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Chapter 1 The Prologue: Flesh Thief

Sera was running away from the authorities. A usual occurrence, seeing as she is a thief. But this tale is not about that, I assure you. It’s about how unpredictable human beings can be. How one moment they could be allies and then enemies at the next.

Ah, it seems that I have gotten ahead of myself. Sera is who we are discussing. An orphan who steals for fun. Seems interesting enough. After all, my dear readers, time is all we have.

Sera is currently camping out in the West, enemy territory. She’s also building a bomb. Why? Well you’ll find out soon enough. Sera hums and taps her foot as she works. A twig snaps and she grabs her pistol, aiming and ready to shoot. She sighs when she sees her bot companion rolling towards her.

“Gods Shark, you can’t sneak up on me like that.” Shark whirs and beeps then shuts down. “Damn, no no no…” Sera panics and desperately pushes Shark’s on button. “You can’t shut down. Not today.”

Shark can’t break because Sera needs them to man the fort while she uses the bomb. You see, Sera was sent by the Duke of Theria, a kingdom in the East, to kill the King of Astrias. There was a festival happening in a couple of hours, the Princes’ Courtium. It’s the only day of the entire moon cycle when the guard’s are not on duty and the perfect time to commit a crime.

The princes’ of Astrias are the kingdom’s golden boys. There are 4 princes in total and 3 of them will pick a custodire. They are to go on quests with the prince and protect them. After the custodire is picked, mysteriously they are never seen again. Children would whisper about the princes being cannibals and rumors, as they do, spread like wildfire.

Sera wants to throw up in her mouth at the mere thought of serving a prince. She thinks they’re stuck up snobs who’ve never known struggle. All she needs to do is plant the bomb while everyone is distracted by the princes and the King. Get in, get out.
She stuffs her satchel and mounts her horse, Stormfire. “Va, va!” She nudges her ankles into his side and grips the reins as he bolts. Sera catches glimpses of herself in the lake water. Her dark skin and golden brown eyes. Her milky white horns are a stark contrast to her very dark hair. This was it, the most important day of our young thief’s life, the day a child chose her.

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You see, dear reader, the Princes like games. People say they lure you in with their mind games and eat you when you’ve fallen for them. Sera seriously doubts that and chooses to ignore the warnings.
The princes are very different from each other. Sailias, the eldest, is tall and intimidating. His hair is as dark as the night and his eyes are inhumanly beautiful, like endless pools of ink. Next is Taylin. He’s going to run the king’s guard. His golden hair is a stark contrast to his older brother’s. His eyes are as blue as the summer sky. The third brother, Maxil, will be in charge of the border and city states. And last but not least, Damion is the youngest brother. He’s only 10 years old and very sickly. He doesn’t go out much, but he has the most beautiful auburn hair and the greenest eyes on the continent of Kastas. Sera has always had pity for the youngest prince. No child should have to ever deal with those blasted rumors. Currently, those said princes are lounging in the empty court. “Sal.” Maxil is slouched in a plush chair. “Sal.” He tries again, sitting up. “Sa-” “I swear to the gods, I will rip your tongue out.” Sailias snaps, dark eyes narrowing. Maxil huffs and sinks back into the chair. Taylin runs a hand through his golden hair. “Sal, we need to feed. We cannot keep going like this. We need-” “To learn how to control ourselves. What happens if we are on an assignment and need to feed? Hmm? It’s not like father cares and we can’t just ask locals for human flesh.” Taylin sighs. “Sal, I know how you’re feeling, but starving yourself and pushing us away isn’t the answer. And Damion needs to feed. He’s too sick to afford to wait any longer.” Sailias’s gaze drifts to his baby brother’s sleeping form. He lets his hand caress his cheek. His expression softens slightly. “ “Damn this godsforsaken curse.” He mumbles. Sailias Edenclove of Astrias knew he needed something to break his curse. He didn't know, however, that it was someone he needed. And that someone was planning to kill his father right now.

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As quiet as a mouse. Dear reader, in case you didn’t know, this phrase is a simile. A simile that doesn’t normally describe Seraphim Fogheart. It’s mostly why she’s missing 2 fingers. But today, she would have to live up to that simile.

She’s hunched over in the gardens, cloak concealing her identity. She quickly plants the bomb, but before she can light it, she hears a soft gasp. A little girl, no older than 7 is standing behind her ,eyes wide. Sera studies her features and takes mental notes about her Western features. “C’esre yera” Sera slides a tolem into her tiny palm and brings a finger to her lips. “Shhh, C’esre yera. Don’t tell.” She nods and runs off.

