Chapter One
Alex's POV
I stood frozen in the middle of a crowd that wanted me dead. The courtyard pressed in on me, a sea of faces that felt like a physical weight against my ribs. They were hungry—people who had finished their morning tea and come specifically to watch a boy’s life spill into the dirt. Every pair of eyes judged me. They were waiting for the spray of red as if it were a holiday.
I closed my eyes, stealing one last second of quiet. I wanted to remember the smell of rain or the feel of sunlight, but the world refused me.
“Kill him!” a merchant screamed.
“Slice his neck!” a woman cheered, lifting her child for a better view.
“End the useless thing!”
*Useless.* That word had clung to me all my life. It was more than a word—it was a brand burned into my skin. No matter what I did, how many floors I scrubbed, or how many beatings I took, "useless" was all anyone ever saw. To them, I wasn’t human. I was a broken tool.
“Execute him now,” Kael said coldly. “And bring his head to my father.”
His voice cut through the noise like a winter wind. He sounded like a prince ordering a plate of fruit rather than a man deciding life or death. I squinted against the harsh light at Kael; he stood in polished armor, bored and entertained. Slowly, I lowered my head. What else could I do?
The guard stepped forward. Steel rasped against leather. The executioner’s sword felt heavy even before it touched me. My heart pounded like a trapped bird. I didn’t want to die in the dirt, forgotten as nothing.
Then, a voice:
“Wait.”
Above, on the balcony. King Leo. My eyes snapped up. A spark of hope lit inside me—a foolish, fragile thing. Did he remember me? Did he value me enough to save me?
The guards untied my wrists, letting the ropes fall away in red welts. My numb arms dropped as they shoved me forward. My feet hit the cold stone with a jarring thud.
I knew these slabs. Last winter, after a traitor’s execution, I’d spent six hours scrubbing this very spot while guards laughed behind me, kicking my bucket over to watch me start again. The memory of the lye stung my skin.
Knees threatening to buckle, I locked my legs. I would not collapse for them.
“Dad… what did you just say?” Kael’s calm edge was gone. He strode forward, his boots clicking sharply. Irritation burned in his eyes, twisting his handsome face into something ugly.
“Do you think I will obey that?” He grabbed my chin, forcing my head upward. “Don’t start dreaming about freedom,” he muttered, smelling of wine. “You useless thing. I still don’t know why my father released you, but it isn't a gift.”
He shoved me away. The hope inside me shattered. The King hadn’t saved me—he’d simply found a way to make my death more entertaining.
“I want you to duel my son.”
King Leo’s casual words, issued with a glass of red wine in hand, hit me like a hammer. My mind blanked. Kael was no man—he was a butcher. This wasn’t a duel. It was a spectacle. A cruel joke. I was a toy for their amusement.
“What?” Kael barked, laughing harshly. “A duel with this trash? I’d rather drag one of you out and behead you instead!”
Fear rippled through the crowd. Kael’s smile widened at their trembling. “Close the gates!” Heavy doors slammed. “If anyone moves, I will personally tear your head from your shoulders.”
Silence fell. King Leo descended, his cape trailing. “You will do it. If this servant withstands five punches from my son, he joins my army. If not… Kael may take his head as a trophy.” He sipped wine, watching like a spectator at a play.
“Your Majesty,” Michael, a silk-wrapped noble, called out while tossing a cube of cheese into his mouth. “I’m going to enjoy watching this servant die. Ten gold says he won’t survive the third strike.”
Laughter rippled. My hands trembled. I looked toward the gates—*run*—but spears were leveled at my chest. No escape. So I stayed. And waited.
Pain exploded.
My head slammed into the stone. I hadn’t even seen Kael move. One moment he was steps away, the next, I was spinning, my face grinding into the grit.
“Survive?” Kael whispered. “Dream on, waste.”
He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. My face met his fist—once. Twice. Three times. Teeth rattled. Coppery blood filled my mouth.
His fingers clamped around my throat, lifting me. I kicked, vision darkening. Then his fist crashed into my stomach. Agony tore through me. I flew into the stone wall, where old scars reopened.
I slid down, leaving a smear of red. The courtyard was quiet, save for my ragged gasps and the clicking of loose teeth on the stone. Kael charged again, annoyed. He hated that I was still alive.
A memory flickered—a face I never knew. A father I had never met. *Am I really that useless?* I asked. *Was I born just to be trampled?*
Throat burning, body shaking, I forced my head up. I gathered what little strength I had and spat toward Kael’s boots. The spit fell short.
Regret hit instantly. His eyes shifted from annoyance to cold promise. My strength disappeared. I went limp. If the next hit killed me, at least it would end.
His fist struck. Dust clouded the scene. The crowd cheered. King Leo sighed. “Truly useless. Just die already.”
Then, a faint sound stopped him. A rough, broken breath.
I was moving. My fingers twitched against the dirt.
Vision swam in shades of purple. Pain screamed in every bone. Something older than fear refused to stay down.
*No. No. No.*
“What?” whispered someone. “How is he still moving?”
Kael’s frown deepened. He snatched a sword from a guard. The blade sang as it left its sheath. He didn’t care about rules anymore. If his fists hadn’t killed me, the steel would.
Something moved inside me. Not muscle. Not bone. Something else. A voice echoed in the deepest part of my mind. Cold. Ancient. Hungry.
“Fool. You can’t even endure a weak noble’s punch?”
I froze. My heart stopped.
“Pathetic,” it chuckled like dry leaves over a grave. “Very well. Let me lend you a little help… so you can survive.”
Terror flooded me. It wasn't my thought. It wasn't my voice. Something had waited inside me, curled in the dark, waiting for this exact moment.
Power surged. Not a gift. A tearing apart.
Bones snapped, forcing themselves back with agonizing speed. My spine twisted. My neck jerked with a sickening c***k. Guards jumped back. Pain ripped from my throat as I screamed—an inhuman, jagged sound. Dark smoke leaked from my pores, swirling like living shadows.
Kael’s sword fell toward my neck. The crowd leaned forward, expecting me to be split in half. Instead, a sharp metallic *clack* rang out.
My hand had caught it. Barehanded.
Steel cut my palm but didn't pierce. Gasps erupted. I lifted my head. My vision had changed. The world looked different—darker, jagged, as if I could see the very veins of the earth pulsing.
My eyes glowed red. My muscles tensed, ready to tear Kael’s armor apart. I felt monstrous. But for the first time in my life, I wasn't useless. I was a force.
“What just happened?” Michael whispered, cheese falling from his hand.
King Leo stared, stunned. His royal mask was cracking.
The voice inside me spoke again. My lips moved with it:
“Now…” My mouth curved, wide and predatory. “…it is my turn.”
I was terrified. But I didn’t stop it.
