Chronicles of Aetheria

One could begin with the tumultuous sea of swirling crimson clouds or the golden sun reflecting on the blue ocean. One might even begin with the rhythmic whisper of waves retreating and advancing.

He lay on the cold, wet sand, his mind filled with various thoughts and his eyes watery.

He slowly sat up, his head pounding and his body aching. Consciousness fully gripped him, and he then looked around.

"Where am I?" he couldn't help but ponder. He looked up just to see the golden sun almost vanishing from the crimson sky. It didn't look like anything he was familiar with.

He struggled to get to his feet, but before he could stand upright, the waves transferred energy to the ocean, pulling him back to the wet sand.

He groaned heavily and started crawling forward, realizing the sand was different from what he was used to. The sand was white and crystal clear; if one looked closely, one could even see his reflection in it.

But what was he used to?

The more he gazed at the sand, the less he remembered, so he gave up trying to recall and crawled up as swiftly as possible before the waves continued their madness.

As soon as he got far away from the ocean, he sat up with his legs crossed, staring at the ocean. The last thing he recalled was a force pushing him through the middle of the ocean. He had no idea how he ended up here.

The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. He sighed heavily and rubbed his palms together as the cold breeze sent chills down his spine.

He had no shirt on, and his black trousers were wet, leaving his body exposed to the cold.

"I need fire," his voice came almost like a whisper as he tilted his neck, observing his surroundings.

Behind him was a dense forest with large trees standing tall and proud. He was contemplating whether to enter the forest, which felt like a terrible idea, or stay out here, dealing with the cold, when he saw smoke rising between the tall trees.

The cold breeze hit him hard once again, and he didn't think twice before limping into the forest. His feet were sore, and each step he took felt like he was carrying a heavy load.

Slowly and steadily, he arrived at a clearing where he had sensed smoke. There was indeed a fire with a stick forming a cross above it.

He didn't just sit near the fireplace; he brought down the roasted meat from the cross and started devouring it like crazy. He wasn't even bothered by the heat.

The only thing on his mind was that the hot meat would erase the cold from his body. He wasn't concerned about the owner of the meat or the person who set the fire.

Suddenly, a rustling sound from the underbrush broke the silence. The meat hung in his mouth as he quickly jolted up. It then dawned on him that he had been eating mysterious meat and sitting beside a mysterious fire.

His heart pounded heavily as two grotesque figures emerged from the shadows, their features a nightmarish blend of man and beast. They stood before him with eyes glowing dangerously. He remained rooted in his spot, not knowing what to do.

Fear couldn't describe how he felt. He couldn't say if he had seen these creatures before because he couldn't recall anything. But whatever these creatures were, they were up to no good.

"I... I can explain," he stuttered, thinking that would ease the tension in the air. The duo just stood there, gazing directly at him. Two horns were fixed to their foreheads, and they had two sets of teeth that stopped directly below their noses.

He lost his voice immediately upon seeing how terrifying they looked. The only thing on his mind was to run.

He hadn't taken three steps when a heavy fist crashed on his back, causing the floor to rise up and pull him into a warm embrace.

His reality changed instantly as a fragment of memory pierced through his brain. His vision blurred, and he passed out.

The creatures looked at each other, and one of them approached the unconscious boy.

"It's a black food," the creature announced, picking the boy up with one hand, causing the body to dangle.

"Throw it away. It might be poison or a trap from those stupid Elves," the other replied, looking uninterested. "Besides, we just finished devouring the owner of the meat," he added, heading back into the forest.

"I'll take it to the village; it might fetch a fortune," the first creature concluded, following his companion with the unconscious boy dangling in his hand.

They arrived at an open space where a carriage was parked beside the road with two other creatures securing it.

"Let's continue our journey so that we'll arrive before nightfall."

The creature opened the only door in the carriage, constructed with iron, and threw the unconscious boy inside. He gnashed his teeth as his gaze met with that of their captive. Her blue eyes glowed malevolently in the dark.

"Enjoy your ride... Elven," he said sarcastically. His ear twitched to the sound of chains. She was coming closer, so he quickly shut the door, and the carriage started moving instantly.

"Son of a bitch," she cursed, banging hard on the roof of the carriage, but it was futile. The carriage was so strong that she would only end up hurting herself.

Realizing this, she slumped heavily on the floor of the carriage, expecting a heavy impact but instead landing on soft skin, followed by a loud groan.

