June 6th 1408

  In the kingdom of eravell blessed by God with intricate labyrinthine cities, Eravell is a place of scholars, healers, and artists. It’s governed by a council rather than a monarchy, giving it a unique place among other kingdoms. The grand hall gleamed with silks and crystal, gilded chandeliers spilling golden light across the marble floors. Tapestries and banners, rich in scarlet and royal blue, draped the walls, bearing the family crest in proud display. Musicians played a jovial melody, filling the air with an energy that mingled with the laughter and hum of courtly chatter, all to celebrate the 25th birthday of the princess samantha.

  Across the room, Samantha caught sight of him. His jet-black hair was combed back from his face, revealing sharp cheekbones that lifted in a subtle smile as he spoke with members of the court. Their eyes met by chance, and she quickly gestured toward the banners, hoping to mask her interest. Yet her movement had drawn his attention, and he excused himself from his company, trailing behind her as she led them away from the hum of song and laughter.

  She moved with the poise of a young woman fully aware of her beauty and newly discovered influence, carrying herself with the grace befitting a crowned princess. He bowed slightly, acknowledging her title, his voice warm but formal.

  “Your Highness,” he greeted her with a polite smile.

  She closed the distance, her gloved fingers brushing softly against his chest. The heat of his presence lingered, rekindling the longing that had grown in his absence—a desire rooted deep, like a stone left untouched yet never forgotten. She could feel it within her, this forbidden attraction.

  He took a step back, his gaze steady but firm, caution and self-restraint veiled in his dark eyes. “You said you would stop.”

  Samantha pursed her lips, rolling her eyes playfully. “When have you ever known me to do as I say I would? Or did you truly believe I would take ‘no’ for an answer?” Her voice dipped lower, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do not forget, Michael, I am to be your queen—and a queen is to be obeyed at all times.”

  Her words held the coquettishness of a child grasping at a precious toy, yet her tone hinted at something deeper—a desire for power, for control.

  He met her playful tone with a scoff, shaking his head. “But you are not yet a queen, Samantha, and the king would have my head if he found us speaking like this in private.”

  Her expression softened, her eyes full of an intensity that belied her playful demeanor. “I mean you no harm, Michael,” she murmured. “It’s why I’ve suggested you marry me.”

  At this, he chuckled, his amusement tinged with pity. “Oh, Samantha,” he sighed. “You are still but a child in my eyes—a child I hold dearly, yes, but a child nonetheless. I have nothing to offer you at 40.” He shook his head, his tone almost gentle as he added, “In time, you will see that. Until then, I ask you to cease this…badgering.”

  And with that, he took his leave, his departure leaving her in the dim silence, a mixture of frustration and longing shadowing her face.

  December 5th 1440

  that memory was nearly 7 years old yet but despite that had come to play in her mind several times over the years. As she aged gracefully she wondered what might have happened if they never met again that night.

  And because of that she never found herself truly capable of moving on from what he had left her with, it was impossible to as a matter of fact. whether it be a mistake or an abomination in the eyes of others, to her it was the very thread that wove both their lives together. forever.

  she marched briskly through the halls, the sun reflecting on the clear pond surrounded by orchids and blue roses, on her way to his chambers. it was still early and he had missed the morning chamber meeting with the counsel. it was unlike him and she ought to check in on him.

  seeing as no maids were on the floor she questioned if he would now oppose to their private meeting. she smiled at that thought as she knocked before adjusting her crimson corset.

  “michael… it is samantha. there is no one around so feel free to let me in. I have something… of urgent care. It is regarding our-”

  She paused, listening to the strange silence that was unlike the man she knew of.

  seconds pressed in as she listened.

  “michael?” she knocked again, this time with slight annoyance until she reached for the handle and pulled the door only to find it locked.

  she scoffed, nearly tripping as she kicked the foot of the door with the pointed end on her shoes.

  In the great hall king rehoboam of eravell, called on his wise council to discuss the perilous matter of the witches. Their spells left death and chaos in its wake, corrupting whoever stepped foot on the land. And now that the seasons are changing the witches have no choice but to shift their intentions to larger areas.

  Soon, the soil would be eroded and the waters will be polluted. It was a matter of grave importance and after much discussion the king decided it was fair to secure fertile land by sieging the kingdom of solarkris before other nations got wind of this grave news.

  Unlike the other kingdoms, solarkris had its own sustainable water supply at its heart.

  But in the event that they fail to overcome the kingdom…

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  King rehoboam rose his hand, silencing his council. “the war is not over yet, we must fight evil with evil when the time comes. find the warlock and bring him back. Alive.”

  Cleo

  He shouldn’t have followed her. But with Cleo failing to return to the capital, it was too risky to leave her unwatched. Even with the little she knew, there was no telling what secrets a person might trade for silver. or even worse, to her brothers. he had enough to deal with at the moment.

  Zadarrah glanced over his shoulder, hidden behind the broad oak tree far from Cleo’s secluded cottage.

  The cottage sat in the middle of nowhere, but a determined rider could cover a vast distance on a steed.

  His gaze shifted to the windows, where shadows moved behind veils and vines that obscured his view. even at this distance he could hear her, He couldn’t fully grasp her foreign tongue, yet she seemed to be speaking to herself—or perhaps communicating with someone already inside.

  ohh

  Inside, Cleo had laid out several garments, each more exquisite than the last. One was adorned with white and gold thread, another made of scarlet silk, two in varying shades of green laced with beads, and a bright peach gown trimmed with feathers. She had tried each one, marveling at their beauty. Was she truly this out of touch with the season’s fashions? Had she grown so accustomed to the stained, oversized white gowns?

