Some forty-odd years ago, on the mountainous island kingdom of Westik, the royal family was filled with internal turmoil. The late king Astien II had thirty-two legitimate children, eighteen of whom were eligible male heirs, when he passed to the Ether. The year the crown prince ascended to the throne, twelve of his brothers had died of various causes. Half a year later, two more princes joined the deceased. Tensions were high and though no one mentioned it, everyone knew why the princes kept dying. The remaining princes were the second and fourth princes, old and cunning enough to navigate the thorny royal politics, and the eighteenth prince—a child so young he’d not pose any threat to succession, who’d also lived his life in the shadows, never having properly entered the royal court. Few of his brothers even knew his name, much less his appearance.
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A figure cloaked in black stealthily approached the sleeping dwarf, slowly and quietly withdrawing a dagger from its sheath. The figure stabbed downwards and the dwarf’s eyes flashed open and he swiftly rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the dagger, which sliced through the featherbed like it was butter and penetrated even the firmer mattress layer beneath the featherbed. Down scattered everywhere as the dwarf rolled off the side of the bed and fled the room. He slammed shut the heavy doors and sprinted down the long dark corridor. At the end of the corridor, a figure wrapped in a shawl appeared, carrying a candle.
“Over here, my prince!” She called, removing her shawl and wrapping it around his shivering body.
“Marisa, someone tried to stab me!” He cried, his eyes watering.
Marisa pulled him into a hug and whispered, “You have to leave now… the second and fourth princes are dead. You are next, my prince. You need to escape and live!”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a room—a study, with tall bookshelves lining the walls and a desk at the front. Marisa made a beeline for the bookshelves and she grabbed a particular book, removing it from its place and pressing something within. As she replaced the book, a part of the bookshelf swung outwards and she pulled it open, revealing a small, dark pathway. They both crawled inside and Marisa pulled the hatch shut just in time to hear the door to the study creak open.
They crawled along the dark and cramped pathway until their knees ached and they were sweaty—from exertion or from fear, perhaps. Marisa quietly eased open the latch at the end of the passageway and carefully peeked out. Luckily, the room was empty, and they quickly got out, Marisa leading the prince up an endless flight of staircases.
“Uh, Marisa…” The prince tugged at her sleeve and asked, “Should we be going up the tower? Won’t we get trapped?”
She smiled and replied softly.
“Griffins await us in the aerie. We can use those to get away. Surely you don’t think that we can escape by boat? We live on an island, my silly prince!” Marisa ruffled his hair affectionately.
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So they continued up the spiral staircase in silence, the prince pondering over her words. They made sense, he reflected, and he wondered why she’d never told him earlier about the aerie. He would’ve loved to go up and play with the griffins in his spare time.
But I guess Marisa wouldn’t want to go up all these stairs to watch me every day, He thought.
They were greeted with a blast of cold air as Marisa pushed open the trapdoor that led up to the battlements. She climbed up first, then wandered over to the walls—consisting of an alternating pattern of merlons and crevasse, peering down below.
“My prince!” She called, a smile lighting up her face, “Come over here! We can see the whole kingdom from here!”
He walked over to her and she helped him sit on a merlon, her arms holding him firmly as he let his legs dangle. It truly was a spectacular view and he took it all in with wide eyes, enjoying the moment despite his near-death experience earlier.
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Everything happened at once. Marisa’s grip around him loosened, then slipped away completely and the next thing he felt was a hard shove against his back and the cold winds on his face and the tickling feeling of freefall.
At first, he was numb. His mind raced as he struggled to comprehend what happened. As he fell, he twisted and he saw the tower receding and Marisa peering over the edge, an unnaturally cold and unfeeling expression on her face.
T-That’s not Marisa, the prince thought. Marisa was warm smiles, cheerful laughs and a stolen pastry from the kitchen, shared between them. She wasn’t the one who’d pushed him off the ledge. She couldn’t have!
His small hands reached upwards, grasping nothing as he plummeted to the jagged cliffs below.
Strangely calm, he came to the realisation that he was going to die. The wind tugged at his clothes harshly and howled in his ears. The piercing chill quickly numbed his body and he wondered if he truly felt the biting cold or if it was the numbness of his limbs. A sharp gust of wind caught him and twisted him and he saw solid ground rushing up at him. His heart skipped a beat.
I’m going to die, He thought.
The ground hurtled closer relentlessly.
I don’t want to die!
His eyes watered and stung.
I want to live!
He closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable impact, his heartbeat thundering in his ears and stealing his breath away.
All of a sudden, piercing through his raspy, gasping breaths, was a soothing warmth emanating from his heart. Everything slowed. He vaguely felt a strange sensation on his forehead, then he felt the impact and it knocked the breath out of his lungs.
But unlike the rough and excruciatingly painful impact he’d expected, his body was folded into a soft, thick substance that slowed his fall and cushioned the blow. His eyes snapped open as he gasped for breath and he found himself cocooned in what looked like mud.
W-What happened?! He wondered, feeling himself alive and well, saved by the cocoon of mud. He grazed his fingers along the edges of the cocoon and they came away muddy. Looking around, he saw the open sky from above and he reached his hand around the edge and pulled himself up and out of the cocoon.
The prince looked up at the castle he could no longer call home, then turned away as unwanted memories surfaced and a painful constricting feeling welled up within him.