Page 6 of The Princess and the Demon

King Logan walks around the corner from his study, carrying a large leather-bound scroll.

I regard him quietly, clasping my hands in my lap nervously.

I didn’t understand the significance of the babe having been born blonde. Yes, it was odd that a sun touched male child would be born to a long line of moon touched.

Weirder things have happened.

My father sits across from us, lowering himself into his chair with a groan. He unrolls the scroll onto the table between us.

“Elora, this is your first time hearing this story. I didn’t feel the need to tell you before now.”

I nod, leaning forward a bit to glance at the scroll.

“The story goes like this: Earth was the prize of a war that spanned millennia. After man fell, the few left were given a choice. We could stay and be given another chance, or we could perish to the demons that would roam the Earth.”

He adjusts in his chair before continuing.

“The price was their technology. The last descendants of Eden agreed, and the remaining people on Earth were split into three kingdoms. First, the Kingdom of Prelia was built near the ocean. The second, the Kingdom of Ferran was built in the flat lands of the valley.”

I listen as my father points to each corresponding location on the map laid out before us.

“The third, our Kingdom. The Kingdom of Delyra, was built high in the mountains.”

I nodded. I’d read all of this. The story changes over time, but the basis stays the same.

“What they did not put in the books,” My father begins again, “Is that each kingdom is also governed by a deity. After the kingdoms were built, and our people settled into our new way of life, demons started to roam freely among our lands.

“When they realized they could gain easy meals by infiltrating our walls, life became a struggle to survive once again. Each kingdom made a deal with our benevolent deities to preserve our peace.”

I swallow thickly as nervousness flutters in my stomach.

“In exchange for one-thousand years of peace, each kingdom would give something of great value.” My father sits back against the high back of his chair.

He regards my brother quietly.

“Delyra has always produced people with white hair. Our people became known as moon-touched for obvious reasons. The flowers that bloom during the full moon only grow in these mountains.”

His gaze moves to me, and I shift nervously.

“There has only been one sun-touched male child born to our line in a thousand years, and he lies in the arms of his mother at this very moment.”

The air escapes my lungs with a shaky whoosh.

Silence impregnates the space between us. I don’t dare look over at my brother. I can feel tears stinging the backs of my eyes, but I don’t dare let one fall.

“Olam,” my father starts, “Your son has been promised to our deity, Amon. In exchange for peace, we must abide by our contract.”

I clasp my hands tightly in my lap, looking past my father at the flickering flames. I try to swallow my tears, taking long, deep breaths.

I want to sob. I want to sob for my brother, for Ziterra, for the innocent child that lay upstairs at this very moment, unaware of this fate.

The silence is deafening save for the crackling of the fire.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words get caught in my throat.

I clear it before trying again. “I-is there no other way?” The words come out as a whisper, and I turn to look at Olam finally.

He sits, his eyes devoid of anything.

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