Tarik scrunched his heavy eyelids tightly together. He felt drained, despite having been awake for some time now. Usually, he would have gotten up before the sunrise to start what felt like seemingly endless tasks. When he did not go through grueling weapons training, attend a private lecture or sit bent over complicated books, he shadowed his father in his royal duties. Which meant sitting through many different meetings and audiences. But right now, at this very moment, he had nothing - absolutely nothing - to do. Mornings of leisure weren't something he was accustomed to. It was strange. Simultaneously kind of nice yet extremely nerve wrecking. As if he was falling behind on a schedule that didn’t even exist. Mentally scolding his brain for trying so hard to ruin his morning off, Tarik sighed as he mustered up the energy to roll over in the soft silk sheets.

As the opportunity to have a slow day rarely presented itself, he very much intended to take this one. The moment, however, did not last long. A small whining of hinges heralded the opening of his chamber door, prompting the prince to instantly pry open his sticky eyelids as his heart rate spiked. The room was basking in soft sunlight coming in from the open windows. The light curtains swayed slightly where they hung along the walls as a gentle, warm breeze blew in. In the doorframe stood a short, overweight and balding man with a jovial smile. His favourite teacher. Behind the man was a servant, carrying a delicate golden tray filled with steaming hot tea and sweet biscuits for two. Tarik did not really care for the tea, but what kind of sixteen year old would he have been if he refused biscuits?

“My prince,” came the soft voice of his mentor. “I took the liberty of bringing some invigorating ginseng tea, as it's nearing noon. Although you do not have any studies today, you do still need to get ready.”

It was the day of his cousin's wedding.

As soon as the servant had clothed him in the opulent dark blue silk robes adorned with silver decorations and the silver upside-down crescent moon - which represented the Shikan royal family - Tarik sat down to inspect the bounty. The thicker and stiffer ceremonial robes could thankfully wait until right before the festivities began. His teacher smiled kindly at the servant and waved for him to leave them be. As the door closed, the older man poured the reddish-brown liquid into the dainty porcelain cups with great care. The earthy aroma gradually filled the air. Tarik watched him as he fought the urge to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Not that proper etiquette really mattered right now, but the years of training kept his spine straight and his hands carefully resting in his lap. When their respective teas slowly swirled around in their cups, his teacher leaned in closer. All traces of the usual easygoing expression were gone. A grim look grew upon his face.

“I have a bad feeling this morning, my prince,” he said in a low voice.

“Sure it’s not just gas?” Tarik asked wearily in a half-hearted attempt for deflection as he took a biscuit, feeling vaguely sick. He didn’t really have room for much more stress in his life. Not if he wanted to be somewhat functional.

His teacher gave him a stern, yet fond, look. The teen made a face. He knew his mentor was serious, as the old man usually skipped the titles when it was just the two of them.

“What makes you say that?” the prince tried to ask, but the biscuit he had just shoved down his throat strongly disagreed with his decision to eat and talk at the same time. The sentiment of the coughed question seemed to reach his teacher anyway as the old man answered it with a concerned tone.

“I do not know, but when I woke up this morning I felt immense dread… For you. Please stay within the eyesight of the guards.”

It was an easy promise to make. Once he had gotten the last crumb out of his throat, the rest of their breakfast tea continued in the usual fashion.

Later that day, during the ceremony, he did his best to be the perfect prince that he was trained to be. It was quite easy as all he had to do was to stay quiet, look presentable and stand next to his father and his stepmother as his cousin entered wedlock. Tarik was immensely grateful for his stepmother. His own mother had died when he was nine. While losing her had been hard, the slow change in his father after her demise had been worse. Nowadays, the new Queen would often calm his father when he got too angry and would sometimes even come to Tarik’s defence. He had lost count on how many times she had comforted him with gentle and kind words.

She had been the relatively newly appointed Royal Advisor when his mother died. Some of the higher nobilities - mainly the House of Kremic - had been close to initiating a civil war a year ago when the King announced that they were to be married. Tarik’s teacher didn’t particularly like the new Queen either. His reasoning, which was given to the teen behind closed doors, was the usual spiel about a king's duty.

“A good king creates stability. As a king one must be predictable, firm and fair. A king should not marry just for love.”

Tarik himself had never had a bad thought for her. In fact, he quite liked her. Besides, he’d much rather have a kind and loving stepmother, without political motives to kill him, than a scheming noblewoman. So what if she was a commoner?

When it was finally time for the wedding dinner, Tarik felt like he had endured the worst of the evening. His father would be held up at the main table, playing the political game. But when the rituals were over and the newly wed couple sat down to enjoy dinner, the King remained standing. All heads in the great hall turned in unison as the King suddenly spoke.

“What brings me here today is a very happy occasion!” the King exclaimed warmly. “And it is with even greater joy in my heart that I can announce that my wife, the Queen, is expecting a child.”

Slowly, an applause broke out. Someone cheered loudly. Tarik could feel the people around him turning to gauge his reaction. He made sure to appear relaxed and happily smiling. Locking eyes with a fellow table mate, he winked to give the impression that he had been in the know. Inward, he felt awful. How come he had not gotten to know at all? While he knew his father did not care for him, he had been sure his stepmom did.

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As the applause began dying down, the King continued: “I hereby declare the child second in line to the throne after my first born - Tarik.”

That was somewhat of a relief. He repressed the urge to sigh or have any visible reaction whatsoever. Not that he particularly cared for the throne. What would have been the problem was that he would have been expected to object to losing his place. But now? Now he could simply be happy about getting a sibling. He had always wanted one.

