The young man crawled on the ground, leaving a red river in his wake. Ayah stood, unable to move, unable to hurry to his side, to stop him from hurting himself further.

He looked up, his eyes held a dullness that Ayah saw only once−Inside an upturned car, staring at her from her mother’s dead eyes. He lifted his arm up and stretched it towards her. His lips formed words but no sound made it through his torn throat.

Then his head tilted to the side and tilted and tilted, till it fell off his small torso. Blood gushed from his cut neck like a fountain, till it reached Ayah’s legs. Then the puddle turned into a pool of red at her feet. Ayah fell, the red pool swallowing her up.

Ayah jerked awake. All the nerves in her body screaming in protest at the sudden movement. Her eyes were wide open but unseeing, unable to shake the image of the young man as he tried to crawl to her side. Her throat croaked, sounds escaped her lips, but she couldn't make sense of them. Was she screaming? Was she calling for someone?

Ayah blinked, her breathing harsh and fast. A mounting feeling of hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, to drown her. She didn't recognize where she was, nor did she remember what she was doing before.

Someone laid a hand on her forehead, warm soft hands holding her down more than soothing her.

“Go back to sleep,” a voice whispered somewhere over her.

Ayah obeyed.

The second time she woke up, consciousness came to her in bits and pieces. She was first aware of the soft mattress beneath her, the featherly pillow cushioning her head, the silken sheet covering her. Then came the sounds. Hushed whispers floated around her, one female and comforting, the other sounded more youthful and concerned.

Ayah peeled her eyelids open, only to squeeze them tight against the harsh light making the pounding pain at her skull double. For a frantic moment, she wondered whether she was still inside the tunnel, buried under tons of rocks and rubble, or maybe she had been held captive by the murderous protagonist and she never made it back to Temsia’s quarters.

Her fingers twitched and closed into a loose fist, and her legs shifted slightly under the covers. It was only then, she allowed herself to relax, breathing a sigh of relief at the absence of chains or manacles. She was free. She wasn’t held prisoner.

The voices beside her hushed. “She’s awake,” one of the two occupants of the room whispered.

Shoaib.

Before she could call him, she heard him shoot up to his feet and hurry away, and back not long after, another set of footsteps in his wake. Firm and steady.

She opened his eyes to slits, giving her a blurred view of Jamila bending over her bed.

“What happened?” she croaked out. Her throat was dry as if she had been screaming.

“That's what I would like to know,” Harith snapped, somewhere beyond her field of vision.

Ayah squinted her eyes shut. It was loud, too loud. His harsh voice grated against her brain.

“You disappeared for a couple hours, then came back like death warmed over,” Harith continued. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if I had not come across you?”

Ayah frowned. Why was he so angry?

“Oh, I'm furious.” Harith hissed.

Ayah grimaced. Did she say that out loud?

She squinted one eye open. Harith was standing next to the bed, looking down at her, his eyes glinting with fury.

She struggled to sit upright. Jamila materialized by her side, nearly startling her. She put a couple cushions behind her back and went to rummage through her bag, taking out herbs and small vials of questionable liquids.

Harith stretched his hand and a chair in the far corner of the room fell through the floor only to emerge from next to him. Ayah stared at him, awed.

“Amazing,” she muttered.

Harith glanced at her, then away. He sat on the chair and cleared his throat. “Well, how about you tell us what happened?” he asked, all the anger from earlier somehow vanished.

Shoaib snorted. His uncle sent him a look, and he shrugged and took a seat at the foot of the bed. Jamila hovered near, mixing herbs into a purple looking liquid. Ayah dreaded the finished product.

She startled, suddenly remembering the small bundle that was trembling in her arms before she blacked out.

“What about the girl?” she asked, frantic. “What happened to her?”

Harith regarded her with a stern look. Ayah feared what he would say. Did he hand her over to the kingdom of Nur as per the two kingdoms’ agreement? Fear clasped at Ayah’s chest, stealing her breath away. She could already see the little girl’s corpse discarded next to the man’s.

Just as Ayah’s thoughts were spiraling down a darker path, he sighed.

“I sent her away. She’s on her way to Temsia as we speak,” he said.

Ayah’s tense shoulders sagged. She hunched over, her fingers that had tightly grasped the sheet at some point, loosened.

“Thank God,” she kept muttering.

The little girl was saved.

She didn’t notice she had started crying. Harith stared at her, a clueless expression on his face. Ayah laughed, agitating Harith further, inciting her to laugh even louder till her chest ached with a welcome pain.

“Thank you,” she said.

He shrugged. “Really, after one, what’s one more?”

Ayah laughed.

