Prologue (0.4)

Rylan woke up with his head buzzing. He opened his eyes to the still unfamiliar sunlight. Glancing at his arm he saw that Avellia had taken pity on him and healed it. He was in a bed, an actual bed. It felt so comfortable, like he could fall asleep again. Sitting in the chair was Una, looking slightly agitated. She had a small bruise on her forehead, but otherwise no one could tell that she had fallen fifteen feet.

Seeing he was awake, Una got up from the chair and walked out of the room. The room Rylan was staying in was furnished sparsely, yet it was the most familiar room he had seen in ages. It reminded him of his own room back at the blacksmith, and then the same blacksmith's when it became his, the place he paid for himself. It made him feel so independent. It was only a few weeks later that he wound up in a prison cell, but it was nice to have had independence, even if it was only for a little while.

Two years. He had been gone two years. Did his friends think he was dead? Alive? On the run or captive? Would they do anything to rescue him? Two years was a long time and they had most likely already given up on his survival. Rylan was always in so much pain that he never had any time to contemplate the good times. Only the bad memories.

Rylan was still in pain, he didn't think it would ever completely go away. He was hurt mentally, emotionally and physically. He was eighteen, and there were so many opportunities being eighteen, and he would never get to experience them.

Before Rylan could contemplate his existence any longer, Una walked in, accompanied by Avellia, draped in all black. She looked like she had come back from a funeral.

"Well, it's done. The king and queen, both dead." She said it casually, and quietly, so Rylan barely heard. When he did, he hid it the best he could, but he felt as if the world was ending. She hadn't attended a funeral; she had caused a need for one. The heir to the throne was his age, eighteen. She was not fit to rule V'Landon. Rylan already knew Avellia's next step. She was going to take the throne for herself.

"But," she continued, this time much louder. "We will celebrate that later. For now, we have a separate task to deal with. Hello, Rylan, did you have a good night's rest?"

"If you call unconsciousness sleeping, then sure, I 'slept' just fine."

"Glad to see you're still as chipper as ever. Let's get started." Avellia seemed happy, almost too happy, even though she had just committed murder. "Una, I'll need his blood." Nodding, Una unsheathed her own knife and approached Rylan. He didn't shrink. He just held out his wrist and watched as Una made a deep cut. It hurt, but Rylan kept the pain in. He always kept the pain in.

Grabbing an ornate china bowl, Una collected the blood. What bothered Rylan the most wasn't the fact that he was bleeding, and that the cut was now stinging, it was that Una was using a china bowl to collect it. During this time Avellia also cut herself and poured it into a potion bottle. When Una was done, they conjoined the two liquids.

Next, they added water. The potion bottle was half full. Avellia cut off a lock of her hair and pushed it in the bottle. Taking some leftover hair from Rylan's haircut, she sprinkled some in. Using her hand, she held the bottle over it and a steady flame heated over it. Soon enough, the hair had singed completely into dust.

Then they added the last ingredient. More blood.

"Whose blood is that?" Rylan asked. He had remained calm the entire time, knowing whatever they were trying wouldn't work. His medallion was safe, if he didn't give it to Avellia.

"Why, it's that of the king's and queen's. And some of your prey." Avellia smiled maliciously. Rylan had to fight the urge to gag but couldn't help wondering what she meant by "prey."

When all was added, Avellia did the final mixing then pulled out two goblets of fine glass. Taking those glasses, she evenly distributed the potion between them. Avellia kept one for herself and thrusted the other in Rylan's hand.

So, he did have to drink it. He had been hoping she would drink it all herself. Maybe she still would . . .

The glass fell out of his hands and shattered on the floor.

"Oops," he said with a smirk. Avellia only rolled her eyes as she raised her hand, the glass forming perfectly together, the liquid still in the cup. Instead of giving it to him, she hovered it over his lips.

"Now it's been all over the floor," Avellia said dramatically. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned menacing. "If you try anything else, I will make sure you feel pain." Motioning to Una, she pulled out a knife, walked to his back, and held it on the surface of his skin. She was already drawing blood.

"Bottoms up," she said as she began drinking. She showed no sign of how bad it tasted. She downed the entire drink in little over ten seconds. Wiping her lips, she smiled. "Your turn."