[THIS STORY WILL BECOME FREE ON THE 5th OCTOBER 2023]
Fara's husband, the Prince of Azura, is murdered and she's enslaved by his killer, Theodan, a warrior fighting a war he doesn't believe in - until her.
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She let the pointless struggle leave her and stilled in his hold. She could not fight him. Much like she could not fight Valdr. If he was to let her down, what then? Was she to fight the king's guards? Was she to get herself and Arielle killed? She was as weak and powerless as she had always been.
What would it feel like to be strong and fearless like a Leoth she wondered, like Theodan. To be so powerful that even a King might fear you. The Zybar King had shown a glimmer of fear before the Leoth; as though even he knew that his men were no match for him. Another hundred Zybar would perhaps have a chance against him, but those gathered around the king's audience would have been dead in moments.
It made her wonder why the realm had never attacked the mainland before. What had kept them away for a thousand years when they could so easily wipe out any other army of Ethis? Why had the one realm built for war never once waged it? Her thoughts were loud and many as they danced around her head to the tune of panic that still bubbled and brimmed inside her.
The Goddess had saved her.
Arielle had saved her.
Theodan saved you. Again.
Why? For what purpose did she live still?
At least now she knew the Leoth was no loyal and devoted servant of the Zybar. He could barely hide his disregard. It dripped from his tongue with every word he spoke. This is not the kind of war Leoth fights. Whether this meant his mind could be turned against them, she did not know. Whether it meant he would switch allegiance and fight a war against the tyrant of Zybar to save Azura she did not know. But his gracious treatment of Arielle was curious. And his open revulsion to Zybar's war caused a small glimmer of optimism to flicker dimly against the rot of hopelessness inside her.
However as quick as it glowed, it was quickly engulfed by darkness, and guilt, the back of Fara's eyes burning from the threat of tears, the burn of knowing that Arielle's sacrifice had been based on another falsehood. Oh, of course, you are Galyn's wife, but you're also my daughter Fara, and oh how I have so longed for a daughter. Fara had stolen Galyn's love. True she had stolen it to stay alive, as a common thief might steal a loaf of bread. But she had not earned it. No kind of reparation would make up for what she had taken from Azura.
And even if she could, somehow make it back to Valdr, and even if she could somehow compel him to command his armies to fight against Zybar, what would it achieve? Azura's heir was dead. Arielle would soon be dead also. Valdr would be a better ruler than Torrik, she had to believe that. But there were not oceans of disparity between them, both so driven by greed and power and a bitterness over that which they were not and that which they had not. Neither would be kind to the people of Azura.
That left any of the ruling families left alive, or military rule. The mountain and sea tribes expelled by Sylvan could take control of the realm until new rulers were chosen among the noble families, but which option would restore Azura to her what she had been? Who would best give her back what had been lost to her? Her beauty and her grace, her city of gold, her love and laughter. The seed of hopelessness which had opened up within her began to grow, a weed sprouting, rot spreading, a plague within her.