After she calmed down, she took a deep breath, and told them what she had witnessed in the tunnels, leaving out anything that had to do with the system.

The reason for her wandering into the tunnels? She had heard some strange sounds and wanted to investigate.

Everything else… Well, there was no reason for her to conceal or redact it.

“I see,” Harith said.

“What should we do?”

“For the time being… nothing.”

“What? But innocent people are dying! How cou−”

“I know.”

Ayah’s mouth closed with a click.

So that was it. They’ll just let them get killed…

“Some of these children get turned in by their own parents for the promise of a hefty reward. The most we can do is outbid the Nur kingdom.”

Ayah blinked at him, uncomprehending. “You’re… going to buy children from their families?” she asked dumbfounded.

“It’s the only way to get them away from Nur’s clutches. Some parents take matters into their own hands and eliminate the accursed child themselves.”

“What…”

“The best we can do is entice them with gold.”

“...that’s horrible…” Ayah muttered.

“... I know,” Harith said.

“What about the treaty?” Jamila asked. “Nur won’t stay put as it sees Temsia gather a huge number of accursed, children or not.”

“The treaty is a farce. Temsia should never have agreed to it,” Harith narrowed his eyes at the dragon statue visible through the window. “We should have fought till the last one standing.”

Ayah had insisted on attending the banquet that would announce the official start of the ceremonies. She even drank two bottles of the bitter purple medicine. She felt rejuvenated, but didn’t think her taste buds would recover anytime soon.

There was also the matter of her stats. Neither her health, nor her stamina were back to their normal level. It was still hours till they would be fully recovered. Jamila’s potion helped to bring her to her feet, but it would be best to evade any fight or quest till she was fully recovered.

There was also the matter of leveling up. She hadn’t leveled up since the forest. And now that she saw the huge difference in strength, she itched to hear the system’s melodious ding as it announced her advancement.

She glanced at the red message displayed on the screen. She had noticed it since she first woke up and was able to focus her thoughts into a straight sentence. But the uncle and nephew pair had yet to leave her side long enough for her to check it out. At least it wasn’t a warning. She could postpone it a little further.

Later then…

The seven kingdoms’ monarchs were in full royal regalia, each displaying their royal crests stitched to the side of their tunics. Their intricate swords by their side and retinue vigilant at their back.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

What they all had in common was their noticeable distance to the Temsian royalty. They all scurried away as soon as their greetings were done, sending furtive and suspicious looks towards the general, and pitying ones directed at Shoaib.

All but one.

A young girl with glazed strawberry locks reaching to her waist greeted Shoaib with a beaming smile. Ayah knew who she was without need for introduction. Naila, Aayan’s little sister and the fandom’s darling. A petite girl, Shoaib’s age, with the lightest shade of green eyes with a hint of red at the corners.

“Prince Shoaib, it’s a pleasure to see you this year.” She peered at him through her eyelashes, clasping his hand between hers.

“Eh, me too,” Shoaib said, dislodging his hand. “Princess.”

He didn’t sound too enthusiastic to see her. He took a step back, his lips pulled into an awkward smile. He glanced away, as if looking for a way out.

“Are you going to participate in this year’s competition?” she asked, unfazed by his attempt to evade her.

Shoaib looked at her and crossed his arm over his chest. “Of course. I shall bring glory to the kingdom of Temsia and slay the strongest monster in the forest,” he proclaimed with a puffed chest.

She nodded, her eyes brightening when his eyes fixed on her. “I’m sure that Prince Shoaib is the strongest contestant this year.”

Shoaib’s cheeks dusted with a light pink. He cleared his throat, his boot grating at imaginary pebbles. “Naturally. I have the best swordsman in all of Morr as my mentor.”

She nodded readily, as if he didn’t just proclaim that his uncle was stronger than her brother.

“I have trained for months. I’m pretty certain I’ll win this year.” He kept on talking and she kept on listening to him. Each nod of her head easing the tension in his shoulders.

Ayah observed the two, a fond smile on her face. If only her brother wasn’t a mass murderer…

“Children.” Harith sighed.

Ayah nudged him in the side. “Let them be. They won’t be young forever.”

“It’s the who I have a problem with,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s the princess of this kingdom.”

True. Being Aayan’s little sister wasn’t the only problem here. She was a princess. And in this world, marriage and politics were too intertwined to be considered separately. Love had no place with royalty.

Ayah sighed. One would think superpowers would allow for some leeway.

“Dear sister, I see you’ve recovered.”

Both Naila and Ayah stilled at the voice. Aayan stood a few feet from the opened door to the hall. His hand was over his scabbard, a slight tremor running along his arm, there but barely noticeable.

