An ethereal trail of magenta streamed from his palm, rising like smoke from the burning end of a cigar. A pair of ruby eyes tensed in concentration. The wisps of magic conjured from his hand flickered, darkening in shade and swirling clockwise to form a sphere. Pure darkness that chased away the warmth emanating from a hearth at his side. His clawed fingers twitched, bending the darkness that poured from his heart and circulated through his veins. The imperfect orb peeled apart and dissipated.
He summoned more unfamiliar magic to continue this practice of control. Focused as he was, the sound of someone clearing their throat sundered the partially formed orb, shattering like glass. His head jerked to the side and he glared at the castle’s butler.
“Enjoying yourself, master? Oh dear, your tea has gone cold,” the butler remarked, striding closer.
“It’s better than dreaming of brighter days,” he lamented, “or losing my mind entirely.” He sank into the tall chair, icy stare fixated on the dwindling flames. “Three years are drawing to a close. Would it not be better to embrace the darkness?”
Sardonically, the butler retorted, “Has it been that long already?”
He set his elbow on the chair’s arm. “I’ve been counting the days.”
“You mean to say you have given up hope.”
“I gave up hope when I lost my mother,” he said, patience at an end and temper burning. “I gave up hope when I could no longer enjoy the company of friends and strangers alike! I lost hope when I forgot how the touch of a woman felt.”
The butler looped his finger through the ceramic cup’s handle and sipped the cold tea. “I for one am not content to remain as this creature forever. If you’ve no hope for yourself, harbor hope for the rest of us.”
“George, I’m trying,” he said, defeated. He flicked his fingers out, palm to the ceiling. “I really am. The guilt weighs on me every day.” His hand dropped into his lap.
“You let it crush you.”
“Not. Helping,” he said through grit teeth.
“You still do good for your kingdom, master,” the butler said, oddly earnest. “That tells me your heart hasn’t entirely withered.”
A snort vibrated out through his snout. “If not for giving back to the villages, they would have forgotten about their king entirely.”
Silence blanketed the room. The crackling fire diminished, and George sipped on tea until the cup was empty. “Might I suggest a bit of rest? You can continue brooding tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he grunted, and stood. From the back of the chair he collected his azure cloak. In a sweeping motion, he hung it around his shoulders before marching toward the solar’s exist. He opened the door to leave, but on the other side he found the head guard approached. A silhouette of shadow in the already dark corridor, perceptible only by the sound of his footsteps. The scant light spilling out from the solar was enough to make the guard’s features stand out plainly to the castle’s master.
“Nik- Master,” he excitedly called, raising his spear to garner attention from his master.
The lumbering king paused, tilting his head to look down at the creature calling for his attention. “What is it, Phillip?”
“We have a prisoner. She was trespassing in the courtyard.”
“Prisoner?” He parroted the word as if it were foreign. Gloom faded from his ruby gaze and he looked curiously toward the direction Phillip had walked from. “I’ll interrogate her.”
From inside the solar, preparing to extinguish the hearth’s fading embers, George called, “Would you like company, master?”
The king turned his head toward his shoulder. “By that you mean do I need someone to help me act with mercy?”
“You know me all to well,” George responded with a smirk in his voice.
“No, I can handle this,” he promised. Questions blossoming uncontrollably in his mind, he stepped passed Phillip and trekked toward the dungeon.
Kilena Shrelack 