Marked By The Lowborn Demon

Staring at the vanity before her, she let out a deep breath, trying to calm her raging nerves.

"Just go, ask him any last words he has, decapitate."

She chanted over and over until her eyes steeled, her jaws tight and her fists clenched.

She stood straight, her shoulders squared as she turned around and marched out, clothed in full royal body armour.

The Royal Crest sitting brightly against the gold-plated armour. That was what set her apart from the guards. Her armour was made from solid gold, prepared by the best Goldsmith in the kingdom of Velmoria.

Rumor had it that the gods themselves had handed him his tools.

The Old Gods, as they were called. The Old Gods of Thryndranlis.

She walked through the dimly lit hallways, passing a few soldiers on her way. Her cold eyes, and tough exterior sent most demons running. Including those who were royals, like her sisters.

Passing by the throne room, her shoulders stiffened harder when she heard her father's voice drawled out her name. Her heart thudded, skipping beats as she headed inside.

"Father."

Posture stiff as she barely gazed at the high ranking demon before her. She looked nothing like him, with her yellow hair, bottle green eyes, and skin like cocoa, a striking difference from his black skin, red eyes and blonde hair.

"Where to?"

He knew. Of course he knew. He just had to ask. To remind her never to be a failure. She knew better too, than to be a failure, when her sisters and brother were rooting for it.

"The Field of Dust."

The Field of Dust was a place for execution. After execution, they would leave the corpse of the being to rot, as a reminder of what happened to anyone who crossed them.

From her peripheral vision, she saw her mother roll her eyes and turn away.

The woman who she mirrored. Just physical features though. And her mother hated it.

"Go well. Be careful. He is not one to be careless around."

"I have never gone and failed, My King."

Her words tasted bitter in her mouth.

"This one is different." He repeated.

Her eyes flicked slightly.

Different meant risk. Risk meant weakness and she refuses both.

"I will not fail."

Her mother finally spoke, not looking at her.

"Go then."

Kaelyth's chest tightened but she buried it immediately.

Then her mother added quietly, almost absentmindedly.

"And don't embarrass us."

Kaelyth paused and for a fraction of a second, something inside her cracked open but closed again.

She turned and bowed slightly.

"My Queen."

"It is "Mother" to you, you silly thing." The woman corrected sharply, eyes still averted.

Kaelyth hesitated, she felt something fragile rising in her chest. Then she asked, quieter than intended.

"Do you... worry?"

Her mother finally looked at her. Boredom. Contempt. Distance.

"Let them behead you, Kaelyth. I don't care."

There it was again. The harsh reminder. She was making wild assumptions. She would never see her the way she saw her sisters.

And she would never love her the same.

Kaelyth stared for a second too long. Then she nodded her head once.

"I understand."

She steeled herself and walked away. But as she left, her fingers tightened slowly at her side — something unspoken left behind in the silence.

She mounted her white stallion and galloped off to the field.

She felt her eyes water as she rode her stallion. "It's just the wind in my eye," she thought… suppressing every emotion that tried so desperately to claw its way out.

If there was one thing she learned, it was to never feel. Ever.

Emotions made one weak.

She gritted her teeth and forced her horse to go faster.

Getting to the open, barren land that looked like death had taken a walk through it, she got down, the onlookers clearing the path.

She walked slowly to the unfortunate demon standing in front of her. The condemned man stood at about six feet. His rotten teeth glinted in the sun as he drank her in.

She slowly unsheathed her sword, its tip grazing the pulsing vein on his throat.

"Long live Queen Kaelyth."

"Queen? That's what you choose to do with your last minute on Velmoria lands. Mockery won't save you."

She scoffed, stepping closer.

"Queen Kaelyth of Thryndranlis", he repeated.

The whispers from the crowd and the guards stopped. That name was not common knowledge here.

"You're the Rebel Seer," she whispered, eyes narrowed.

"One of them." He corrected.

"Where are your kind?"

"Why? So you can behead the rest?"

She couldn't understand why he was grinning. His bright green eyes that reminded her so much about her. It wasn't the colour. It was the lack of fear, the slight glint of challenge, that swirled in them.

"Do not look him in the eye."

The voice came from behind her.

Her gaze followed the voice to a guard standing beside her. His voice was ethereal. Like rumbling earth.