Naila took a step back, her hands trembling for a second before she hid them in the folds of her sky blue dress.

“Brother.” She bowed deeply. “I woke up today slightly better and thought I could go out for some fresh air.”

“I see.” He nodded, smiling. “I’m glad you’re feeling alright. But don’t strain yourself too much,” he added with a slight frown of concern.

Ayah felt a shiver run down her back. Both his smile and concern seemed fake to her. No matter how sweetly they sounded to other people’s ears.

“I still feel a bit faint,” Naila said as she brought her hand to her head. “I better head back now.” She bowed again, then left in a flurry of blue and honey brown.

“General.” He nodded his head towards Harith. The general answered in kind.

Then he turned to Shoaib. Ayah wanted to claw his eyes out.

“Crown prince Shoaib, I’m glad to see you’re completely healed. I can’t express my regret that such a threat managed to evade the watchful eyes of our royal guards.” He bowed his head. “I offer my sincere apologies.”

Shoaib stood tall, straining his neck to appear taller than he was. “Apology accepted, king Aayan.”

“I sincerely thank you for your generosity.”

He nodded to them again, then left, entering the hall followed by a black haired man, Zain going by the scar that ran from his forehead to his chin, missing his eye by a hairbreadth. The king’s closest confidant.

Zain shot Ayah a fleeting look before he disappeared behind the doors.

“What a bastard,” Shoaib hissed. “Acting all innocent and nice now.” He huffed,

“Language.” Harith sighed, running his hand over his face. “Let’s get in shall we?”

The hall was huge. Six banquet tables were lined up on both sides of the hall for the six delegations from the six kingdoms. At the furthest side, overlooking the hall’s heavy gilded doors, mounted on a raised platform was the seventh one. The banquet table that would host the king of Nur and his retinue.

“Before we start the celebrations, I am saddened to bring a matter of the utmost importance to your attention,” Aayan said in a booming voice to get everyone’s attention. He stood at the raised platform, and with a flick of his hand, two royal guards positioned themselves behind each table, hand on their swords.

“Yesterday, something was stolen from my family. Something that has been passed down from generation to generation. A heirloom from the first emperor, slayer of the Dark Lord and the sun bearer.” He shook his head, a frown marring his face. “Guards were sent, as we’re speaking, to each of your hosting quarters to search for it. I would like to have your cooperation in finding my birthright and bringing whoever did this to face justice.”

“Are you accusing us of stealing?” One of the monarchs yelled, his face red from anger.

“I dare not,” Aayan said with a smile.

“This is preposterous!”

“Are you trying to breach the treaty?”

“I will not stand here while you tarnish my family name!”

Yells and shouts filled the hall. Harith shifted on his feet, and one of the warriors that had accompanied them to the banquet vanished into thin air.

Harith eyed Ayah before his eyes fixed on one of the guards behind their table. “Should I be worried?” he asked, his hand hovering over his sword.

If the girl was what Aayan was looking for, then there was no way for him to find her in the mansion.

If it was the dragon egg… well… let him look.

Ayah gave a slight shake of her head. “No.”

Harith nodded.

“Is this a war declaration?” Shoaib asked, glancing at the threatening guards. “I’m pretty sure if any of the other kingdoms did the same, it would already be considered a treaty breach. No questions asked.”

“I see you still pay attention to your lessons.” Harith raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uncle!”

Ayah couldn’t believe how they could look so at ease when the situation was so dire.

A royal guard entered the hall, hurrying toward Aayan. He whispered something to him and the king’s face morphed into a displeased expression.

Aayan advanced towards them, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“General, I’ve just been notified of some unfortunate news. It appeared that you might have been unknowingly harboring an accursed. It must have slipped from under your keen senses. But worry not, I am willing to assist you in getting hold of them.”

Ayah stilled. Was he talking about her?

She glanced at him, but the king’s eyes were focused on Harith, not sparing her a glance.

Was it the little girl then?

The whole hall fell into a deafening silence, their grievances momentarily forgotten. They all watched as the two enemies stared down at each other.

Harith stood in front of Aayan, his face expressionless in contrast to Aayan’s smiling face.

“Are you accusing the kingdom of Temsia of breaking the treaty?” he asked, his voice eerily calm.

Aayan smiled pleasantly. “I wouldn’t dare, dear friend. I’m simply worried you have been fooled by a demonic acolyte.”

“Are you implying that Temsia is weak enough to be toyed with?”

For a split second, Aayan’s face marred into an ugly frown, before his iconic smile was back in full force. “Of course not. But one has to always be vigilant. You might never know when one of them approaches you with the face of a friend, then stabs you in the back the moment you trust them the most. I am simply concerned that such a vile creature could be much closer to Temsia’s royalty without their notice.” He glanced at Shoaib then back to Harith. “I suggest you pay closer attention to whom you allow near your crown prince.”

