In the country of Arrothon, where supernatural abilities are deemed a grave threat and punishable by death, the King enforces this cruel decree. Among his six sons, Prince First secretly opposes the policy, believing it to be both unethical and inhu...
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————— | Beginnings | —————
In the country of Arrothon, a rigid monarchy has long governed the land with an iron fist, deeply instilling in its citizens a profound fear and hatred of mutants—individuals born with extraordinary abilities and appearances.
According to the royal edicts, mutants are not only monstrous but inherently bloodthirsty, a threat to the country's safety and order. The belief has been perpetuated through state-controlled education, propaganda, and public news outlets, ensuring that the populace remains vigilant and hostile.
Every child's upbringing is steeped in tales of mutant horrors and the heroic efforts of the king's enforcers to eradicate them all. But what's so heroic in that?
As a result, a deep-seated prejudice permeates society, making it a dangerous world for anyone who might be different or harbor secret mutations.
The fear for some mothers of giving birth in a hospital is so pervasive that many expectant parents avoid it entirely. The thought of entering a sterile, white-walled hospital—where the clinical coldness contrasts sharply with the warm, vibrant life of a newborn—brings a shiver of dread.
To them, the hospital is not a sanctuary of life but a place of lurking danger. Rumors spread like wildfire about what happens behind those doors: whispered accounts of babies being taken away from their mothers under the guise of routine care, only to disappear forever, just because they're different.
"But not all mutants are monsters, right?"
The question lingered in Firsts's mind, an echo of doubt in the heavy silence.
The prince, lost in contemplation, was abruptly drawn back to the present by the soft, hesitant voice of his maid.
She was carefully drawing back the opulent curtains, allowing a flood of golden sunlight to cascade into the bedroom. The light danced across the rich paintings and polished wooden floors, casting intricate patterns that shimmered with the same brilliance as the grand chandelier overhead.
Each crystal in the chandelier caught the sunlight, scattering it into a thousand tiny rainbows that illuminated the room with a dazzling, ethereal glow.
"Did you say something?" First asked, sitting up in his bed, the rich velvet covers sliding off him as he moved. The maid, Amara, turned to face him, her delicate hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her smile was strained, a subtle hint of unease playing at the corners of her lips. It was evident in the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other that she felt out of place.
"What is it, Amara?" First's voice, though soft, carried a note of curiosity as he took in her discomfort.
"Your highness," Amara began, her voice wavering slightly, "your father has requested that you and your brothers join him in the dining room once you are dressed." Her gaze darted downward, fixating on the wooden floor as if it might offer her some comfort.
