03/01/2021 Selkie

 We surged over the sand. I wrestled against the beast’s hold, but could not get free. The smell of the ocean was overwhelming, and panic shot through me as the water neared. The Selkie tossed her head, whipping my face with her mane. Her eye was the color of the deep sea, and it was wild with delight and bloodlust. 

This couldn’t be the end. I refused to let this be the end. In seconds, I would be dragged beneath the waves to be devoured by this monster. The woman had been so beautiful, her hair the perfect shade of gold, her skin creamy and lucious. I was taking my morning walk when she stumbled to me crying out in pain from her mangled and broken leg. She pleaded for help to the castle, the perfect damsel in distress. But the second I touched her, she had shifted into a Kelpie, one of the faerie horses of the sea. I realized my mistake too late, and before I knew it we were rushing towards the ocean.  

I was under her spell, unable to break away. But she hadn’t allowed my mind to slip underl. She left enough soundness of mind for me to see my death’s approach, as if she savored every second of my blinding terror.

“Please,” My scream was that of a terrified child, but I didn’t think to be embarrassed. “Spare me, I’ll give you anything you ask!” 

Anything? The words sounded in my mind in a phantom voice that was beautiful in pitch and hideous to its core. Even your throne, young princeling?

Don’t make deals with faeries. Everyone knew that. But the water was splashing my feet now. I screamed, fighting with all my strength against her hold. I didn’t have time to think, to consider anything but a horrible death. The dark abyss of the ocean couldn’t be my resting place. 

“Yes.”

A soft laugh went through my mind, and I knew I had played into the beast’s plans perfectly. But all I felt was relief as the Kelpie turned from the ocean and slowed to a walk. 

You have yourself a deal, Princeling. 

She pulled me deeper into her spell, and the world went dark. 

01/15/21 Milky

 I’ll always remember my first encounter with the Divine. 

We met in the Meadows, the highest point of our lands. A place where the forest was wild and the air felt alive. It was the favored place of the Divine, where the Seers traveled from across the land to communicate with their deities. 

The Festival of Harvests was always a big gathering. Farmers, miners, tinkers, and every other average soul came together, looking for a taste of the wildness and freedom the Seers had to offer. Everyone came to eat and dance, eager to throw off the back breaking work and heartache of everyday life. 

My chest thumped with the beat of the drums. The heat of the towering fire brushed my skin, battling with the crisp night air. People pressed together in a wild dance, their bodies bare and powerful

against the flickering orange of the flames. This dance had lasted hours already, and most bodies were slicked with sweat. 

The drums stopped. The dancers stilled. A woman began making her way through the crowd. She was beautiful, with dark hair hanging to her hips, thick and untamed. She wore a slip of a dress down to her ankles, made of a sheer fabric that left nothing of her soft curves to the imagination. A silver circlet lay over her brow, a deep amber jewel pressed to the center. The mark of a Seer, the zealots who spent their days in communion with the Divine. She was who we had been waiting for. 

The Seer stopped in front of the fire and settled on her knees. She raised her arms to the sky and slowly, sensually, began swaying back and forth. The drums began to beat again, matching her rhythm. A low hum rippled through the air and settled under my skin. Slowly, everyone joined in. An eerie song, an invitation to the Divine to bestow their presence on us. 

Suddenly, the woman’s body went rigid. A shudder shook through her, and she threw herself down, pressing her forehead to the earth. The humming grew to a fevered cry. A ripple went through the crowd, and the air turned thick. 

The song ended. The drums stopped. 

The seer rose slowly to her feet and turned to face the crowd. Her eyes had turned a milky shade of white, emitting a soft glow that pierced me with awe and terror. 

A Divine had accepted our invitation to play. 

12/31/2020 In My Defense, I Was Left Unsupervised

 “In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

I stride past him, looking down the hallway. It is an absolute mess. Paintings and tapestries are torn from the walls. The cell door hangs at a weird angle, the top hinges completely torn away. All four guards lay strewn in pools of their own blood, limbs and heads at unnatural angles. No, he was not left unsupervised. 

Thorne drapes himself against the study’s doorway. His posture is infuriating, as if he didn’t just go into a bloody rampage across my tower. 