Suddenly, the whole hall was cloaked in darkness. The only source of light was the faint flickers from the candle chandeliers hanging over them. Horrified shrieks echoed around the hall. Some uttered hushed prayers, others cursed at their luck.

Harith’s face was untouched by the light emanating from the flame hovering in the air− summoned by Aayan the second Harith called upon his shadows. “Do not presume you have the right to tell me how Temsia should deal with things. I suggest you focus more on your own house. Your guards have become sloppy to the point of allowing an intruder inside without notice.”

The smile fell from Aayn’s face, and his eyes filled with such hatred, the whole hall would have collapsed from its intensity.

“Uncle,” Shoaib whispered.

As quickly as it had appeared, the darkness vanished leaving the hall bathed in the bright light flooding from the windows. Ayah never thought daylight could be so blinding.

“Forgive me, my friend. I didn’t mean to transgress upon your matters. I merely spoke out of concern,” Aayan said, his smile fraying at the edges.

“Noted,” Harith replied.

Aayan turned to the frightened guests and reassured them that everything was fine.

Ayah stared at Harith. This was why he was known as the Dark Lord’s heir. They both had dominance over darkness. Or more precisely, over shadows.

Long ago, she had readily accepted his depiction as a villain merely for his powers. But now… she glanced at Aayan. Not even the brightest powers were enough to light up some people's hearts.

Aayan glanced back at her, his lips pulled into a barely noticeable smirk. “I’m glad you recovered well. It would have saddened me were you hurt gravely.” he whispered.

Ayah stilled, her eyes widened in shock.

He knew…

How come…?

He smiled at her, glancing at Harith who had shifted his body towards them, and left with a whispered “later then,” on his lips.

Ayah stood there, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, each one worse than the other.

How did he find out? She had made sure to conceal her identity. She was sure he hadn’t seen her face.

She glanced at Shoaib’s scowling face, his eyes staring daggers at the retreating monarch’s back.

What did she do? She had implicated others into her own problems. The kingdom of Temsia would be held accountable for sheltering her. Can she claim they didn’t know about her circumstances? There was no way to know if someone was an accursed unless with the device the Nur kingdom claimed was in its possession.

Her legs no longer able to support her weight, she sat on her designated seat, almost slumped over. When she glanced up at Aayan, she found him still staring at her. His smile widened in what would appear to the others as a gentle one. She looked down at the plates in front of her, the smell of delicious food nauseating to her anxious self.

The other monarchs resumed their shouting, voicing out their displeasure. Some of them even threatened to withdraw from the banquet. The king spoke to them softly, whatever he said to them, seemed to assuage some of their anger.

Shoaib and Harith stood leaning on the table, whispering amongst themselves.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, unable to meet their eyes. She had become too accustomed to see Shoaib’s smiles and Harith's almost concerned look directed at her. She didn’t want to see their condemnation. She couldn’t deal with it.

“You’re here as part of Temsia’s delegation. Hold your head high and don’t falter, no matter what,” Harith said, his voice firm but devoid of any accusation.

Shoaib snorted next to him. “Would it hurt you to be nice for once?” He narrowed his eyes at his uncle, rebuking him. He turned to Ayah and sent her a smile. “Don’t worry about it. If Temsia can’t protect one of its own, then it has failed its reason for existence.” He grinned.

Ayah smiled, blinking the wetness from her eyes. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, and nodded when all words failed to convey her feelings, but the tears that she had tried hard to stop flowed freely, unbidden.

A handkerchief was thrust in front of her face, and Ayah took it and dabbed at her cheeks.

“Dry your eyes and look ahead,” Harith instructed, though his tone didn’t bear its usual harshness when he was overseeing his warriors’ training.

Shoaib nudged him in the side. “Damn it, uncle. You don’t know when to keep quiet.”

“Language,” Harith scolded him.

“Jamila was right. You’re worse than I thought,” Shoaib continued, completely ignoring him.

Harith eyed him. “Is that what you were doing instead of learning the healing arts? Chatting about the ones who were performing their duties?”

“I’m studying it as you instructed. You can ask Jamila.” Shoaib protested.

Harith raised an eyebrow at him, doubtful.

“I can already perform the simpler spells,” Shoaib insisted.

“Right.”

“It’s the truth!”

A snort of laughter escaped Ayah’s lips. She looked at the pair in front of her, shocked. They stared at her, their surprise mirroring hers. Shoaib laughed. And dared she think she saw a small smile trace itself onto Harith’s lips.