Chapter 3

The Spirit Kingdom

In the pleasure district, a massive brothel is booming with activity and boisterous cheer. Gaudily decorated with expensive, bright-colored fabrics hanging from its marble pillars, warm light illuminating the paths throughout, and the sounds of music loudly playing from inside, it both stimulated and relaxed passersby. Several scarcely clothed women called out from inside, attempting to attract more visitors, who either ignored them altogether or couldn't get in fast enough. Drunk, disorderly men were passed out in the streets having been kicked out by the workers or were simply too intoxicated to make the journey home.

In front of the brothel, a man stands with his arms behind his back, a scowl etched on his face, wanting to be anywhere but in this dirty, tasteless part of the capital. Women from inside gawked at him, some making eyes that suggested their intent was far from innocent. Dimitri surmised that had he stepped in alone, they would attack him like a pack of wild animals, no doubt wanting to claw off his clothes and with them, his dignity. This was no place for a prince, he thought.

Perhaps the women could not be blamed. The Drakos family line has no shortage of good-looking men and beautiful women, and Dimitri was no exception. Standing at six feet two inches tall, he towered over many of the fumbling drunks around him. His long, straight black hair was tied in the back with a thin gold rope, the ends hanging loosely behind him. His sharp features promised danger, and his royal blue eyes seemed to drag people in with no hope of return. His eyes were adorned with long eyelashes and framed by thick brows, which were furrowed in frustration. His lean frame was wrapped snuggly in a red velvet jacket, black feathers embroidered on the chest and back area. Large black riding boots went up to his knees, black pants tucked neatly underneath. He possessed a hypnotic beauty, one that stole the heart of any woman who laid eyes upon him.

Frustration flashed across his features, his firmly clenched jaw ticking twice before he turned around, intent on getting as far from the pleasure district as possible. Before he could walk even two steps, an irritatingly jovial voice called to him from the front steps of the brothel.

"Brother! Finally, you've arrived. I was beginning to think you stood me up again in favor of that library you obsess over!" Dimitri scowled in the direction of the voice, where its owner stood waving stupidly, a lopsided grin plastered on his young face. The boy was barely old enough to frequent this part of the capital city, and judging by the excitement he oozed, it hadn't been long since he turned the legal age of seventeen. His tall, lanky figure was adorned by a silk toga and leather sandals, the traditional menswear for wealthier commoners. Unkept shaggy brown hair was spread out in all directions, his hazel eyes shining like a child who has been let loose inside a sweets shop. Dimitri stalked towards the boy, his expression a mix of tiredness and annoyance.

"Zander," he greeted the boy. "Would it have killed you to at least brush your hair? You look as deranged as you no doubt are," he complained.

The young prince snorted, placing his hands at his sides and giving his brother a pointed look. "At least I tried to fit in here. You may as well have dressed as you do at the palace with the attire you chose!"

In truth, he wasn't lying. It could be said Dimitri was overdressed for such an occasion. But, he thought, at least I don't look like a lunatic playing dress-up. In terms of personality, looks, and personal taste, the brothers were as different as night and day. Shaking his head, Dimitri followed his incessantly babbling younger brother into the brothel.

Dimitri hated places like this, only partially agreeing to come out after a month of begging and complaining on Zander's part. The building wasn't new, but from what Zander had said, new owners had purchased it three months ago, and the food, wine, service, and women were being praised throughout the capital non-stop. Zander, not one to pass up a good time, insisted they visit to see what all the fuss is about. Not much is known of the new owners, other than they are beyond wealthy and supposedly had ties to the Moon Tribe. That was the second reason Dimitri agreed to this outing.

The Moon Tribe is well-known throughout the Five Kingdoms for being powerful, wealthy, secretive, and above all, for their leader Asteria, a woman who is ruthlessly evil. Although they have no connection to any of the royal families and have seemingly no intention of jeopardizing their rule, they are notorious for making sure others didn't threaten their tribe or their interests. The question is, what ARE their interests? Several prominent noble families have disappeared in the past five years since they emerged, and although uncertain, it is suspected the Moon Tribe is to blame. But if so, why? Dimitri wanted to find out and is hoping this brothel may hold some clues.

Upon entering, they were welcomed by a swarm of women and guided to a private table on the lower level, shrouded in colorful fabric so as to give a bit of privacy to whoever should sit there. Music flowed loudly throughout the venue, women dancing and entertaining guests at every corner. Superior-grade wine was promptly served to the brothers, and fruits, roasted lamb, and sweets placed in expensive porcelain dishes were set out before them in quick succession. A servant stood a few feet away, ready to meet any demands they might have. Zander was right, thought Dimitri. The service here is outstanding. It is no wonder the place gained popularity in such a short amount of time. As he surveyed the surroundings hoping to find anything peculiar, the music changed suddenly. Low, rhythmic drumming started from all four corners of the main floor, growing louder as purple fabric was released from the second-floor hallways, cascading down to the first and encircling a stage that was protruding from the ground in a grandiose fashion. Seemingly out of thin air, a woman appeared in the center of the stage. She wore a purple belly dancer's costume, small silver bells hanging from her waist, bouncing around as she moved and creating a dramatic contrast to the low beat of the drums. Her thick dark hair was partially tied up, the ends hanging down her back in waves. A silver mask embedded with amethysts and diamonds covered her face, only leaving her eyes visible to the audience, looking coldly at the patrons as if they were as insignificant as flies. She exuded a beauty that intimidated and entranced people simultaneously, but if she knew it, she didn't let it show.

As Dimitri watched from his table, just as transfixed as everyone else, he finally noticed something peculiar. Her eyes. Rather than having normal colored irises like everyone else, hers instead were a blazing shade of impossible purple. Upon closer inspection, Dimitri noticed a hint of silver-gray surrounding her pupils too, a color he found familiar but foreign all at the same time. As the woman began to dance, swaying and shaking in time with the beat, Dimitri realized where he had seen that shade of gray irises before. It had been years, but there are always things (or rather people) in this world that you cannot forget. Even Dimitri, cold and detached as he may seem, had someone like that. Perhaps it had been his youthful age at the time, the years they spent together during childhood, or the promises they had made in the name of "love," but Dimitri wouldn't (or rather couldn't) forget her. A woman who had managed to own his heart and soul completely, there had only been one, and she was dead. No one was like her in this world, he was sure. So why did this dancer in front of him now invoke a feeling of recognition only she could bring?