“I don’t know who you think you are!” I stride towards him and jab a finger into his chest. His hand darts up and snatches my wrist, yanking my hand back so fast I gasp. Violet eyes meet mine, paralyzing me. I gape as he leans forward, his face just inches from mine. There’s something about him I didn’t notice when we arrested him. Something that isn’t human.  

“Clearly you don’t,” His voice is a soft purr that sends shivers down my spine. “Or else you wouldn’t have tried to confine me to that wretched little cell. You would have stationed more than poorly trained palace guards to keep me. Your master must have no more use for you if he sent you after someone like me.” 

Suddenly, I’m being dragged inside the study. He grasps my hair in an iron grip, pulling me across the room. My heart pounds violently in my chest and I drag my nails down his arm, but he doesn’t even react. I almost scream for the guards, but they’re all dead. It’s just me. Alone with this demon.

The breath rushes from my lungs when he throws me against the desk, papers scattering to the floor as I catch myself barely against the edge. His strength is terrifying, unnatural. I don’t understand why I would be tasked with capturing this monster, and with only a few soldiers. It’s out of my skill set. I must have done something to disappoint the King. Something bad enough that he would send me to my death.

Thorne seats himself casually on the other side of the desk. He looks elegant and lethal, draped in all black, eyes deadly and hypnotizing. Not a single hair is out of place. You wouldn’t ever think he just brutally murdered four people. 

He leans back, watching me. “You will write a letter to your King. Make him think I’m dead and dealt with.”

I lower myself into the desk’s chair, trying to control my shaking. “I can’t do that. It would be treason to lie to the King. He always learns the truth. And then he’ll come after me.”

Thorne smirks. “Again with underestimating me. Let your guards be a testament to what I can and will do to you.” 

My breath hitches in my chest, imagining the awful things he’s capable of. But it can’t be worse than the King. If I commit treason, he will drag me home. He’ll torture my family publicly before executing me. If I’m killed performing one of his duties, my family will be rewarded the rest of the wages I would have earned. The decision is simple. 

I shake my head, and Thorne’s eyes widen in disbelief. “If you knew him, you would just kill me and be done with it.” 

Thorne watches me, his eyes calculating. His voice is soft when he says, “It is a shame to waste something so pretty.”

I fly back, head cracking hard against the ground as he flies over the desk. My vision darkens as he crouches over me. His hands feel gentle, cradling my head in his palms like a lover. The last thing I see are his eyes, violent and beautiful. Fiery with an anger that calls to me. Full of a pain that reaches into my soul.

12/22/2020 Shiver

 My breath curls in the air in smoky tendrils. I’ve never noticed before, how beautiful it is. The essence of life, dancing in the wind. The air is crisp, and my body shakes with cold and shock. The ice reaches down to my bones, causing a deep shiver that trembles to my core. My hands shake, clutching at the bloody mess of my chest. I know it’s pointless at this point, but I’m not ready to walk through the Veil. I promised Andor I would fight to my dying breath. 

It feels so long ago, that we huddled by the fire, laughing and trading childhood stories. So long ago, that we slipped away from our Master, journeying deep into the forest. The imprint of his lips is still fresh on my lips. But not as fresh as his blood, soaked into my dress, mixing with my own. His eyes flash in my mind, the way they looked, drained of their fire. 

Dead. He is dead. 

A tendril of mist catches my eye, and I slowly force my head up, staring into the dark. I see only shadows. But a presence presses in on me. I know I’m not alone. I watch the trees carefully, waiting. The smell of my blood is bound to attract monsters, especially in the middle of a harsh winter. 

A twig snaps, and two glowing eyes appear beside a tree, meeting mine. A wolf. Black as the night, magnificent against the frozen forest. He is starved, his hip bones too sharp, his ribs visible through his fur. But still, he is lithe and powerful. His gaze is patient, almost kind. He knows death is near, and he’s waiting patiently. 

My eyes close slowly. The blood flow has slowed, and the strength leeches from my body on the breeze. Suddenly, the Veil is before me. A hand reaches through, strong and familiar. Andor. 

I let my hand fall from my chest. The last of my life blood pulses out, dripping onto the snow. But the feeling no longer disturbs me. My vision darkens, and I raise my eyes to meet the wolf’s gaze one more time. His golden eyes, warm and comforting, are the last I see of the world. My soul lifts from my body, and the pain disappears.

Peace. 

12/10/2020 Utholde

            Inhale.

Exhale.

