to be that dreadful smirk. Even as he simply stood by his plated window, watching the blond figures emerge from within the so-called training grounds, scurrying like ants back to the haven of the castle walls. Slowly it would diminish, until one last came, walking in steps that lacked the frantic behaviour the King grew to expect.

Even from the distance, he could see the bandages marking his arm, and as such a small cackle would rumble from his lips, prompting the attention of the two petite elder women whom had been circling around the room atop their brooms.

"Has one of those insects fallen to their knees?" wheezed one, while the other levitated toward the window take a peek.

"Shall we go collect it my child?"

"On the contrary," he replied, near graciously stepping aside so that she may see what had caught his interest. "It seems there is one not so quick to succumb."

"Is it that one?" asked the woman still floating around, almost idly now. "Her child?"

"Indeed."

In unison there was a hum of acknowledgement from the women who, henceforth ought to be known as simply 'witches'.

"Keep an eye on it." he declared as he nearly whipped himself around, the tail end of his cloak almost smacking the one by his side in the face. "There is something else I need to handle." words dripped with near sadistic pleasure as his attention turned to the breathing lump by the tower's door.

His mass frame would lean over the being, his hand gripping their chin to force it upward.

Drained of their fire, the crimson eyes which met the golden amber struggled to remain opened. They were much too old to withstand the typical endeavours the younger generation had to endure. The King knew this.

He counted on this.

Sparks of lightning  teased the tips of his fingers, causing her to give a meek noise of pain as it marked up her chin.

“Who gave you permission…” he began, voice dropping to a near growl, causing those frightened eyes to grow ever the wider. “To give way my reserves old woman?”

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