The elven prince and his companions stood before King Zaros, chained, bloodied, and disheveled, yet their eyes exuded unwavering dignity.

"Kneel before the king!" One of the guards shouted, striking Mirkia behind his knees with an unsheathed sword, forcing him to kneel. Witnessing that, Naryl and Calysius were on the verge of jumping on the guard when two other guards swiftly subdued them, forcing them into a kneeling position and pressing their swords against their necks.

The king rose from his throne, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, Prince Mirkia," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as it echoed through the chamber. "I must say, you are even more beautiful in person."

"And you are a monster," Mirkia spat, struggling against the chains that bound him. "You and your kind have brought nothing but death and suffering to my people."

Zaros's expression turned to one of mock pity. "Ah, my dear Mirkia, you are well aware of the history. It was your people who initiated the conflict many generations ago. They invaded our lands, slaughtered our kin, and took Malaya for theirs. Our response was merely an act of retribution as we gained strength and power. And now, the time has come for you to face the consequences of your crimes."

Mirkia felt a surge of anger course through him at Zaros's twisted version of history. But he knew better than to argue with a man who believed his own lies. Instead, he focused on containing his emotions, on maintaining the dignity that was all that remained to him.

“We are the victorious.” The king proclaimed triumphantly, “I've ensured that your kind will never pose a threat to us again. The land belongs to us, but as a sign of generosity, I'm willing to grant you some authority over your people. They will heed your commands, which, of course, align with mine." Mirkia's gaze hardened with resentment. How dare he suggest such a thing!

"Oh? It appears this role doesn't quite suit your preferences." King Zaros smirked, "Not to worry, I have another offer in mind." He gestured grandly, and one of his guards stepped forward, holding a glittering sword, and handed it to him. "I hereby dub thee... my pet," King Zaros intoned, pressing the sword against Mirkia's shoulders. "From this day forward, you shall serve at my pleasure, and your life shall belong to me."

As the cold metal touched his skin, fury surged through Mirkia like a raging storm. He struggled against the chains, his muscles straining against the unforgiving metal. But it was no use; he was powerless against the king's might.

The king leaned in, his breath reeking of wine. "You know, your father was quite the fool. He fought against the inevitable."

Mirkia gritted his teeth, feeling the chains dig into his wrists. "My father was no fool," he growled, struggling against the weight of the words he could not speak. "He was a brave and noble leader who fought for the freedom of his people."

The king's expression darkened, and he drew back as if struck. "Oh? is that so?" he sneered. "And what of the thousands of your people who died beneath his command, knowing he was fighting a losing battle? What of the destruction you elves wrought upon our lands long ago? We just took what was ours!"

Calysius's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white from the effort of not striking out. He couldn't bear to hear any more of this nonsense. "You are a liar!" he snapped. "Our people have never instigated an attack on yours—or anyone else, for that matter! It was you who started this war! You and your greedy desire for conquest! Malaya was never yours! You can lie all you want to your people, but you can not change the truth!"

The king's face reddened with anger as he advanced toward Calysius, closing the distance between them."Silence, dog!" he roared. "You dare insult me in my own court? You shall pay for that insolence!" He gestured to one of his guards, who kicked Calycius on his side several times. The elf noble coughed, struggling to breathe, but his eyes still held a defiant glare.

"You," Mirkia interjected, his voice low and steady, "are nothing but a coward who hides behind lies and conquest. Your people will never know peace or freedom as long as you reign."

The king's expression turned to one of amusement. "Ah, Mirkia, you flatter yourself. Do you think that you can break my will with your words? I am the king, the chosen one, destined to rule this world. And you, my pet," he said, mockingly, "you are but a pawn in my grand design.” He waved a dismissive hand, and his guards seized Mirkia, Naryl, and Calysius, dragging them roughly from the throne room.

As they disappeared down a dark corridor, Mirkia could hear the sounds of revelry fading behind them, replaced by the steady tramp of boots and the clanging of metal. He clenched his pendant tighter, vowing that he would find a way to escape this prison and reclaim what was rightfully his. The guards ushered him into one cell and Naryl and Calysius into another, positioned opposite. After shutting the doors securely, they left.

As Mirkia sat there, lost in thought. He closed his eyes and soon found himself lost in a world of memories.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He saw the face of his father, proud and noble, leading his army into battle against the forces of King Zaros. He saw the elven cities burning, the bodies of his kind littering the streets, and the look of betrayal in the eyes of his people as they realized that their leader had been slain.

Mirkia felt a tear trickle down his cheek as he relived the pain of losing his family and his homeland. But amidst the sorrow, he found a spark of anger burning brightly within him. It was an anger that fueled him, driving him to fight for his and his people's freedom.