I force myself to breathe, filling my lungs fully. Then release my breath slowly, forcing calm into my body. I close my eyes, inhaling the crisp smell of pine. 

I’m expected back soon. But I can’t appear in front of the courts in this state of mind. My Father expects me to welcome the North Men into our home with open arms. He expects me to forget the fear and heartache, the memory of their soldiers storming through our gates, drenched in the blood of my people. I told him it was a trap, that we were a mouse caught by a cat, their plaything. But he is blinded by his desperation. He forced me to put on this ridiculous dress, green to match my eyes and contrasting starkly against my ivory skin. He dressed me up like a prized horse, hoping to give me a Northern husband instead of a brutal death. 

Over my dead body. I cross my arms over my chest and clench my hands into fists, shivering against the cold. I force another calming breath into my lungs. I need to stay calm. I need to keep the beast at bay. I am our final hope, our only remaining weapon against the North Men. I’ll be no good to anyone if I lose my cool now, with so many enemy soldiers around. 

The North Men are heartless and brutal. It didn’t take them long to break through our defenses, and Father caved to their will quickly. He is scared of pain. Scared of death. A coward and traitor to his people. He can greet those monsters on his own, if they’re insulted at the absence of the Princess, so be it. 

A loud snort makes me jump, but it’s only Pegasus, waiting impatiently a few paces away. I close my eyes again, trying to relax again. They spring open again when the sound footsteps reach me. 

A young man steps through the trees, holding the reins to a giant black stallion in a fist. He’s draped in furs, his face travel worn and scarred from battle. He is handsome and roguish, his shoulders broad, his expression haughty. His dark hair and wild appearance marks him as a North Man. He stops a few paces from me and regards me coolly. 

“Princess Eira?” He scans me brazenly, pausing on the royal amulet at my neck. His eyes are icy, nearly white. 

“Northern scum.” My voice is level, despite the shiver of fear running down my spine at his piercing gaze. I square my shoulders and do my best to stare him down.  

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, and a surprised smile quirks his lips. My jaw clenches and I can’t help glaring. 

“Your presence is required in the Hall.” His tone almost makes me spit. How dare this foreign shit invade my home and butcher my people, and then command me like my title means nothing. Rage courses through me, and I have to close my eyes again, forcing another slow breath. 

I open my eyes when the snow crunches. The man stands in front of me, looking amused. He is close enough that I know in a matter of moments I’ll be thrown over his shoulder and taken back by force. That would give them all a good laugh, the Princess dumped on the floor in a heap in front of the entire surviving court. 

I roll my eyes and stride towards Pegasus, fully aware of the man keeping pace behind me. He mounts his horse quickly as I take my time, arranging my green gown to cover my legs. As I sit up I scan the area carefully. Beyond the tree line is an open field. Giant trees tower on the other side, so dense I can’t see past the first line of pines. The Forest of Dod, the place of nightmares. No one knows what horrors it holds, but everyone who has ever entered has never returned. 

My mother’s voice enters my mind. “In your time of greatest need, reach the Shrine of Ulver, deep in the Forest of Dod. There you will find your destiny.” She had whispered this to me, tucking me into bed and running a hand over my hair. That was the last time anyone ever saw her. The memory was faded, blurred among the other confusing memories of my childhood. 

I stare at the Forest. Only in my time of greatest need would I even dare. But it’s either this or handing myself over to the Northern Men, where I will be raped and killed, or forced into a marriage with one of their brutish men. Both are the same thing in the end. Desperation washes over me. Is it better to die in the Forest? 

One single thought pierces through my mind, as if planted there. 

Utholde.

Endure. Anger courses through my veins like fire, burning my to my core. This is my home, and I will not be led as a lamb to slaughter. 

Utholde. 

Endure. I turn and look at the North Man, who is watching me carefully. His hand lays casually on the handle of his axe. My eyes roam past him, and I clutch at my chest gasping, pointing a shaky hand behind him. 

The second he turns his attention away, I dig my heels into Pegasus. He launches  forward, thundering out of the grove and into the field, heading straight for the Forest. Something heavy whooshes, and warmth sears down the side of my face. The North Man had thrown his axe, just missing a killing blow. I don’t have time to assess the damage. I hunch low on Pegasus’ back and yell, pushing my heels hard into his ribs. He flies in a reckless gallop, and I pray we won’t fall. The North Man shouts behind me as I approach the treeline, either out of anger or a warning, I don’t know. 