An old maid comes up behind Sera and gasps. “By Izicar himself, what are you doing dressed like that?!” Sera blinks a few times. She doesn’t see anything wrong with her cloak, boots, and britches, but apparently the maid does. “You look like a hunchback! And those pants make you look like a man!” Sera couldn’t care less about what she looked like, but for the sake of the assignment she would have to blend in. “Come on, I have just the thing for you.”

The maid drags Sera into the palace and ushers her into a room. Sera is scrubbed in places she didn’t even know she had. They did something to her hair and kept her horns exposed. The maids paint her lips red and her cheeks pink. They throw a red dress on her and it’s way too revealing but the old maid waves it off. She tightened the corset as tight as possible and draped gold chains around her hips where the silt starts. She barely recognizes herself when she looks in the mirror.

“You’re a pretty one, you know. Sailias likes little things like you.” Sera raises a brow. “Sailias? Like the prince?”

The maid nods. “I’ve known him since his birth. Knew his mother too. Rest in peace.” Sera makes a mental note to remember this maid. “Child? Do you have a name?”

Sera realizes she can’t say: Oh yeah, my name’s Seraphim, the wanted thief who's about to kill the guy you work for. So, she just shakes her head, feigning innocence. The maid frowns and thinks for a moment. “Introduce yourself as Circe Oliveoath of the Eastern Isles when people ask.” Sera nods. “I’m Dedrei, if you need me just ask.”

Sera nods and heads out, grabbing a fluffy white cloak to shield herself from the biting cold.
When she walks into the court, she feels all eyes on her. She tries to ignore it, but when she takes off her cloak she immediately gets pulled aside. Two girls are standing there.
“Oh my god! You look amazing! That red is perfect for you. And your horns! They’re beautiful! Not many Westerners have them!” The first girl squeals.

The second girl rolls her eyes. “You’re way too excited, Vencencia.” Vincencia pouts and huffs. “Why must you always ruin the mood, Cinderval?” Cinderval shrugs and regards Sera with a nod.

“You do look good though” She tosses her silver hair over her pale shoulder. Vencencia’s golden curls bounce as she compliments Sera. She commits their appearances to memory then excuses herself. She slips out of the hall and sighs, relieved that she’s not being stared at. She walks outside and grumbles.

“I’m so behind, I need to figure this all out and kill him.” She bumps into a little boy. Sera crouches down and checks him for injuries. When she finds none, she gently takes his hand. “What are you doing here all alone, hmm setize?” She whispers.

The boy coughs and sniffs. “My brothers are busy.” Sera hums and stands up.

“Come, we shall walk together and I’ll tell you stories, what do you say?” The boy nods and stays silent for a while as Sera tells him all about the East. “Circe? What does setize mean?” He mumbles, voice hoarse. “It means-”
“Damion! What the hell are you doing?” A voice calls across the hall. “We have to meet the Queen of the North and-” He pauses. “Who are you?” He looks Sera up and down, circling her like a shark.

Damion tugs the man’s sleeve. “She’s safe and nice. She told me stories.” Sera’s eyes widen and she curtsies. “Forgive me your highness, for I did not mean to impose on anything.”

Maxil shakes his head. “No, that's quite alright. You protected a royal in need, that’s a great deed. The king and my brothers will be alerted.” He stands up a little straighter and leads Damion away.

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Damion tugs Sal’s sleeve. “Sal? I know who I’m going to pick as your custdire.

Sal hums. “Oh yeah?”

Damion nods. “You’re going to really like her. She’s smart and I like her so we can’t…. You know her.”

Sal raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest. He ruffles Damion’s hair and winks at him. “Ready?”

“No.” Damion mumbles.

Sal pats his head and smiles, a rare sight that’s reserved only for his brother. “You will be.”

The four siblings head out into the centre of the court, standing before their people. The king stands in front of them and starts to talk. “Well, here we are again! It feels like it was just yesterday when I had my first Courtium. Now, let me refresh you all on the rules. 3 names will be chosen from the scribe and one will be chosen by the youngest of the princes. Each prince will have their own protector and that protector will be chosen today. Each prince has a duty to fulfill but Sailias shall have a guard handpicked by his own sibling, to go on assignments. Now, let the games begin!” The king booms and the crowd erupts into applause.

Salias steps forward and Sera swears she saw Vincencia swoon into Cinderval’s arms. She rolls her eyes and drops her. Sal picks up the scribe and whispers and incantation. A name appears on the page.

“Cloven Grey.” A thin satyr boy clumsily stumbles through the crowd. Sal extends a hand and smiles warmly at him, but it does not reach his eyes.

After the rest of the names are called,Damion finally steps forward. He takes a deep breath and Sera freezes when she feels those green eyes on her. “Circe Oliveoath .”