Shift

Void

Eira saw Laria walk into the cell, somewhat confused. Eira herself was sitting on the cold, uncomfortable bed and the boy was slouched against the wall. It must be odd, she thought, seeing someone sleeping against ice.

"W-what's he d-do-doing?" Laria asked her "I-It's way to c-c-co-cold to be s-sleeping on ice!"

Eira nodded in agreement. In her opinion it was way to cold to be sleeping, but the boy always woke up, and wasn't cold in the slightest. She didn't question it. They all found a way to escape at the prison. They all found a way to free their minds from the physical and psychological torture they went through on a daily basis.

She herself wrote stories. She wrote stories of a free world, stories of a land where Shifters were accepted as people too. Her grandmother had told her of the times when she was a child that Shifters and humans lived in peace. Accepting their differences. But all that changed when King Rhoran came into power.

His mother had been extremely ill, and they called in a Healer, a specialist Shifter who's powers were not to change their own bodies but change the health of others. This Healer was one of the last, and her powers dwindled each time she used them.

The gift of Healing came with great loss. Every time a Healer used a bit of its magic, that magic would never come back. It was like a genetic defect. While a normal Shifter could regain depleted magic, and such only happened when the Shifter was extremely fatigued. A Healer could not.

The healer that King Saltren brought in was old, and her power was weak. She tried and tried, but nothing could heal the disease that struck down the richest, cleanest, and most powerful woman in Cairn. King Saltren was a fair and just King. He knew that it wasn't the Healers fault.

But after that, the sickness, now called Prythol, swept over Cairn and the surrounding Kingdoms, and killed 75% of the population. King Saltren included. Prince Rhoran, however, survived the plague.

He felt as if the plague was the Healers fault, but she had died of old age. So he took his anger to the closet thing. The Shifters. All Shifters, Healers or not, had two days to leave the Kingdom. If they were still in Cairn in 48 hours, they were fair game. Anyone could kill one and bring the head in for a 100 gold coins. A lot of money. Families and friends turned on each other, each scrambling to collect the prize.

Eira's grandfather had been turned in by his own daughter. That's how the Queenston family earned their name. Shifter hunters during the Riots, celebrities in a way after. Claudia Queenston kicked half of her family out of the house, into the riots below.

As well, Claudia turned in her own grandmother, Eira's great grandmother Lilith Azovia. Lilith had done so many things, both for humans and Shifters, and she was replayed with a bloody murder. She stabilized the West quarter of the kingdom, and was given land and a title in thanks. She became the Dutchess of Azovia, and helped the land of Azovia find stability, wealth, and comfort.

And instead of being granted a pardon, she was killed with the rest of the Shifters.

Now I'm getting off topic.

Eira watched as her closest friend sat down, shivering. Laria's breath froze upon impact with the air, and Eira herself fared no better. Buy the boy stayed still, not even breathing.

"Um.... is h-he... ok-k-k-kay?" Laria asked her, freezing.

"Yeah.... he d-does that all the t-t-time" Eira forced out, her lips nearly freezing shut with each word.

Just as the redhead finished speaking, the boy woke up. His breath condensed in the cold and his eyes fluttered open. He pushed himself up against the cold metal cot and rubbed his arms in an attempt to ward off the cold. Messy raven hair sat in his face, and his eyes mirrored Eira's grey and amber.