Day 1 hour 24 minute 60 second 60
The air in the grand hall was thick and hot, humming with the spicy, metallic taste of magic. A shimmering map, born of enchantment, hovered before the collected princes and generals, displaying the bloody tracks of the troll civil war. Jagged lines of red showed the conflict creeping closer to prominent cities, while new skirmishes erupted like boils across distant kingdoms.
On the King's lap, a young maid whimpered. King Elderon's sharp, elongated fangs were already dug into her neck, sinking with painful, deliberate intensity. She bit down on her tongue, trying not to struggle, her breath hitched in her throat. The King watched her face—a subtle, cruel smile curving his lips—and bit down harder, his teeth practically shredding the fragile flesh and cartilage apart. A high, breathless scream tore itself from the girl's lungs. His right hand, pale and heavy, clamped down on her mouth and jaw, smothering her cries against the velvet of his tunic. His lips, still pressed against her violated throat, smiled wider, his eyes never leaving the map, treating the act as a mundane snack.
Across the room, Miguel shook his head, a predatory snarl splitting his face. He drove his elbow into the wendigo's torso, knocking it against the stone wall before he slammed his jaw into the leg, his teeth tearing the sinew and meat apart with audible snaps. A slick of blood splattered across the map's magical projection, momentarily distorting the front lines. The rest of the man's body bled out in a spreading stain on the polished floor beneath him. A wave of gladness washed over Miguel; in this room, he could finally strip off the mask of civility. This was the true nature of wendigos: tearing the limbs of their lesser brethren held in their hands, with no fake facade needed. They were beings of unadulterated strength.
"Your family, they should be proud. You bleed out with no noise. Strong!" Miguel's voice was a guttural rumble, the raw, thick accent of his native tongue finally unchained. As he spoke to the dying wendigo. He let the tone settle in the air, knowing the simple beings outside this room—the women and their ilk—would find it impossible to decipher.
Linden and Landon, the brothers, ripped and crunched on meat from a recent catch—young trolls, newborns the size of most princesses. They generously offered the tender, bloody pieces to each other, a show of brutal, brotherly love.
Deacon, meanwhile, was shedding his own façade. He reached down and tore away the heavily stuffed suit that had given him the appearance of a healthily proportioned male. The material was tossed carelessly onto a nearby chair. Deacon inhaled a long, rattling breath of relief, his gray, skeletal form now on full display.
"We can finally be normal," Deacon said to Hector, his voice dry and rasping, as his empty eye sockets locked onto the Gargoyle Prince. "Now that you haven't dragged that useless princess along."
Hector growled, a sound like scraping stone. His face darkened, his true, vicious Gargolian features momentarily exposed, sharp canines fully bared. "She will be queen of my kingdom. Watch how you speak of her."
"Why are we here again?" Linden asked, his forked tongue darting out to lick the fresh blood dripping from his prey and onto his chin.
Jasper was the only one who sat as if he had no second skin to shed. His posture was unnaturally still at the head of the long table, his two fingers poised above the polished wood, waiting for the precise moment to descend.
"Oh no, a goat herder has died! We should all have a meeting about it!" Eric laughed, his eyes glittering with malicious amusement. A girl lay completely bare on the table before him. He extended his sharpened claws and began to slowly, meticulously etch the name 'Daniella' into her back. He repeated the name over and over, scratching the bleeding lines until the flesh was a raw, unrecognizable pulp of red and white. He then leaned down and licked the blood weeping from the wounds, relishing the infusion of her fear on his tongue. It was delectable.
Deacon threw his head back and let out a cackling laugh. "Did they trample some houses? Ruin a farmer's crops?"
The generals stood tall and unnaturally taut along the perimeter. Clifford, the Demon General, clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his own palms hard enough to draw blood, a ritual of focused restraint. Ramon's light gray, stone body tensed with irritation, and a faint, abrasive scrape sounded as his wings twitched against his armor. They were forced to swallow the burning irritation.
"There is a pressing problem, Your Majesties!" General Osteen tried to convey, only to be cut off.
"I'm not interested in dead villagers," Landon spoke up, slamming the torn troll leg against the gleaming table. "Unless it is the food on my table." He smirked.
"I would like to hear about the dying villagers," Jasper finally spoke, his voice quiet, yet cutting through the noise.
"Currently, the biggest worry is that the trolls are coming dangerously close to the Katani Stone Mine," General Osteen said, pointing a steady finger at various parts of the map.
Eric's pointed fingernail dug deep and decisively into the woman's lower spine, a sickening, wet crunch sounding in the sudden silence, a final, brutal flourish that severed the column entirely, leaving her paralyzed. Her body went instantly slack, eyes still wide with horror, a statue of agony on the table.
"If they were to join up with the other nearby skirmish, it would decimate the area," Mud explained. "If those two groups get wind of each other at all, it would be a full-scale, uncontainable war."
"We may not have a choice anymore about avoiding a troll war," Miguel said, letting the bone of the wendigo drop.
Hector's face contorted and darkened again, exposing his vicious, horrid Gargolian features. "We should send some armies to eradicate the trolls nearing the stone mine. It's not a resource we can risk," he growled.
Clifford stepped forward. "There is no troll activity in the Demon Kingdom. We are prepared to mobilize."
"Lucky for the demons," Ramon said with bitter spite. His large wings expanded and contracted against his back, sounding like harsh stones grinding against each other.
Jasper's palm gently rested on the polished wood. He lifted his two fingers, then tapped the wood once. His innate power seemed to emanate beneath his fingertips. With each long pause before the next tap, his grin grew wider.
"The princesses have been quite idle—" Jasper began, only to be cut off by a sharp sound.
"Our world faces a calamity, and you want to speak about bored princesses!" Hector snapped. His bald fist slammed onto the table.
"I am thinking there is one solution to two problems," Jasper continued, as if Hector hadn't spoken a single word.
King Elderon pulled his eyes away from the map. "Speak your plan!"
Jasper tapped two more times on the table. "I think in three days we should send them to intercept the trolls. Two problems, one solution."
The room instantly erupted into a heated debate.
"Why would you suggest something like that?" Eric asked, watching Jasper with a sharp gaze.
"It's too risky," Linden found himself hissing out.
"No!" Landon stated simply.
"It is a good idea. It will weed out the weak!" Hector liked the idea.
"Not even on the marriage market anymore, but still scheming!" Linden spat at Hector.
"This tactic—it won't make me back down!" Eric said, leaning back in his seat.
Closing his eyes, Jasper leaned his head back, continuing to rhythmically tap his fingers.
"Silence." The King's single word snapped the noise into a hush.
King Elderon watched Jasper. "Prince Jasper has brought up a very reasonable suggestion. It has been accepted. The princesses shall leave in three days."
Jasper opened his eyes and looked towards King Elderon, who offered him a smile of cold, victorious understanding. The three-day deadline was significant. In three days, Eric would tell the other kingdoms about Daniella's ability, and she would be hunted. And in three days, the princesses would march to what most of the men in this room believed was their death.
Jasper nodded politely to the King. He then rose from the table, a calculated, fluid movement, and took his leave. He had an angry Daniella to find.
Author's note:
I'm going to keep consistent! 🤣 But work is killing!