She quickly shifted away, her chains dangling as she rested her back on the wall while the boy slowly sat up, feeling pain all over his body.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot the Trollocs brought another prisoner."

"Prisoner? Trollocs?" the boy questioned, looking so confused. The way he sounded caused the girl to look directly at him.

"Aargh!" he cried out when he realized her eyes were shining blue.

"Aargh, what?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"Nothing. Everything's fine," he assured, drawing himself back to rest his back. Her eyes were still fixed on his face.

"No, it's not," he said again before she could utter a word. "Why am I being imprisoned by those gruesome creatures, and where are they..." He couldn't complete his speech as the carriage struck a stone, causing them to collide.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, holding her arms while staring directly into her eyes. She could hear the sound of sympathy in his voice.

"I'm fine," she replied slowly, still gazing at him. His scent, his tone-they were all strange. She couldn't see him clearly due to the darkness of the carriage.

His cold hands still pressed her arms, and that was when she realized he wasn't chained.

"Can you break this chain?" she asked, stretching out her hands.

"I'm not a blacksmith. How am I supposed to break the chain?" the boy replied, looking at her hands.

"Can't you use magic or something?" she said again while he looked at her confusingly. "Like a skill," she added, realizing he was lost.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I don't know."

She scoffed, trying to suppress her anger. "Are you playing with me now?"

"I don't even know you. How can I be playing with a lady I found in a carriage with eyes that shone-"

She didn't let him complete his statement, giving him an uppercut. He coughed out blood instantly and held his chest.

The bone he had mistakenly swallowed was stuck in his throat, causing water to stream from his eyes. He forced his fingers into his throat and dragged the bone out.

"You want another?" she asked, folding her fists, but he shook his head.

"No need for another," he said, showing her the bone.

The creatures, now recognized as Trollocs, suddenly stopped following their leader's movements.

"Let's search for treasure. Taitrum, Neptrum, watch the carriage," one of the Trollocs ordered, spreading out with two others, leaving behind Taitrum and Neptrum, the one who captured the boy.

Within minutes, they heard a loud bang in the carriage. They ignored it, but the bang came again, louder. Neptrum signaled his companion to check it out.

He marched to the back of the carriage and forcefully opened the door. Since it was dark, he had to peep inside. His eyes widened when they met the blue eyes of the Elven lady. She wrapped her hands around his left horn, broke it effortlessly, and stabbed it into his right eye before he could pull his head out.

He screamed loudly, green blood flowing from his eye. His screams alerted Neptrum, who rushed to the back, seeing Taitrum struggling with the horn in his eye.

Neptrum reached into the carriage and forcefully dragged out an object. It turned out to be a chain used to lock the Elf's hands and legs.

"They've escaped," he gnashed his teeth and sprinted into the forest immediately, while Taitrum followed, still struggling with the horn.

"I should've listened to him," he thought, recalling their leader's warning about the boy.

"If you continue this way, the Trollocs will catch up with us," the blue-eyed lady told the boy as he stopped to catch his breath.

"Oh, Lady Blue Eyes. I'm so tired. Let's take a nap."

"A nap? What does that mean?"

That was when the boy realized he didn't know the meaning of what he had just said.

Instead of replying, he jumped up and started running again, trying to keep up with the lady's pace.

"You're too fast!" he screamed, urging her to slow down, but she didn't.

She had picked up the scent of the Trollocs. They were drawing nearer with each passing moment. She couldn't afford to delay because of a boy she just met in the carriage. Though he was the reason they weren't still prisoners, her survival instincts overrode any gratitude she felt.

"I'm talking to you, Lady Blue Eyes," he said again, bringing her mind back to the present.

She tilted her neck backward, her gaze meeting his. It was dark, but her eyes allowed her to see clearly, and the boy followed her footsteps.

"The name is Rose, not Lady Blue Eyes," she replied, then returned her gaze to the pathway, where she noticed a branch crossing the way. It was too late. Rose couldn't avoid it, and neither could the boy.

Rose fell hard on the ground, and the boy landed on top of her. They rolled until they stopped beside six rough-looking feet.

The boy was on top of her, his black eyes peering directly into her blue glowing eyes. Their noses touched, and their lips were just an inch apart. A soft moan escaped her lips as he realized his hands were resting on her chest.

"I never meant to do that," he said, quickly pulling his hands away.

"You're a dead man," Rose whispered, trying to push him off, but a foot came into contact with his back, pushing him down.

Rose's eyes widened as she felt the soft moisture of his lips on hers.