  Cleo stopped pacing, her decision finally made. What better way to project authority than with the purest of fabrics?

  She stepped out, her curly hair still warm from the hot comb, the soft breeze playing through her long waves. Each movement set off the gentle rattle of gold, silver, and crystal beads adorning her arms, neck, and feet. Her long white skirt concealed white leather sandals strapped right below her knees. The low-cropped blouse exposed a portion of her abdomen, shimmered from the jewel piercing her navel, which was wrapped in golden threads. Her ears sparkled with gems, from the lobes to the rims, and her thick soft and glossy lips bore a blend of brown and bright pink, perfectly matching the jewel piercing the side of her nose. The outer corners of her brown eyes were lined with black kohl, enhancing their shape and shade.

  At first glance, Zadarrah barely registered Cleo’s form. His eyes darted away, then snapped back as he took in the full extent of her appearance. The sight was striking. The vibrant fabrics and the elegant adornments accentuated her every move, commanding an undeniable presence. Each element of her attire seemed to amplify her aura, and Zadarrah’s gaze lingered, mesmerized by the transformation before him.

  quickly she notices him and waves, making her way over to him.

  “i was wondering how i was ever to find you…” she takes in his full form as well as the sunken soil where he rises from.

  “did you sleep here?” she asks her voice captivatingly whimsical as she perches her hand on her hip.

  he clicks his tongue in annoyance as he walks away.

  she rolls her eyes and follows behind him- where? she was determined to find out.

  they cut through the woods as it was quicker than swimming the heavy currents of the river ahead.

  “have you no horse? i do not think this journey was made for such an attire.”

  he silently marches ahead of her.

  she struggles to maintain her speed with all the shrugs and fallen logs she has to step over.

  “i would hate to…” she tugs her hair from a branch. “…persist with the notion that we find a horse.” she groans as she nearly slips on some mud.

  zadarrah stops abruptly and she nearly crashes into him. “shut your mouth or i will kill you.” he says without hesitation.

  she taps him by the shoulder, he turns to face her, “the latter you have tried and filed woefully, the former will only occur when you find us a horse or tell me where we are going.”

  She barely sees the smirk on his face as he scoffs and continues walking.

  This time she hurries on and matches his pace by his side.

  “So… what is it exactly we are looking for?”

  “There is no ‘we’” he grunts.

  “Then why am i here?”

  “Go back to lifting corpses then.” He retorts.

  cleo stops in her tracks and quints, frankly not paying his comment any mind. “Aren’t we supposed to be headed to the capital? This is the wrong direction.”

  The forest grows denser and thicker with every step. Leading her mind down curious paths.

  He tramples forth.

  Shes still as she watches his back move further away.

  She looks around her, the bark of each tree different from the next. Each branch twisting up into the air and back into the ground.

  She sighs and rubs her chilly hands together. By the time she looks forward, he is no longer within view.

  “Zadarrah…” she calls out as she walks forward. “Zadarrah!” She yells again and only silence meets her ears.

  Groaning she decided to head back to her cottage.

  There was no use imposing her presence on him. He clearly did not need it.

  She set back on the trail passing by several similar trees and footprints left behind.

  However she noticed another set of prints following behind hers and zadarrah.

  She sensed something strange behind her. She tilted her head and smiled. She would get to be by his side after all. “you heathens and your brought your friends.”

  Zadarrah

  It wasnt until he reached the market in the center of the moors.

  The smell of rotten soil, mixed with horse crap and sewage didnt stop the peddlers from marketing their stolen goods. Different shades of coats and hoods bustled stealthily past each stall.

  He looked back and she was no where to be found. He shrugged and moved along.

  Ducking his head as he entered a rather empty trade shop. The short man stood infront of a dark curtain, perking as he saw zadarrah. His crackled lips stretched a smile.

  “The gods have smiled on me today or the devil has come for my soul… which is it?” The short man asked.

  “Depends.”

  The short man smiled to hide his fear. “What can i get ya?”

  “The fourth ring.” Zadarrah said as he raked his fingers through his thick braids.

  The short man fidgeted before answering with a stammer. “Now you know i dont deal with black magic. That is why i been able ta escape the guards this long… they know people like ya gon try and get ya hands on it.”

  Zadarrah stared at him and his eyes flicked towards the shelves hidden behind the drapes. He slightly shook his head. “Ive spoken too much.”

  Sharply the short man shrieked as the knife stabbed the wood behind him, slicing his ear off in the process.

  He gasped and reached for his ear with both hands.

  “Please… PLEASE!!!” He held his bloody hand out while the other one plastered on his bleeding ear. “I sold it to a woman. Long before ya came here…”

  Zadarrah kept his silence.

  Eager to keep his other ear, he went on. “She was a big short, skin as dark as… this wood…” he slammed his hand repeatedly on the counter separating them. “her… arrgh… her accent was foreign. She wore a lot of them trinkets too.”

  Zadarrah frowned. “Did she say her name?”

  “Madana!” He gasped quickly as he huffed. “She said her name was.” He could remember her clearly. The petite woman had an enchanting smile and face her aura was astonishing, her grace was flawless. he hadnt realized he had given it to her until it was already too late. Till this day he wondered what complelled him to gift her such a dangerous treasure. “I swear it on the gods and my life… she was like nothing youve ever seen. If i were just an inch taller i would have bedded her.” He laughed dryly.