Right as we reach the treeline Pegasus slams to a stop, his butt nearly hitting the ground as he slides across the icy grass. I launch over his head, pitching head first into the trees. Darkness envelops me as I slam into dirt, tearing through pine needles. I land on my back and immediately roll over to see if I was followed. The North Man stops just outside the treeline, a look of total disbelief on his face. Pegasus is already almost to the other side of the field, making his way back to the castle, his eyes flashing white with terror. 

I make eye contact with the North Man and smile. Only a fool would follow me in here. I climb to my feet, dusting off my dress. The North Man watches me, his eyes calculating.

“You’re going to die in there, Princess!” 

My smile turns cold. “Better a death by wolves than by the hand of a wretched North Man.” I spit and throw my hand in the air, giving him a hostile gesture. 

The North Man throws his head back and laughs. He unclasps the brooch holding his fur cloak in place and pulls something from his belt, wrapping it up. The cloak lands at my feet in a ball. 

I stare at him in surprise. He gives me a smile, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You’ll have more to worry about than wolves, Princess.” His tone is humorous. He salutes me, then turns his mount and begins making his way back across the field. 

I lift the cloak from the forest floor, dusting the pine needles off. Whatever he put in it falls to the ground as I sweep the cloak over my shoulders, fastening it in place. A dagger, curved and brutal. Made of the black metal of the North. It’s as long as my forearm. I know he must have given these to me as a mockery, but I can’t help feeling a little grateful. 

I grip the dagger in one hand and begin walking, getting swallowed by the darkness.

11/21/2020 Raven Far From Home

 A flock of birds circled above me, waiting for the carnage to end so they could get their meal. The air was dense, the smell of rain mixing with the smell of blood. It felt like a blanket, wrapping around me and coaxing my body to relax.

A bird broke away from the flock and dove towards me. I realized as she drew closer that she was a raven, black feathers iridescent in the fading light. The light shifted around her, as if she didn’t belong to this world. 

Calm entered my body as I raised a hand to the sky. The Raven landed, talons pressing into my wrist. She turned a beady eye towards me, waiting. 

My fist pressed into my wound, as if that could stop the bleeding. I was light headed from blood loss. Past the point of no return. We shouldn’t have ever been here in the first place, following our foolish king into this war.

The sound of metal clashing felt distant, although it surrounded me. Faintly, I could hear the screams of my brothers falling around me. 

“Tell him...to find me in the After.” I whispered softly. 

The raven scanned my face, and I swear I saw a flicker of sadness in her eye. She opened her wings and lifted from my hand, soaring North. 

Towards home. 

I closed my eyes, trying to draw out my final moments. I inhaled deeply, letting the feel of an incoming storm fill my lungs. 

The first raindrop touched my face as I let my final breath out, feeling the pull of my soul leaving my body.

11/30/2020 "I don't want to be ladylike. I want to lure men to their deaths."

 Bernulf guided his stallion down the path. His journey was almost over, he would reach the castle within the hour. The next day he would be married, and officially become the Crown Prince to the kingdom. He had worked his whole life, weaseling his way up the ranks of nobility until he was in the king’s pocket. He then slowly made his way to the princess’s side, charming her until she practically begged her father to allow their union. Everything he had spent his life working for was finally in his lap. 

An ear shattering scream pierced through the quiet of the forest. His stallion jumped, nearly knocking him off. Bernulf dismounted and drew his sword, scanning the forest. A young woman burst through the trees and dove into his arms, weeping. He grabbed her roughly by the arms and held her away. 

“Get a hold of yourself!” He snapped. “What is going on?!” 

The damsel trembled in his arms. Her face was smeared with mud, her dress torn and tattered, showing mud smeared legs and bare feet. Underneath the grime, she was a beauty. Her eyes large and moss green, her body thin and soft in all the right places. 

She grasped his arms desperately, her eyes filling with tears. “There’s a man trying to hurt me, he’s following me. Please, please help me!”

Bernulf looked at the forest behind her. There was nothing there. But her disheveled appearance and frantic countenance were hard to ignore. Plus the possibility of adding the rescue of a damsel in distress to his list of appealing traits was attractive. Who knew, maybe she would be grateful enough to offer him a reward.  His eyes moved to the shadow of her breasts at that thought. 