Focus on the task Kaelyth! She scolded herself.

He looked vaguely familiar. Not because he was a guard. No. Like she knew him.

"Oh dear queen. Live long." The demon repeated.

"What are you talking about?"

"You too, Great King." He said to the guard beside her.

Before she could question it, the man in front of her moved. Chaos erupted and everything changed.

He swung his arm at her. He had broken free.

How?

"Black magic," the guard said, as if knowing what she was thinking. "He was distracting you."

"That is not an explanation." Kaelyth did not take her eyes off the chaos.

The crowd had begun dispersing. The demon was free, out on a killing spree. Killing everyone on his path. Screams rose and fell in uneven waves. Blood marked his path.

Before Kaelyth could step forward, he was suddenly there. In front of her, with that stupid grin on his face.

"Sorry Queen Kaelyth. You can't bring them back. There's a reason for everything." he said lightly.

Kaelyth's eyes sharpened instantly.

"You talk too much."

He tilted his head slightly, amused.

"It's a balance," he said. "Don't break it."

He had the tip of a sword he ripped from a dead soldier's body against the pulsing vein on her neck.

The irony.

"What are you talking—" She was cut off. The demon's grin did not fade even as the blade tore through him. For a fraction of a second, there was no sound only the wet certainty of impact.

Then blood erupted forward. It splashed across Kaelyth's face.

His limp body fell to the ground and her eyes widened slowly. She lifted her hand slightly, brushing the blood on her cheek, as if confirming it was real.

Then she turned. Behind her stood a figure. He was quiet, controlled and watching her.

Kaelyth's expression hardened again as instinct took over.

She opened her mouth to speak, ready to yell at him for helping when the ground shifted, light bent and the sounds disappeared.

When her senses returned, the world had changed. It was cold and damp. There was faint smell of earth and ash.

Kaelyth inhaled sharply, stepping back on instinct.

A cave.

Her fingers tightened at her side. For a moment, she did not speak. She scanned the space, listening for any threats or movement.

Then her eyes snapped back to him.

"How did you bring me here?"

"Magic," he replied sarcastically, her eyes widened.

She recovered, eyes hardening once again.

"You're the outcast of Thryndranlis."

She watched him clench his fists, jaws flexing as he let out a sigh through his nose.

There were two of them. A male and a female.

The Outcasts, as they were called. Very different from the other three kingdoms in looks and height.

While the tallest of the three kingdoms were eight feet, they were over nine.

Characterised by their white skin, hair whiter than snow, eyes like obsidian, they stood out greatly.

Except, he had eyes so grey, they looked like a brewing storm.

"Portraits last better Princess," he drawled with a smirk.

The audacity.

"I can have you beheaded!" She growled.

She had already sniffed him out. A Fallow.

"For saving you? Now, that's not how a leader is supposed to behave."

"It's my word against yours, Fallow."

She watched as his eyes steeled, he stood impossibly straighter.

Before any of them had the chance to react, she heard a voice that made her go rigid.

"Why does a Fallow have your kill in his hand Kaelyth?!"

"Father."

"My King."

Kaelyth did not turn immediately. When she did, her expression had already reset into control.

"Father I-I can explain."

"What do you possibly have to say, sister?"

Her brother, Crown Prince Daryon retorted with a smile on his face. They were here to prove how inefficient she was.

He was here to prove how much of a failure she was.

That she was really to be married off, just like her sisters. Just like they had been training them for, since birth.

There was a rumor that circulated in Velmoria, and other kingdoms. She killed every noble demon who asked for her hand in marriage.

She was not denying it, but it wasn't entirely true either. Well, most of it. Some were just unfortunate, that's what she called them. The Unfortunates.

"Kaelyth!" her father shouted her name.

Kaelyth snapped back into focus.

"Yes, father."

"Day dreaming is now the new hobby?"

"No, father."

"Then be present when I'm speaking to you!"

"Yes, father."

Silence tightened again.

Then his gaze shifted to him. The Fallow and the decapitated head in his hand.

Kaelyth felt her stomach drop slightly before she could stop it.

Her father's voice lowered.

"Why does he have his head in his hand? Did

he kill him for you?"

The words landed like judgment already made.

Her eyes widened. Her heart raced as bile rose up her throat.

And the cave, for the first time since it appeared, felt too small to hold what was about to happen.