The young man's heart raced as he found himself in a compromising position with Rose. He scrambled to his feet, but the weight on him was too much, causing him to accidentally force his tongue into her mouth.

Another moan escaped her lips, which infuriated one of the Trollocs. The creature withdrew his foot from the boy's back and kicked him hard in the left rib, flinging him into a nearby tree.

"Come here," the Trolloc commanded, picking Rose up by the neck. He raised her to his level and fixed his gaze on her.

"You think you can escape, huh?" he asked, choking her as she struggled to breathe.

She tried to break free, but it was futile. His grip was too strong for someone of her size. Suddenly, she paused, as if she remembered something.

This act puzzled the Trolloc, and he drew her closer to his face. Their eyes met, and her eyes shone blue.

"Kill them all," she struggled to say, and he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

'Is she out of her mind? What does she mean by killing them all?' He thought. Suddenly, his eyes also shone blue, and he dropped her roughly on the ground, turning to his allies.

Before they realized what was happening, he threw a punch that landed on the face of one of the Trollocs, causing the grotesque creature to fall flat.

The other Trolloc quickly unsheathed a dagger, but before he could use it, he was swept off the floor by the compelled Trolloc.

"What's wrong with them? Why are they fighting each other?" the young man asked as Rose helped him up, still feeling pain in his back. She glared at him thinking about his high level of stupidity.

"Should they fight us instead?" Rose retorted, and he shook his head.

"Good. Let's go." She grabbed his hand and tried to move, but two figures jumped out of the shadows.

"Where to?" asked Taitrum. Without waiting for a response, he hurled a knife at the dude, whose heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

He closed his eyes, expecting death that never came. Reopening them, he saw the knife suspended in the air inches from him.

His mouth fell open in shock. He turned to Rose, who looked serious, clearly the one who had stopped the knife. But how?

Before he could recover from his shock, she controlled the knife into her hand and flung it at Taitrum, who was charging at them.

Her throw was so accurate that it struck his other eye, causing him to collapse to the ground, coughing out green liquids.

Neptrum growled loudly and felled a tree instantly. The tree fell directly on them, but before it could crush them, the compelled Trolloc caught it.

"Phew. That was a great save." Rose heaved a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing, Stonetrum?" asked Neptrum with a confused look. He couldn't believe his leader had sided with their captives.

"I don't know," Stonetrum replied, pulling out the tree and flinging it at him.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Rose said, dragging the boy by the hand before he could object. She started running as fast as she could while the boy tried to keep up, leaving the gruesome creatures to face each other.

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The forest was so dark that not even the faintest sliver of moonlight could pierce through. The canopy of trees was so dense that the forest floor was plunged into an almost tangible blackness. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the silence was only broken by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures and the cries of the prisoners walking through this darkness. They moved in a rhythmic order, carrying a heavy log of wood over their shoulders.

It was hard to decipher what they looked like, but upon closer inspection, one could see crimson eyes piercing into the heart of this darkness.

None of the prisoners had crimson eyes, so where did the eyes come from?

They belonged to their captors, a fearsome race that moved silently, their presence barely known apart from the faint whisper of their cloaks brushing against the foliage. Their features were obscured by deep hoods, and their eyes glowed a malevolent red, piercing the darkness like twin embers.

The Reapers were known for their cruelty, capturing those unfortunate enough to cross their path and binding them together with a log of wood, a cruel parody of order and control.

The captives huddled together, their bodies trembling not just from the cold but from the sheer terror of their captors. Bound together, they could do little more than shuffle awkwardly, their movements restricted by the crude bindings. The night air was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing and the occasional muffled sob.

One of the Reapers suddenly stopped moving. He pulled out a sword from his cloak and broke a prisoner free. The prisoner had been wailing loudly and pleading to be set free.

"Thank you... thank you," he cried out and made to move.

But before he could take a step forward, his blood splashed on the faces of the other captives, and silence fell immediately.

They continued their journey through the heart of the darkness, the Reapers watching their captives closely. The prisoner who was beheaded had been number twelve.

Unbeknownst to the Reapers, he had been tied together with number eleven, thereby loosening his own binding to the wood.

Using the darkness to his advantage, the number eleven captive managed to set himself free and obscured himself in the darkness.

It didn't take long before a cry went up among the Reapers. Two of them broke out, their eyes glowing brighter as they moved in pursuit of the escapee. Their movements were swift and unnaturally graceful, a predatory elegance that belied their intent.