Calysius and Naryl met his gaze, their eyes filled with determination and hope. They knew what he was feeling, they had felt it too. They were in this together.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing closer with each passing moment. Mirkia steeled himself, waiting for whatever was going to happen.

The door to his cell creaked open, revealing a guard clad in the familiar black uniform of the king's army. The guard walked slowly towards him and stopped, he held out his hand and grabbed Mirkia’s cuffs. He inserted a needle-like key in a concealed tiny hole. A gleaming cylindrical stone popped out of its housing. In its place, he inserted a dim, lifeless stone of the same size and shape. Silently, the guard exited the cell, securing the door as he departed.

Mirkia turned to Naryl and Calysius, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What was that about?"

Calysius shrugged, his expression uncertain. "Perhaps it was some sort of device to control the chains," he suggested. "Or perhaps it's a way for them to track us."

Naryl, however, looked unconvinced. "But if that's the case, why didn't he do the same for our cuffs?" he asked, "Why only His Highness’s?"

The words hung in the air, unanswered. The cell fell silent once more, each prisoner lost in their own thoughts. Mirkia continued to study the cuffs, feeling a growing sense of unease. Was this some sort of test? A sick game being played by their captors? Or was there something more to it?

As the minutes ticked by, Mirkia found himself growing more and more restless. He stood up, pacing back and forth in his cell, the chains rattling with each step. He glanced over at Calysius and Naryl, their faces etched with worry and confusion. He had to do something, anything to break this feeling of helplessness.

He stopped in front of the cell bars, staring out at the dimly lit hallway beyond. As he turned away, his gaze settled on a small crack in the stonework. Intrigued, he reached out and ran his finger along the edge of the crack, feeling for any loose stones. After a moment of careful prodding, he managed to dislodge one. It clattered to the floor, drawing the guard's attention.

"What are you doing?" the guard demanded, hurrying over. "Stop that!" He opened the cell door and grabbed Mirkia roughly by the arm, yanking him away from the cell bars. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he sneered, thrusting Mirkia back into his cell. "But you're just a pathetic little elf, and we're going to break you."

Mirkia struggled against the guard's grip, but it was no use. He felt a fresh wave of anger rising within him as he was dragged away. The guard shoved him roughly and slammed the door shut with a clang.

Calysius and Naryl exchanged worried glances. The guard locked eyes with Mirkia for a moment before turning and walking away. As soon as the guard was gone, Mirkia began to examine the crack more closely. He noticed that the loose stone had created a small opening, large enough for him to fit a finger through.

"I think I can widen this crack," he whispered. "If I can use earth magic to create a space big enough to squeeze my hand through, and then narrow it around the cuffs, I might be able to wriggle free." He took a deep breath, focusing his magic on the stonework.

Calysius and Naryl exchanged glances, unsure if this was the best course of action. They understood why Mirkia hadn't attempted to free himself with magic; after all, fire was the only element that could effectively manipulate metal, but melting it onto his skin seemed far from safe. Moreover, they also knew that Mirkia, not fully awakened, lacked the strength to wield his magic in combat, rendering him vulnerable in any confrontation. The looming threat of alerting the guards by using magic added another layer of complexity to their dilemma. However, seeing their prince feeling so helpless was harder to endure. Thus, they remained silent, allowing him to proceed despite the risk.

As Mirkia focused his energy on widening the crack, they silently held their breath. However, nothing happened, there was no magic. He focused again, but nothing. He tried one more time, pouring all of his concentration into the stonework, but still, there was no response. It was as if something had been blocking his magic, or worse, it had been taken from him.

"W-why…", said Mirkia in a low panicked voice, while he kept trying to use his magic, "Th-that can be…", he tried to concentrate harder, sweat rolled down his face, but still nothing. Despair began to creep in, replaced by anger and frustration. Mirkia slammed his fists against the wall "Why won't it work?" he growled.

"Please calm down, Your Highness.", said Naryl, wishing that these bars that separated them would vanish so he could go comfort his prince.

Calysius came closer to the bars, "Yes, Mir, please calm down. We don’t want the guards to notice what you were trying to do."

Mirkia slumped against the wall, defeated. "I can't do it, anyway," he whispered, his voice cracking with despair. "They've taken everything from me, even my magic." Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized the hopelessness of their situation. Without magic, they were no better than animals, trapped in these cells with no way out.

Calysius and Naryl exchanged glances, their hearts heavy with sympathy for their prince. They knew that Mirkia's magic was not just a tool, but a part of who he was. The loss of it must feel like losing a limb.

Despair settled over the group like a cold, wet cloak. They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Mirkia bit his lower lip as he contemplated their dire situation. Naryl and Calysius tried to think of some way to lift Mirkia's spirits, but nothing came to mind.

In the distance, they could hear the muffled laughter of the guards. It was a cruel, mocking sound that seemed to taunt them from beyond the bars.