𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦'𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐳 .𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝.

| 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 |

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏
𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

"Burn her alive!"

"Stake her heart!"

"Slit her by the throat!"

The cries of the crowd circled around me, suffocating me. Their sea of faces was contorted with a thirst for death. Flames danced in their eyes, fueled by centuries worth of fear. Drawn by a monster of stories, a charming booth of foreseen sins.

Bound by heavy metal chains, I stood in the center of the silted area, my gaze was locked on the sand. I watched their torches spark up the closer it got to me, its fire begging for a taste of my blood.

My feet were barely able to move as I gazed at the tight rope cutting my circulation. I could only imagine the veins on my face popping out like a burn against my skin as the chains bit into my neck.

Accusations continued to rain down upon me, I closed my eyes attempting to escape their defiling. This wasn't my choice. I didn't ask for this.

Darkness encircled me as images flushed past me, myths...legends, of a bloodthirsty creature—a man, nonetheless, who had driven my village to insanity once more. In the darkness behind my eyelids, memories flashed- the fragments of a life before this nightmarish juncture.

10 years ago.

I fiddled with the loose ribbon around my dress as I sat on the tattered ivory carpet. My blue ball gown spread around me. Light as a feather, its thread mingled with the candlelight flickering in the background.

The hushed whispers and giggles of small children wrapped around me as the room simmered down to silence. They, and I, were ready to hear the stories of the dark prince. I quickly huddled closer to my brown bear, fear tracing my veins.

A tall masked figure emerged from the red curtains of our olden library, its satin red fabric swayed against his costume. My eyes were wide with fear as I gazed at the white-painted face of the man.

Charcoal eyes, ruby-red lips, and fangs hung from his gummy smile. The mask, twisted into a sinister grin, ogled at the young children in front of him. A sharp voice slithered from his mouth as he began to speak, his arms encased by a black cloak, began to move like swifts of smoke.

The masked storyteller continued his narrative, each word a brushstroke to a hideous painting, a portrait of the prince that haunted our imaginations.

I watched with a thumb in my mouth as the rest of the children leaned forward, their eyes wide as they hung on every chilling detail.

"Skin as yellow as a harvest moon at its zenith. Striking fear into the hearts of mortals, his face bores the scars of his victims." He walked down the rows of kids, raising his bony fingers over the monarchs.

A grin plastered on his face. "His nose, cruelly erased, left behind a great void, an absence of a feature. His lips," He paused in front of me, dragging his fingers up my lips, dragging my cheeks up crushing my eyes. "Mangled and bloodied, contorted into a permanent smile that slices way up to his eyes, eternally frozen in a sinister ritual." I hugged my bear tighter, my nails digging into its fur.

I pulled away from his grip, his eyes squinting down at me. I could feel his heavy breath looming over my small figure and the chill of his touch lingered on my skin like a sinister memory. The storyteller's gaze bore into me, and fore a moment, I felt like a victim in the very legend he was telling.

His voice lowered, resonating like a group of sharp knives, "The prince, condemned to the chains of the devil, prowls on the mortal realm, seeking the hearts of the innocent to feed his hungry soul. Beware, children, for his hunger is insatiable, and his reign of darkness knows no bounds."