Prologue: The 1st Meeting
Once upon a time, In a bygone era, in a kingdom shrouded in shadows, there existed a Prince, but his claim to the throne was marred by malevolence.
Rather than embodying the noble virtues expected of royalty, he personified the darkest aspects of power.
With a heart as cold as the stone walls of his fortress, he shamelessly extracted the meager earnings of the impoverished, squeezing them dry like grapes in a winepress.
To him, people were nothing more than pieces on a chessboard, positioned strategically to serve his insatiable hunger for dominion.
Those who dared raise their voices against his tyranny were swiftly and unceremoniously silenced, and he exhibited no semblance of compassion for either humankind or the creatures of the realm. Compassion was a foreign concept to him, a language he had long forgotten. His heart beat only for his own desires, oblivious to the suffering he inflicted on those around him.
Yet, as the saying goes, fate is a capricious mistress. For the course of his destiny took a dramatic turn on that fateful day, the day he encountered her...
In the midst of his dark reign, an unexpected presence would challenge the very essence of his being, and in the crucible of their meeting, the Prince would begin a transformation he could never have foreseen.
The bustling Ville de Lumière marketplace teemed with the inviting aroma of freshly baked bread and dazzled with a kaleidoscope of vibrant, blooming flowers. Amid this vivid tapestry, Prince Coryn, a figure of both fear and authority, found himself reluctantly amidst the common folk, an experience that grated on his every nerve.
“Pardon moi, Monsieur,” a voice, youthful and innocent, called out to him.
Prince Coryn’s brow furrowed, not merely in annoyance but in sheer incredulity. “Monsieur? How dare you address me in such a manner, far beneath the dignity of my station!”
The voice belonged to a young girl, her hopeful eyes as fresh as the morning dew. “Would you buy a rose???”
Prince Coryn’s piercing gaze bore down on the child, his thoughts momentarily considering the spectacle he could make of her before the assembled crowd. “Darling child,” he uttered, his words laced with icy disdain, “I would not purchase a solitary rose from you, even if it were the most exquisite blossom my eyes had ever beheld.”
The girl let out a squeak, her lower lip quivering in the face of such harsh rebuke. “Monsieur?”
With a palpable air of apology, she stammered, “Qui, Sir... I am deeply sorry to have troubled you.” And with that, her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, cast downward as she withdrew from his presence, leaving behind a trail of crushed petals and a retreating figure amidst the market’s vibrant tapestry.
Just as the encounter seemed to be drawing to a close, a mysterious presence made itself known. A Sorceress, a figure as mysterious as the words she would soon utter, materialized gracefully at his side.
“That was very rude of you, Your Majesty,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of reprimand.
Prince Coryn, his resolve unyielding, countered, “Qui, and I do not care.”
When he had first laid eyes upon the Sorceress he thought she was very beautiful. In fact, he was quite taken by her. Her shadowy black hair captivated him, and her piercing brown eyes held his gaze without flinching. It took him by surprise that she would dare to stare at him so openly.
Gathering his thoughts, Prince Coryn addressed the mysterious woman beside him, unable to ignore her any longer. “If you do not mind my bluntness, you are breathtaking, Madam. Pardon Moi, but what might I call you?”
The Sorceress, unyielding in her enigmatic aura, remained resolute. “You may call me nothing, Your Majesty.” Refusing to tell him her name.
“I beg your pardon?!” Prince Coryn exclaimed, taken aback by her insolence.
“In fact, you are going to be quite sorry you ever met me at all after today.”
The sharp exchange continued as Prince Coryn demanded, “Are you threatening me?”
The Sorceress responded cryptically, “You will come to understand what misfortune means.”
“I am not threatening you, Your Majesty,” she added, “but merely foretelling what I know your future will hold.”
With that, the Sorceress seemed to vanish, not disappearing entirely but blending seamlessly into her surroundings, leaving Prince Coryn bewildered.
“Peculiar witch,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, unable to shake the sense of mystique that clung to her like an ethereal cloak.
Amid the chaotic market, a sudden commotion caught Prince Coryn’s attention. An angry voice rose above the clamor.
“You stupid girl!”
Curiosity compelled him to turn and see a young boy standing over a flower merchant, the same girl who had approached him earlier. The boy seemed on the verge of striking her, and her pleading eyes met Prince Coryn’s gaze.
With a sigh, he turned away, a sense of weariness creeping over him. “I’ve had enough of these crass commoners,” he muttered under his breath, “and this depressing flower girl.”
The market continued to bustle around them, oblivious to the fleeting moments of drama and emotion that played out in the lives of its inhabitants.
The girl faced the angry villager.
“Where’s my Da’s money, girl?” the boy demanded.
Though roses lay scattered around them, trampled underfoot by passersby, the flower girl courageously met the boy’s gaze. “I don’t have it. Je suis désolée. I am sorry. I can try again tomorrow. It’s getting late now.”
The villager’s response was stern. “Da will not be happy.”
In the midst of their exchange, Dae mustered the strength to speak once more.
“I’m sorry. I did my best.”
The villager’s tone remained unyielding. “We shall see if your best was enough.”
As the tense confrontation continued, the market’s cacophony seemed to engulf them. The sound of footsteps echoed through the winding alleys, signaling the departure of the young boy, while Dae scurried away as fast as her small feet could carry her, disappearing into the vibrant tapestry of Ville de Lumière.
The marketplace, with its myriad stories and fleeting encounters, continued to bustle, indifferent to the turmoil.
The echo of knocking, persistent and unsettling, reverberated through the empty corridors of the vibrant castle.
“Why isn’t anyone answering the door?!” Prince Coryn’s voice rang with frustration and confusion.
He called out again, louder this time, his tone tinged with impatience. “Anyone? Hello?! Servants!”
Silence met his inquiries, a haunting stillness that seemed to have engulfed the entire castle.
“I suppose I shall open it,” he muttered to himself, his royal dignity wounded by the prospect of a Prince answering his own castle door. He began to walk, each footstep echoing through the desolate hallways as he made his way toward the entrance hall. The absence of bustling servants, guards, and nobles of the Royal Court was stark and surreal.
Usually, the halls were bustling with servants, guards, and Nobles of the Royal Court. It was like a ghost castle now. An eerie feeling hung in the air, and he couldn’t help but hesitate.
Something was profoundly amiss.
The knocking returned, tapping insistently like a portent of doom.
“I’ll get it,” he muttered, trying to shake off his unease.
As he drew closer to the door, the knocking seemed to grow louder, more insistent, as if demanding attention.
“Who is it?” he called out, but his voice was met with an unsettling silence.
Hesitantly, he reached for the door handle and opened it in one swift motion. To his astonishment, there was no one there.
A single rose lay at his feet, delicate and white against the cold stone floor. Prince Coryn bent down to pick it up but pricked his finger on a thorn hidden among its petals. A single drop of ruby blood spilled onto the pristine white blossom.
The moment his blood touched the rose, searing pain erupted within him, causing him to collapse to the ground.
“What... is... happening to... me?!”
His vision blurred, the world fading into darkness. In the depths of his torment, he heard a chilling, mocking laughter—a voice that filled his mind with dread.
"Poor, selfish Prince Coryn. I curse you. In your short life, you have done nothing but be cruel to those who needed you most. May the full horror of your actions be revealed to you in time."
"As above, so below... good night, precious Beast."--As Prince Coryn faded out of consciousness, the last face that swirled before his blurred vision was that of the Sorceress.
Her features were etched in his mind, a haunting visage that seemed to linger in the darkness that enveloped him, like a shadowy omen of the trials yet to come.