The escapee ran, the sounds of the forest closing in around him. He could hear the Reapers behind him, their movements disturbingly quiet but for the occasional crack of a twig or the swish of their cloaks. He pushed himself harder, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his mind focused solely on escape.

The Reapers were relentless. They navigated the forest with an ease born of familiarity, their glowing eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. They communicated with each other through eerie whispers, coordinating their hunt.

The captive's lungs burned, and his legs ached, but he couldn't afford to slow down. He knew that if he were caught, it would be a death sentence. The forest seemed to conspire against him, branches clawing at his clothes and roots tripping his feet. Yet he pressed on, driven by a primal will to survive.

In the distance, he could see a faint light-perhaps a clearing or a campsite. Hope surged within him, lending his tired limbs a burst of energy. Suddenly, darkness overshadowed this light, and the captive crashed into a hard surface.

He fell on his butt, his hands and feet numb. He raised his head and his eyes met with a pair of crimson glowing eyes. Fear gripped him instantly, he didn't expect another creature to be out here in the dark apart from the Reapers who are still behind him.

Before he could think, he felt himself being lifted off the ground.

"A wonderful meal," he heard through gnashing teeth, and his heart started pounding. He had been running from the Reapers and now had fallen into the hands of a Trolloc.

A Trolloc which just broke free from the enchantment of an Elf.

Stonetrum threw the escapee into the air and prepared to tear him apart, but a blade cut through his knee, causing him to groan in pain.

He looked up to see four crimson eyes dancing in the shadows. Gnashing his teeth angrily, he charged at the Reapers lurking in the shadows.

Meanwhile, the captive fell hard on the ground and started rolling downhill.

Stonetrum grabbed a sword from one of the Reapers and flung it, along with the Reaper, into a tree. The second Reaper launched a direct attack at Stonetrum, who countered it with his fist. He sent a destructive punch that bent the sword and pushed the Reaper backward.

The Reaper who had been flung into the tree got up angrily and dusted his cloak. Realizing this, Stonetrum quickly turned. He recalled how the Elf compelled him to kill all of his kindred. Angrily, he charged at the Reaper, launching a straight punch to his face.

"Valtrex Norazo!" the Reaper chanted, slashing his sword in the air. Stonetrum suddenly paused halfway and within seconds split into two, green blood spilling from his body.

Without wasting time, they surged forward, searching for their escapee.

Meanwhile, the captive was running as if his life depended on it. He looked back at intervals while running as fast as he could.

His legs collided with a stone for the umpteenth time, and he struggled not to fall flat but ended up going on all fours.

"Vagnar!" he heard a familiar voice and looked up, his eyes meeting blue shining eyes. He recognized those eyes instantly. Without wasting time, he got up with the help of the figure with the blue eyes.

"Lady Rose," he called out in surprise. "What are you doing out here?" he asked uneasily. She could sense the uneasiness in his voice.

"What's the matter?" Rose demanded, staring directly at Vagnar, who had once been a captive of the Reapers. He was breathing harshly.

The young man stood by the corner watching them, realizing they knew each other from their conversation.

He sensed movement behind him, but before he could turn, a hand wrapped around his mouth and nose. "Sleep!" a whispering voice commanded, and his consciousness shut down almost immediately.

Vagnar's eyes met the Reaper's, and he quickly pushed Rose away. Immediately, a blade drove into his chest, and he coughed out blood, dropping heavily to the ground.

Rose quickly got up and came face to face with the creature that had stabbed Vagnar. His crimson eyes pierced into her blue ones. "Aargh!" a gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the creature. It was a Reaper. The soldiers of the Loctrum clan. The servants of Arctic, the leader of the Loctrum clan.

The Loctrum clan were enemies of Elvarin Kingdom, the kingdom of the Elves from which she hailed. She looked back to see her companion in the hands of another Reaper. She was the only one left.

What was he going to do to her? Was he going to kill her?

While she was still contemplating what to do, she heard the voice of the Reaper and her heart skipped a beat.

"You're coming with us, My Lady."

To be continued...

Memories flooded his mind; he could hear the screams and wails of various voices. He held his head, feeling as if it might detach from his neck. The pounding was relentless as blurred visions continued. He saw himself coughing up blood and, in a flash, found himself in the middle of an ocean.

The visions cleared, and he collapsed abruptly onto the wet sand. Every part of his body ached terribly, making it impossible to move.

The sun, which had shone golden the day before, now turned crimson. The once crystal-clear sand now caused him sharp pain every second.

