Being thrown to the wolves is a death sentence.
Adalia knows that all too well, since she witnessed her own father being slaughtered in that same unmerciful way.
Living life as a meek slave in a kingdom full of royals, Adalia has no rights and is tr...
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A cold wind blows in the land known as Winterfest. The frigid wind covers the land in its bitter breath and tickles the dark, naked tree's branches, causing them to whisper delicately with one another.
The sky is suffocated by thick, dark grey clouds that promise a coming snowstorm. The land is blanketed in darkness, and at times, it seems the sun is too frozen to shine as it rarely makes an appearance.
The land is vast and is mainly ruled by farmland that stretches on for miles. Frozen forests surround the rural land, caging the town in their icicle-like branches. It is said the trees guard the city with their mighty branches, protecting the blessed town from the outside world.
But Winterfest is anything but blessed. Those who are unfortunate to be born on the farms are cursed to work their entire lives as a farmer. It is a cruel system of humanity.
They are the lowest of the low, the bottom of the pecking order.
They get taken advantage of, and most people born as a farmer die before they hit the age of thirty. Disease is rampant and it is nearly impossible to grow any food on land that is frozen most of the year and is as infertile as a mule.
Half of the food that is grown successfully, is taken by the authorities for the royals.
Because somewhere among the lands sick with poverty is the castle that sits on a hill. It is made of stone carved from the snow-capped cliffs that frame the landscape. The castle looks haunting and dark for all who lay eyes on it.
This castle thrives on the earnings of the villagers and farmers. It sucks the life out of its own society and lives in ignorance of the world that goes on around them. The King and Queen take from their own people who keep them alive.
They are slowly killing off their people, and they don't even realize it. They probably wouldn't care, either. But without them, the King and Queen are nothing.
They are foolish. Because surely, they cannot reign over a city full of the dead.
In the eyes of the innocent, agony plays. Agony plays with fear and they dance together with grace and harmony.
Because in the eyes of the innocent, a reflection is seen. A reflection of what life is like in the life of a mere peasant. A reflection of what life is like as a slave. A reflection of what life is like when you work so hard, yet earn nothing and suffer.
The eyes belong to a young girl at the tender age of eighteen years old. She sits in the windowsill of the castle's slave quarters and watches as snow falls on the dreary landscape again, suffocating the life that wishes to grow underneath its pure, frozen blanket.
Both she and her mother were deemed useless by the farming community and sold like used cattle as a pair to the royal family.
She curls into herself so that she is resting her chin on her knees and she hugs herself. This is the only form of comfort she knows, her mother has been very stern with her as not to become too attached to others.
