Veil: Tale of a 16 Moons [FANTASY EPIC] [MAGICAL COMING OF AGE + ROMANCE]

Imprisonment

Moonlit shores defined the gleaming sandy beach.

The Moon shone brightly above the night sky, oblivious to all the forthcoming pain the world would face. Black spiky doors were on the isolated gray sand of a lonely island. Black-helmed men stood upright with halberds, spears, and sharp scimitars. These men were as white as the snow, despite being situated in the tropical sea. Inside the steel doors, guards were wandering about, but in the center, a man, bound by chains, was suspended from the ceiling.

He was barefoot, only with a brown peasant garb over his torso. However, underneath, thousands of deep scars and red-hot welts accentuated his suffering. A man with a sneer etched across his face entered the dimly lit room, and the shadows danced around the figure.

His captor's voice sliced through the silence.

"My Prince, wake up. The time has come for your dinner."

The man shuddered as his weary eyes reluctantly lifted. The guard approached with a bowl of gruel held in his hands. With a cruel twist of satisfaction, he forcefully smeared it across the Prince's face. The scarred figure sputtered, but his eyes narrowed with a gaze that seemed to pierce the guard's soul. His captor took a step back involuntarily, and a flicker of fear crept into his expression. However, he quickly regained his composure.

"You can't even move, Alaric," the guard spat out, voice laced with contempt. "You will never escape this hell hole. But since I hold some twisted fondness for you,"

The guard leaned forward, and a smirk played on his lips as he taunted the Prince's dirt-smeared face.

"They ordered more chains."

The man took out another set of shackles and clamped it over the Prince's wrists. A grating laugh escaped the guard's lips, and it was an abrasive sound that only fueled Alaric's growing annoyance.

"After this, I'll pay a visit to your family and tell them how good of a boy you were." The enslaver rasped.

Alaric seethed inwardly. But then he remembered his training. Torture was a means to an end. If he didn't calm down, his downfall would come quickly.

For two long years, he had endured, and it all led up to the impending full moon, a mere three days before his scheduled execution. That was his moment of escape. Alaric vowed to kill everyone involved in his family's death, which burned the resentment of his captors in his mind thousands and thousands of times over. However, he grounded himself back to reality.

Manipulation was his only way out of this deadly game. Alaric's heavy eyes began to droop, and memories of his first night of captivity flooded his mind. He was betrothed to someone he did not love, and as was the custom for royals, his sixteenth birthday marked the path to his forced wedding. But during the ceremony, chaos erupted as screams echoed through the halls. It was a blur. He fell, and a shadowy figure clad in dark colors, adorned with a blackbird etched upon his chest, loomed over him with a bow and a cynical smile. These relentless assassins had subjected him to years of torment, leaving Alaric with a desperate desire for death or ruthless vengeance. He was powerless then, but tomorrow would change everything. For now, he had to wait, biding his time until the fortress would be consumed by preparations for his execution and when they would commence the honorary death ceremony.

Veritas:

In the heart of the wilderness, a vibrant red barn stood amidst the towering trees. Surrounding it, expansive fields stretched out, adorned with tralberries and worncrop, which were the local delicacies unique to the region's redwoods. The farmers who called the barn their home weren't driven by profits their generosity outweighed the pursuit of wealth. Young children would often flock to them, seeking snacks, and the barn family never failed to supply them.