It was unfortunate to say, but he was now by the ocean-the same ocean he never wanted to leave. Now, he wasn't alone. He was a captive of fearsome creatures, their features visible but unrecognizable.

"Eleven," he heard one of the Grim Reapers whisper. With all his effort, he struggled to raise his head. His gaze fell on the gruesome creature. They had long, sharp nails like the talons of an eagle, and their cloaks covered every part of their bodies, including their faces.

Their faces looked unlike anything he had ever seen before-no eyes, nose, or mouth. Just dark fluids moving in a circular motion.

"Join the line," the Reaper commanded, and the young man exhaled loudly. He was the eleventh prisoner of the Reapers, the replacement of Vagnar, hence why they addressed him as Eleven. Coincidentally, his real name remained obscure to him, so he had to adapt to Eleven.

As he got to his feet, he realized his trousers had been stripped off, leaving him naked.

"Move," the Reaper whispered again, noticing his sudden pause.

"Where is my trouser, and why am I naked?" he questioned, creating a turmoil among the other captives. Who dared to question the authority of the Grim Reapers?

The young man, now known as Eleven, noticed the uproar among the captives. Before he could realize what was happening, a whip descended on his bare back, and he crashed onto the wet sand on his forelimbs and knees.

His cries pierced through the ears of Rose, who sat on a boat, blindfolded and surrounded by four Reapers. She heard his cries again and tried to remove her blindfold, but her hands were seized by a Reaper. She knew better than to confront this gruesome race, so she let go.

The pain Eleven felt was unbearable. His entire body ached, and his limbs were numb. He soon realized that the more he delayed, the more the whip descended. So, he pulled himself together and started crawling towards his fellow prisoners, who were waiting impatiently for him.

He crawled towards the first captive and tried to grab his legs for support, but the latter shifted away from him as if he were an abomination.

This act surprised Eleven; he hadn't expected such a reaction. He went to the second person, and it was the same. The third and fourth captives also shifted away from him.

He raised his head and saw them clearly. They were all naked, having humanoid figures like him but with differences. Unlike him, they were light-skinned with long ears and blue eyes, similar to Rose's, except theirs didn't shine.

Speaking of Rose, he hadn't seen her, and she wasn't in the line of captives. He struggled to get up, squinting to scan the environment. He was searching for Rose. He then saw her among the Reapers, blindfolded and sitting comfortably. Her ears were the same as the other captives'.

He overheard one of the Trollocs calling her an Elf. "Does it mean they're all Elves?" he pondered.

He advanced towards her, his manhood dangling between his legs. He hadn't taken two steps when a whip descended on his chest, causing him to collapse.

His cries filled the air as he held his chest. The sun's rays penetrated the mark on his chest, a mark drawn by the Reapers-two straight lines on his left chest, signifying he was the eleventh captive.

One of the prisoners advanced towards him, and Eleven quickly used him as support to get on his feet before another whip descended. He stood behind the captive, who had long brown hair, and held his portion of the wood.

The Reaper, who had been whipping him, bound his hands to the wood. Then, a whistle blew, and they started advancing into the ocean, heading towards the great clan of Loctrum, the clan of Arctic, the master of the Reapers.

"Are we going to pass through this ocean?" Eleven mumbled softly, but it was enough for the prisoner in front of him to hear.

"Yes, Black Boy. And from the tales I've heard, the wood must not get wet," the prisoner whispered, causing Eleven's heart to skip a beat.

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👾 **Loctrum Clan - Palace of Arctic** 👾

The Palace of Arctic was dark and filled with eerie silence. The crimson sun couldn't penetrate it. Its jagged towers reached toward the sky, clawing at the heavens like the talons of a beast. The outer walls were adorned with dark runes and ancient symbols.

Skulls of ancient creatures mounted on the walls seemed to follow every movement with their hollow eye sockets. Obsidian statues of demonic beings stood guard, their expressions frozen in eternal snarls.

At the end of this palace sat Arctic, exuding an aura of supremacy. His eyes were dark, matching his skin, which was marked with dark tattoos snaking around his muscular figure. His hands, adorned with rings of dark stone, rested on the armrests of his throne, fingers tapping rhythmically.

The throne itself was a monstrosity of blackened steel and bone, adorned with dark tattoos and glowing sigils that pulsed with life. The high back of the throne was crowned with the horns of a great beast, and the armrests were shaped like dragon claws.