He swept his cloak from his shoulders grandly and wrapped it around the girl, brushing his fingers against her chest. He guided her to a fallen tree to the side of the path and helped her sit. His eyes roved over her, something nagging at the back of his mind. There was something familiar about this girl. 

“There is no need to cry, milady.” Bernulf clasped her hand gently in his and planted a kiss in her palm. “I will rescue you from this evil.” 

Holding his sword out in front of him, Bernulf walked into the trees, every sense tuned in to the smallest movement or sound. The forest was dead quiet at his approach, no sign of danger. He scanned the forest floor, following the trodden foliage from the girl’s wild approach. 

“You’re gonna get it when I find you, girl!” A man’s voice reached him finally, along with the sound of someone crashing through the trees. The voice yelled, cursing roughly. He could hear the girl whimpering weakly behind him. 

Bernulf raised the tip of his sword into the air and took a step towards the yells. Suddenly, a cord wrapped around his ankles and he was yanked off his feet, landing hard on his stomach. Somebody dove onto his back and wrenched his arms back, binding them deftly. The stranger sat on his back, sinking his weight into him heavily. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bernulf roared, straining against his ties. 

Twigs snapped as someone approached. A pair of bare feet stood in front of his face, and his heart sank. 

A trick. 

“You can get off of him now, Weasel.”  The  damsel said behind him. The trembling in her voice was gone, replaced by something cold and calculating. 

The weight shifted, and Bernulf was dragged into an upright position. His captor stood behind him, pressing a knee between his shoulders and holding the collar of his shirt in an iron grip. The girl stood before him, her entire countenance changed. Her lips curved upward and her hip cocked, causing something in his memory to stir. 

The girl stepped forward, gripping his chin in her fingers hard enough to bruise. Her eyes flashed angrily. “Don’t you recognize me, Prince?”

She leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. The feel of her mouth, the sweet smell of her, triggered a vague memory. A drunk night in the tavern with his mates. A young girl drinking from his poisoned glass. That same girl, crying as he coaxed her into his bed. The dead look in her eyes when he stole her virtue from her. 

Bernulf blinked, fear setting into his gut. The girl’s smile stretched into a grin and her eyes hardened as realization dawned on him. 

“Th...the tavern,” Bernulf stammered, “I was drunk, I...I would never!” 

The girl’s hand connected with the side of his face hard, nearly knocking him over. He stopped talking as a knife pressed against his neck. The large figure standing behind him cackled gleefully. 

“You hurt me,” the girl hissed, “and now you want to hurt our Princess.” The knife’s point broke skin, and warm blood seeped into Bernulf’s shirt. Her grin grew sinister as the knife slowly pushed deeper. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, her lips brushing against his skin. 

“Men like you deserve to die.”

11/29/2020 It Unnerves People. I Like That.

 Ciro’s hooves hit the cobbled walkways with sharp clicks.. The streets are completely deserted, curtains pulled tightly shut. Every once in a while, I see the shifting of a fabric as a villager peeks out at me. Because of this, I chose my wardrobe carefully. I wear a red dress, the deep color of blood. Black lace lines the edges. The dress offers full coverage of my skin, but is shaped in a way that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It causes my ivory skin to stand out harshly. My dark brunette hair is looped intricately on top of my head. I look tempting. Tempting and deadly. 

We pass the last house and stop at the edge of the town square. In the center sits a dark stone altar. A young girl sits in the center, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s young, perhaps fifteen years old. Her legs are dirty under her simple white shift, the black swirls of paint signifying her status as a blood slave stand out starkly against her skin. She begins to shake when she sees me, her eyes filling with tears. 

I smile, my blood singing at the sight of such a pretty little thing. I am surprised at her bravery, despite the tears. Most sacrifices have to be tied down, but she sits there of her own will. A rare offering. 

Ciro blows out a breath and walks towards her, stopping at the base of the altar so I can dismount. He is familiar with our monthly ritual, and needs no guidance.  

“Shhh little one. There is nothing to fear.” I stop in front of the girl, examining her carefully. She gives off an aura of innocence, but there is steel behind her eyes. I am intrigued and a little excited. 

I place one arm under her knees and the other under her back, lifting her up easily and placing her behind the saddle. I settle in front of her and nudge Ciro forward, back the way we came.

Wailing starts when we exit the village. Likely the cries of her family. The sound is soothing to me. 