When the King finally sat down, the feast could begin. Tarik ate less than he probably should have. He was plagued by nausea that the whole ordeal had brought up. After pushing the nearly cold food on his plate around for a few times, he lifted his head up to take a look. Then he frowned slightly. Someone was missing. Where had his father gone? Tarik had expected him to sit at the main table, receiving congratulations from everyone. Yet the King was nowhere to be seen. Looking extra carefully around the vast hall he saw his stepmother standing by the exit, waving him over.

Tarik rose quickly, giving no answer to the questions of where he was going, and went to her.

“Come Tarik. Your father wanted to speak to you outside.”

The large door that his stepmother led him through took them outside the castle walls. His maternal grandfather’s castle - which would one day be his uncle’s, and one day his cousin’s - was one of the few castles in Shika that was located by the sea. As if that wasn’t enough, it was nestled right at the top of some very steep and tall cliffs. The view from the castle was breathtaking.

“Don't worry,” the Queen smiled soothingly as they stepped outside. “I'll come with you. Your father just wanted to apologise for not telling you sooner, as I had wanted to.”

And just like that Tarik was extremely nervous. Apology? It was far more likely he was expecting a dressing down. Not to mention that it would surely be worse than what he’d endured so far if they had to venture outside of the castle. What had he done wrong this time? He anxiously racked through his brain, trying and failing to come up with anything. His heart thumped unsteadily. It was always worse when he didn’t know how he’d screwed up.

The short journey was unadventurous and spent in silence. Conversation would have been difficult regardless due to the harsh wind blowing, tugging at their clothing and tousling their hair. Soon they could see the King standing in the distance, looking towards the sea. Although as they drew closer to the cliffs, the Queen turned towards the guards following them. Gently she told them to leave with a slight motion of her hand. The guards, with looks of deep admiration on their faces, followed her order without question.

When the guards disappeared from sight, the wind suddenly grew quiet. Almost eerily so. Tarik felt a shiver run down his spine as they reached his father. Whether it was caused by dread or something else, he could not say. Without a word the Queen glided gracefully next to her husband, looping his hand in hers in an almost possessive gesture. As the King turned to face Tarik, the setting sun cast long shadows upon the older man. The lack of light made it hard to decipher what his father was thinking. However, there was something strange in the way the Queen's eyes were twinkling. Almost as if she was excited for something. Something she had to keep under restraint.

“Walk with us,” the King commanded coldly.

Tarik gave a curt nod and took his place on his father’s left side, next to the edge of the cliff. His fingers began to tremble ever so slightly, belying his agitation. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back where the way his body betrayed him couldn’t be seen. The trio strolled that way for a while, none speaking, until suddenly the King and Queen came to a halt. Tarik stopped as well, slightly ahead of the two, as he turned to look at them.

“Tarik,” his father said in that disapproving tone of his, face void of emotion except for a minute frown wrinkling his forehead.

“Yes father?” he replied steadily as his palms began to sweat.

“I have had enough.”

Tarik averted his eyes, opting to stare at the ground unseeingly rather than face the look in his father’s eyes. He knew it well, the mixture of hate, disgust and disappointment - yet somehow the disappointment was always the worst. His shoulders slumped as he deflated under his father’s stern tone.

“In the past few years, you have brought much shame upon our House. What I'm left asking myself is why did I even bother trying to help you be what you were supposed to be? Not once have you managed to match what's expected of you. You’re clearly not worth the effort. I’m tired of wasting my time.”

The King paused for a moment, mulling over his next words.

“You have failed not only me but also our people Tarik. If the past has taught me anything, it is that you will keep failing. By the gods, it’s as if you don't want to succeed. Believe me, the last thing I want is your negative influence around my future child.”

Suddenly, he gripped Tarik tightly from the front of his shirt. In an instant the teen was roughly lifted up so that only his toes touched the ground. Startled by this, the prince looked up from the ground and fearfully locked eyes with his father. A part of him wanted to burst in hysterical giggles. He knew there was no way there’d be an apology. The mere idea was preposterous. As he struggled to resume breathing without letting out the completely inappropriate and surely punishable laughter, The King yanked him close to his face. So close that Tarik could feel the older man's breath brushing his cheek. The prince flinched slightly, despite his best attempts to remain outwardly unresponsive and detached.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for an opportunity like this,” the King whispered silkily in his ear. The voice was soft, almost gentle. Nothing he’d usually associate with his father when they were not in public. He thought he could almost hear a smile in it. It made his stomach clench painfully.

Feeling vaguely sick, he pulled his head backwards as he finally managed a shaky inhale. Desperately, he searched for the worried face of the Queen. She was always able to control father’s temper when it began to get out of bounds. Instead of the usual worry, however, he was greeted with a broad grin. One that showed her perfect white teeth. She stared at them gleefully, reminding him of a lioness playing with her food. And he was the gazelle trapped in the canyon.

The sight made his whole world come crumbling down. Father was right. Of course he was. He was always right. Even Nerezza seemed so happy about this. Which meant that he definitely deserved it, whatever was going to happen next.

Despite the gloominess of his thoughts, his eyes widened in shock as his father swiftly threw him over the edge. The last sound he heard was the deranged laughter of the Queen. He closed his eyes tightly, resigned to his fate as he prepared for the inevitable. Everything turned to black and he knew no more.

When the body hit the surface of the water, several bones were broken. The air was violently pushed out of the lungs and soon replaced with blood and salt water. The limp body sank down in the dark depths of the ocean.

The next morning, guard boats filled the perilous waters beneath the cliffside. None could find the body. Messengers sent all over the country told the story of the crazed prince trying to usurp the throne. Only in the highest tower of the old castle by the sea, one candle was lit in mourning. If any onlookers would have borne witness to the shadows it threw, they would have learned more about the creatures in the deep than Tarik ever did.

“A soul, for a soul"