Seated before him were four of his most trusted chiefs. They were discussing a matter when the door suddenly burst open, revealing a Reaper.

He walked straight to his master and bowed immediately.

"My lord, your loyal servants bring news to your palace."

"We are already aware. The soldiers have returned with the captives. They will be advancing toward the palace soon," said Ugarth, one of the chiefs present in the palace.

The Reaper rose and almost immediately went back to his knees. "My lord, the captives consist of ten Elves and one unidentified being."

"Unidentified?" another chief asked rhetorically.

"His identity remains unknown to me," said the Reaper.

There was silence for a few minutes before Lord Arctic finally spoke.

"Rise. Go lead them to the tower," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

The Reaper stood up immediately and started walking out of the palace. He suddenly stopped at the exit and bowed again.

"My lord, I sense the magical essence of a noble," he announced, forcing Lord Arctic to rise to his feet. The chiefs also rose at once.

"It's true. I can feel it," Lord Arctic said, inhaling deeply. "Let's go welcome the Elf Princess," he said to his chiefs. Without hesitation, he started heading out of the palace, sweeping the floor with his dark cloak.

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The gate of the clan opened, revealing the Reapers with their captives. Lady Rose was led through another route by two Reapers. She was still blindfolded but could see her path-one of the elves' abilities.

The eleventh captive was led through the front route, which was crowded with the natives of the Loctrum clan. They gave way for the Reapers and their captives but not without throwing stones at the prisoners.

They cursed and wailed while throwing heavy stones, making it difficult for the prisoners to move forward with the log of wood over their heads.

One of the stones hit Eleven in his manhood, causing him to fall to his knees and disrupt the line.

"Rise up, Black Boy. Rise before a whip..." The tenth captive couldn't complete his statement as a whip descended on Eleven's back.

"Aargh!" he cried out, his voice resounding in the arena, silencing everyone.

The villagers and the Reapers paused. One of the Reapers tried to whip him again but was stopped by his comrade.

Everyone watched as Eleven struggled to get on his feet with the log of wood still on his shoulder. Every part of his body was marked and dripping with blood. Black marks complemented his dark skin.

It took more than an hour before they reached the tower, an open square. They were released from the log, which was taken into the palace, and forced to kneel horizontally before the tower.

They were not alone; the Reapers were present at every corner, and the high-ranked villagers were also present.

The Loctrum clan was not vast, with a population of 300 citizens. But when it came to military power, it remained hidden, known only to their clan leader, Lord Arctic. Only he knew the number of Reapers under his control.

Speaking of the devil, Lord Arctic appeared on the tower, dark magical essence leaking from his body.

Everyone in the vicinity bowed immediately, including the Reapers.

The captives were choked by his magical essence, but Eleven's consciousness was far from this province.

The pain he felt was unbearable, and the sun was also not helping matters. It burned every part of his body.

Suddenly, Eleven looked up. At that moment, Rose was dragged forward by one of the Reapers until she stood beside Lord Arctic. The cloth covering her eyes vanished, and she saw her kindred kneeling before the tower, awaiting their fate.

"What should be their fate, Lady Rose, Princess of the Elvarin Kingdom?" The scary voice of Lord Arctic sent chills down her spine as a tear rolled from her blue eyes.

The atmosphere was thick with tension as the crowd waited for her response. The captives' breaths were shallow, their eyes wide with fear and resignation.

Rose's voice trembled, but she managed to speak, "Please, spare their lives. They are innocent."

Lord Arctic's laugh echoed throughout the courtyard, a deep, sinister sound that made everyone's blood run cold. "Innocent? These creatures are nothing but pawns in a greater game between your Father and I. Their lives are meaningless."

"Please," Rose pleaded, her voice breaking. "They have done nothing to deserve this."

Arctic's eyes narrowed. "You plead for mercy, Princess, yet you forget your place. You are a captive here, just like them. Your pleas mean nothing."

He turned to address the Reapers. "Take them to the dungeon. I'll decide their fate in due time."

The Reapers moved to comply, dragging the prisoners to their feet. Eleven struggled to stand, his body weak and battered, but the fear of another whip strike spurred him on.

Rose watched helplessly as her fellow captives were led away. She felt a profound sense of despair wash over her.

As Eleven was pulled along with the others, he caught a glimpse of Rose. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, everything seemed to pause. She recalled how he had released her from the chains, the taste of his lips on hers and hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

She already knew what their fate was. It was nothing but a death penalty.

To be continued..