Prologue 0.2

How this works is I divide each chapter into a certain amount of sections depending on how many Mondays there are in a month. This means that there will be four to five chapters released each month. Well, starting in November. Again, enjoy!

With dizzy vision, he woke up in the same cell, the same chains on his wrists. The closest thing to a smile peeled on his lips. He had lived. But at what price? He had said he would willingly give his medallion to Una. Would she be able to take it now, even though he never meant it truthfully?

He breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. His back had never hurt more. Without any new scars to heal, he spent all his magic on healing his back. The pain eased just enough for his quick breath to decrease in speed.

This time, there were no heels that clicked up to the door. They were the hard soles of trained professional guards. Even though he recently had a near-death incident, they were still carrying out the plan. Rylan was going to meet Avellia.

The door creaked open, much louder than Una ever opened it. One guard pulled the lever, and the chains lowered down, relieving the soreness in his arms. Another pair of guards entered, one carrying a torch. Rylan squinted at the brightness. Una had magic, she could see in the dark. These men had no such luxury. Rylan himself hadn't seen any form of light since he had been thrown into this cell. Seeing the fire blaze made his eyes burn. He closed them.

"Alright," said the tallest of the group of four. "Let's get you ready to see the future queen."

Future queen? What was Avellia planning? One of the guards pulled out a knife and grabbed his shaggy hair. It had been growing since he was fourteen, he hadn't planned to ever cut it again. As the guard went to hack off the first greasy strand of hair, another guard stopped him.

"Leave that to the woman. It is her royal highness, after all." Nodding grimly, he stashed his knife away. This was his chance. Rylan was extremely weak, yet it didn't stop him from punching the guard with the torch in the face. The flame fell, and Rylan used a little of his magic to put out the flame.

The world was covered in darkness. At least for the men. Rylan could still see them, as they scrambled for the torch. Before any of them got close to its positioning, Rylan grabbed the torch from the ground.

Next, he sent sparks from out of his hands directed at his chains, giving the men momentary light. Spots danced across his gaze. One chain broke free, then another. He took his first step without the chains and got dizzy. He ran towards the door. He had just reached for the handle when he passed out.

It was a short moment of darkness, as the guard took out a piece rope and bound his hands when he opened his eyes. The guards hauled him to his feet, and Rylan got dizzy again. He fell to his knees, trying to ignore the dancing wildfires in his eyes. The torch had been relit, and Rylan felt too weak to try and fight again.

"He's off balance," the guard with the torch said. "I told you we should've brought the stretcher." The buffest guard grabbed him by the stomach and swung him over his shoulder. Rylan heaved, letting the little food he was given the previous day spew onto his uniform. The guard either didn't notice it or didn't give Rylan the satisfaction of becoming angry.

About thirty steps into the hallway lit by the torch the guards blindfolded him. Rylan was so nauseated that even if they told him the precise directions to escape into the light, he would not remember them.

The walk for the guards was long and tedious. Had Rylan not been starved, he would've thrown up much more. Instead, he felt his rolling stomach gurgle with hunger. A stale piece of bread every three days with a cup of water was never enough to satisfy him.

At long last the tunnel grew brighter. Rylan hadn't felt any turns. Were they just walking straight? The light grew unbearably bright, and Rylan whimpered at the pain his eyes were feeling.

They set him down, and Rylan fell to the floor. The carpeted floor. Rylan hadn't felt warm since that fateful night. They took the blindfold off his face and unbound his hands. Rylan stared in wonder at the huge room before him. Red carpet was everywhere, maids roaming around like a market. A guard turned to one of the many maids dressed in red and pointed to Rylan. Nodding in understanding, she took hold of his wrist and dragged him along, two of the guards following at a distance.

They went pass many rooms before she drew a key and inserted it into a door. She opened the door to a bathroom and said, "You have one hour. Everything that you don't complete we'll do for you."

The marble flooring was the first thing that caught his eye. The bathtub was huge, and he touched the towels with his bare hands, melting at how smooth they felt. He saw the tub was already full of steaming hot water. Rylan could scarcely wait to bathe. He was dirty, and he smelled awful. How Una got the courage every day to kiss him he would never know.

After the nicest bath Rylan could remember, he changed into the new clothes some maidens had left out for him. They were made from the finest silk. When he put on the shirt, he was surprised at how uncomfortable it was. His previous shirt had torn to ruins after the first week in the prison.

Taking a towel, Rylan dried his hair, his curly long hair. Setting the towel down, he cautiously took a step toward the mirror. He glanced in it, but quickly looked away, not wanting to see more.

The first thing that popped into his mind was his sallow cheeks and hollowed out eyes. He was always told his eyes were eccentric, but to see them so dead and lifeless scared him. Getting up the courage to look in the mirror again, he took off the new shirt and examined his back.

Rylan saw the bloody mass and felt self-pity. His back was so red, so raw. He could even see where the sword blade had cut his back. Before he could examine further, he heard the key rattle in the door and Rylan hurriedly put his shirt back on, covering his scars.

Maids poured in and quickly shoved him into a chair. First, they took a razor and shaved his face. Right after that they grabbed the scissors and started on his hair. Thirty minutes passed, and Rylan saw all the locks of hair fall to the floor. There were so many.

While the maids were cutting his hair, they filed his nails and scrubbed his feet. He was getting the royal treatment.

When they were done after an hour of hard, dedicated work, Rylan saw the finishing product. His hair was sheared close enough to his head that his hair just had a slight curl to it, and only on the top of his head. His eyes were still dull, and his face was still incredibly pale. But it was an improvement.

Now done with making Rylan presentable, they took his hands, which were cut with dried blood from the endless manacles on his wrists and bound them. They proceeded with the cloth they used to blindfold him and turned it into a gag.

The maids made him stand up, and Rylan was pleased that he didn't topple over. They led him to the main chamber. Guards were posted at all the entrances, their faces unseeing.

The maids bowed to the person who was obviously the captain. Returning the bow, he opened the doors in a wide gesture, and the throne room was revealed.