“You are a brave one. A worthy offering.” I reach back and pat the cold trembling hand of the girl reassuringly. She jerks her hand away from my skin and inhales sharply, repulsed by the unnatural feel of my skin. A small smile flits across my lips, pleased. 

Picture by: Danila-Neroznak (deviantart)

11/24/2020 Cloaked Figure On Stairs

 Elandria’s footsteps fell quietly on the stairs. She paused to scan the forest below, searching for any sign of the creature. She had lost him in the forest, but as guardian of this tower, he would be here soon. He wouldn’t be a problem, but she preferred not to harm him. 

She turned back to the stairs and jumped out of her skin. There sat the creature, his tail swishing in the air. He sat poised, watching her with hungry eyes, daring her to make a move. 

Elandria clutched the tungsten dagger in her hand, not moving a muscle.

“You are brave,” the creature hissed, his voice deep and gravely, “but you are foolish. And that will be your downfall.” He stood up on his hind legs and took a step closer, tucking his stone colored wings neatly against his back. 

Elandria took a slow step back, brandishing her weapon. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved slightly in a smile. “You have mistaken me for one of your usual victims,” she said, “I am Elandria of the Golden Forest, and I command you to step aside.” 

The creature hissed as the knife began to glow. The air crackled with magick.

He let out a deep rumbling growl, then launched himself at her, stone teeth bared. A burst of light shot from the knife, straight into the creature’s chest. The force of it launched him back. He slammed against the wall, shuddering, and then shattered. Grey stone shattered, flying in all directions. 

Elandria held up a hand, shielding her face from the spray of rock. Her smile widened as she ran up the rest of the steps, taking two at a time. 

At the top of the tower was a heavy cage. Inside was an altar, carved with the runes of the Gods. A warrior lay on his back, fast asleep. He wore heavy leather armor and a sword on his chest, clasped between two scarred hands. Beneath his dark beard, his skin was turning ashen from all the years of endless sleep. 

They thought they could keep him from her. They thought they could lock him away in the darkest corner of the kingdom, and she would be helpless to find him. 

Elandria set the lantern on the ground and slid the door open, stepping inside. Gently, she laid her hands over his.  

“Duhrak of the Cold Mountains, I release you from your sleep.” She leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Power seeped from her fingers into his rough hands. 

She opened her eyes, meeting the dark eyes of her Beloved. 

Prompt

11/20/2020 "So that's what you are," he whispered in awe.

 “So that’s what you are,” he whispered in awe. 

Slowly, I rose to my feet, my chains losing their weight. Power began seeping through me, filling my veins with light. My skin illuminated a soft gold, and I smiled at the fear forming in my tormentor’s eyes. 

“Three months you have held me here,” My voice filled the cave with a low, unearthly tone.

The torturer stumbled back as light streamed towards him, forcing its way down his throat. He gripped his neck, gouging at the skin with blood stained fingernails. 

My blood. 

The chains on my wrists began to glow red as I took a step forward, raising a hand to point at him. My voice grew stronger, fueled by the rage my soul had held during these months of torture, “And in turn, three centuries you will be bound, eternally feeling the pain you have caused to others.”

He collapsed, screaming and writhing, as the light began to burn through his veins. 

My shackles broke apart, clattering to the stone floor. In seconds I was upon him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the stone walls. He gripped my wrist weakly.

“Not so big and tough anymore, are we?” I whispered. 

Shackles began forming around his wrists, pinning him against the wall. They were made of light, glimmering gold. There would be no releasing this monster until his punishment was paid. 

I turned to the opening and hesitated. How long since I had seen the light of day? 

I felt a hand, warm and gentle, placed against the side of my neck. A woman’s voice whispered in my ear. A stranger, yet familiar somewhere deep in my bones. 

“Step out into the light, Daughter.” I inhaled deeply, feeling the power course through me. “Come home to me.”

I stepped through the doorway, shielding my eyes and squinting when the sun hit my face. A warm ocean breeze floated along my skin, caressing the naked parts of me that had been so brutally damaged these months. 

I looked over my shoulder once, at the figure writhing against the cave wall, crying like a baby. Wounds were appearing across his flesh, matching every wound he had inflicted on my body. 

He made eye contact with me, his eyes full of rage and pain. 

I smiled at him gently. “If you see your prince, tell him I’m coming for him.”