*Trigger Warning: This book covers strong emotions, forced behavior, and tough choices. If you are easily offended, or in a bad mental state, please halt before reading. I desire for readers to enjoy what I write, but my goal is to help open your e...
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A GRAND CELEBRATION had just begun in the great hall of Castle Nice. The castle resided by the coast and was the center of trade for the small agricultural kingdom of Charming. Today, the great hall had been cleared of the market stalls and cleaned from top to bottom. The expansive space was then decorated with festive banners, newly fashioned rugs, and elaborately carved furniture. All had been set up hastily about the room, for the last-minute festivities.
A strange magical illness had recently ravaged the entire realm for several years. Half of their modest kingdom, alone, had died from it. This illness had spread quickly throughout the realm, and like a savage beast laying waste, it took all the life it could take. The cure had come in the form of an costly magical tonic, which needed to be made from extremely rare ingredients. The lesser kings and lords, of the High King's realm, were forced to scrounge and sacrifice all of their money and resources in exchange for the items to be found and collected. The High King enslaved any mage, witch, and warlock he could collect, to mass produce this tonic. This created tension between the High King and all magic users, and started the fires of a rebellion.
"Here's a pretty little kitty-kitty," A drunken civilian called out to a feminine figure, who sat at table in a dark corner, alone. She hissed at him. The stranger jumped back a little, and shook his head. "Bah, you're not even real," he huffed, and stumbled away to rejoin the festivities on the dance floor.
The loud noises of drunken merriment surrounded the female, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. She wore a dark grey cloak, that hid most of her body. A quick look at her face showed that she was not an ordinary human; but a rare hybrid of species called Catfolk. Everyone in the great hall, but her, was in an uproar of laughter, song, and dance. The sheer volume of the room was almost deafening to her sensitive cat-ears.
"Idiot," Malice Clawfyre scoffed under her breath. Watching the display the humans around her put on, was making her stomach turn. She leaned forward to grab her drink from the table in front of her, and took a big swig of the cheaply made ale. Malice had always been known to sulk somewhere by herself when those around her were happy, but on this particular occasion, she had told herself that she was justified for her foul mood. She knew that everyone was pretending to be happy, they just had to be.
"Oh sure, cram all of these bodies you can into one space," she angrily whispered to herself. The High King's elite team of clerics and healers had not even officially confirmed the end to the epidemic, it was only a very popular rumor going around the realm, saying that it had ended.
Malice took another swig of gritty ale from the dirty mug in her hand and grimaced as she licked around her lips and the long white whiskers that protruded from above them. She hated the taste of alcohol but she needed to quiet the voices in her head and those coming from the celebrations happening around her. She reached into a pouch that was tied to her leather belt around her waist, and pulled out a tiny pink vial.
