THE FAIRY HE WAS MEANT TO DESTROY

‎The mirror in El Lucien's chamber showed his reflection perfectly. He has been ruling the ancient world with an iron fist for centuries, and his appearance had never changed. ‎ ‎But today, something seemed to be wrong. ‎El Lucien's lifted his left hand slowly. On his wrist, just below where his sleeve ended, the skin was different. It looked ancient, wrinkled , and paper thin, like the skin of a corpse left in the sun for months. ‎"No," Lucien whispered. "No, no, no." ‎He tore off his sleeve and stared at his hand in horror. His hand was decaying, and the decay has spread from his wrist up to his forearm in thin, creeping lines. ‎It doesn't hurt. That was the worst part. It just felt cold, like death itself was slowly getting to him. ‎Lucien would turn one thousand years old in a few moons. ‎ ‎An ancient witch queen cursed him about a hundred years ago just before he murdered her in cold blood. She was very powerful and filled with rage. ‎"You believe you are immortal and will live forever," she had hissed. "You believe you're untouchable. But I'm laying a powerful curse on you now. You will not live past one thousand years. Before your thousandth birthday, your body will decay, and you will die a slow, painful death. No one will be able to save you. No one." She laughed cruelly as she cut her wrist and sealed the curse with her blood on a fire ritual. It was right at that moment that Lucien ripped her heart out. ‎ ‎El Lucien never believed the curse would become reality. ‎But it was here now. ‎Lucien threw on a black robe and stormed through his castle. All the servants scattered at the sight of him because they knew never to get on his way. ‎"Summon every witch in this kingdom to come to my castle," Lucien commanded the guards the moment he got to his chambers. "Now! Or I will hunt all of them and burn them down." ‎The guards didn't hesitate, and went to bring most of the powerful witches immediately. ‎About an hour later, Lucien's chamber was filled with the witches. ‎"I want the curse broken," El Lucien said, his voice low and dangerous. He held up his hand and showed the witches his decaying flesh. "Today!" ‎ ‎The witches exchanged scared glances. An older witch, the current witch queen named Morgana, stepped forward. ‎"My King," She said carefully. "The curse was placed on you by the powerful dead ancient witch queen. It cannot simply be broken. She wove dark magic into the—" ‎"I don't care how powerful she was!" El Lucien interrupted, his eyes turned red, and shadows gathered around him like living things. "She's dead, and so, her curse should be dead also. You witches must find a way to break this curse today, or I will make sure I kill every single one of your kind before I decay completely. Including the young witches." ‎It was not a threat. It was a promise. ‎ ‎The witches immediately joined their powers and worked frantically through the night. ‎Lucien watched from his throne as they performed ritual after ritual, his eyes occasionally catching an old witch in the back, Elora, the eldest among the witches who's muttering something under her breath and searching through ancient scrolls. ‎They burned herbs and chanted in ancient language. They drew ancient symbols on the floor in blood and bone dusts. ‎The witches summoned their dead witches spirits and questioned them. They created potions that glowed with unnatural light. ‎By dawn, nothing had worked. They still hadn't find the cure to the curse. ‎"Again," Lucien commanded. His decay was spreading. It had reached his shoulders and was creeping towards his chest like a disease. ‎ ‎Morgana, the current witch queen, stepped forward again. This time, her face was pale with fear. ‎"My King," she said quietly, "I'm sorry, but we can not break it." ‎Lucien rose from his throne, the shadows around him exploded outward. He casually lifted one hand and three witches suddenly screamed, flew into the wall and fell down. ‎"What do you mean you can not break it?" Lucien's voice was filled with pure rage now. "You are the current witch queen and all of you here are the most powerful witches in this kingdom. There must be a way." ‎"There is not," Morgana said, with her voice trembling with fear. ‎"The witch queen who cursed you was unlike other witches. She was ancient, and powerful beyond measure. She invested all her powers into that curse before you killed her. When you killed her, the curse does not die with her. It became even more powerful. It became eternal." ‎"Eternal," Lucien repeated, the word tasted like poison to him. ‎"Yes, she made sure of it," the eldest witch, Elora said. "The witch cursed you using a forbidden spell that no magic in this world can undo. No ritual can destroy it, and no potion can cure it." ‎ ‎Lucien felt something cold settle in his chest. It wasn't the decay that was eating his body. It was fear, genuine fear. ‎He curled his fingers into a fist, and his breaths began coming out unsteady. ‎For the first time in nine hundred and ninety nine years, El Lucien was scared. Scared of death. ‎ ‎"That means I'm going to die," El Lucien said flatly. ‎"Yes," Morgana confirmed. "You will decay slowly. It will weaken your strength and take several months. But yes, you will eventually die." ‎Lucien stood from his throne in silence. The shadows around him grew darker and colder. ‎"If I must die, then every one of your kind must die with me." ‎He was about to rip all the witches hearts out, when a voice suddenly stopped him. ‎ ‎"WAIT!" An elderly voice echoed across the chamber. Everyone turned. ‎The eldest witch, Elora stepped forward. She was leaning on a wooden staff. Unlike the others, she was not shaking in fear. ‎"There may be a cure to the curse..." She turned to the witch queen. "It's something that the ancient witch queen who cursed you did not account for." ‎"Explain." Lucien commanded. ‎"There's an old texts that speak of cure to ancient curses in riddles and broken sentences." The old witch said quickly, her face blooming with hope. "It speaks of a cure that is not magic. It's something pure. Something the witch queen could never have predicted. Something believed to no longer exist." ‎"What is it?" Lucien demanded. "Tell me what the cure is." ‎"The cure doesn't exist in this world." ‎ ‎