[center][color=b82521][h1][b]Abomination[/b][/h1][/color][/center] It was whispered everywhere, from the dank and dirty streets of slums beyond the wall all the way to the very halls of power themselves. Men and women of status hushed their voices as they spoke it under the light of illusory braziers. Street rats and cretins spoke it in the darkness, and even there they were careful. Cautious. For it was not a word you could utter freely. Everyone in Ketrefa, the great city, knew the word and what it referred to, but that didn’t mean they could speak it aloud. That terrible word. Abomination. The guards were always listening for it, and their orders were clear. None could be allowed to know. Even if everyone did. Because the truth was so terrible it would rock the very foundations of their society if anyone had the courage to speak it aloud. So, they whispered, and they whispered this: The queen is dead, slain by her young daughter. A witch. An abomination that called down fire from the sky. Even now, if one was particularly brave, you could see the damage. The blackened and collapsed western wall of the Azure Palace, standing high atop its artificial hill and screaming what happened without words. Nobody could know. Everyone knew. The truth was written in ash and blood, reflected on each and every face. Citizen or slave. It was a terrible thing, and within the ash covered walls of the blue palace itself, a decision had to be made on what to do about it. [hr] Magical light reflected off the worn face of the Royal Steward, and as he spoke the deep lines of his face shifted and cast shadows of their own, [color=b29c7f]“My king I feel for you, you must know this. I have known you since you were a boy. The pain you experience now is unbearable, maddening, I understand, but you cannot take out your grief on your daughter. This, this tragedy, was not something she meant.”[/color] [color=cfa654]“Yefe,”[/color] The King of Ketrefa, a handsome man whose young features were darkened by rage, smoldered from atop his gilded throne, [color=cfa654]“Do not speak to me like I am a boy! Old fool, a twisted thing like my so called daughter, cursed in the womb, intends nothing. It just destroys. I want the abomination dead, before the sun sets.”[/color] [color=b29c7f]“There are ways!”[/color] Yefe pleaded, [color=b29c7f]“I have heard of witches growing into their power, learning to control it. Traders from the south have brought us stories, we can look to them for guidance. She need not be a danger.”[/color] In one motion the King stood from his august seat and smacked his old teacher across the face, sending the elderly man to the ground with a cry. Looming above him the King of Ketrefa, rightful Sovereign of all Mankind, spat darkly, [color=cfa654]“She will not be.”[/color] The king drew a gilded bronze dagger from a sheath at his waist and stalked towards the throne room's entrance, wicked intent writ on a once admirable face. The noble court, those few of them who were trusted enough to have been summoned to this gathering, scattered and made way for their incensed lord. Eyes fell upon Yefe and none mustered the courage to gainsay their ruler. All but one held their tongues. A young man wearing a shirt of bronze mail stepped into the king's path and spoke without invitation, staring nervously at his rulers feet, [color=caeae8]“My lord it should not be by your hand. She is of impure blood. A monster.”[/color] The audacity of his servant struck the King like a blow, and he halted at once. Eyes burning with indignation, grief, and hatred bored into the man obstructing King of Ketrefa’s path. Amurat the third, sole living child of a dead king who bore the same name, came within a hair's breadth of shedding the blood of a member of his court. Only recognition of the man before him held the King's blade at bay. [color=cfa654]“Move aside, Trehe,”[/color] Amurat uttered the name like it was a curse, [color=cfa654]“That you are not dead is only due to the closeness of our families. I will forget this one treachery, for the sake of my wife. Your sister. But only if you move aside.”[/color] [color=caeae8]“I cannot,”[/color] Trehe uttered the words, voice shaking as if he did not believe them himself, [color=caeae8]“You are my King, and I will not allow you to dirty your hands. I ask you to use mine. The blood of a monster will not taint a lesser man like me. The Queen is dead. I beg you, brother, allow me to avenge her.”[/color] Silence overtook the court. Neither man nor nature moved, and for a moment it was as if time itself had stalled. Slowly, wordlessly, a drawn blade found itself scraping against its sheath. The King scowled, nodded, and turned away before speaking, [color=cfa654]“Then see it done, and know that when it is we will be brothers no longer. Do away with the filth that binds us.”[/color] Trehe blinked, straightened to look at the King’s back, and muttered, [color=caeae8]“I will.”[/color] He fled the throne room, and all that could do so joined him. Only one remained. Amurat’s eyes fell on Yefe, his eldest advisor and stalwart friend, now cradling his bruised cheek and leaning against a nearby pillar. The King spoke and his words could have chilled bone, [color=cfa654]“I repudiate you, Yefe. Never enter my presence again. I will not be merciful twice.”[/color] Yefe gazed into the eyes of a boy he’d helped raise, looking for the man he admired, who could be turned away from the awful path he’d stepped onto. The old man recognized nothing. [hr] As the sun crept towards the horizon two harnessed Quillat’s led a wagon out through the western gate of Ketrefa. It passed in silence, without challenge. Sitting in it was Trehe, the youngest man to ever be made Captain of the Gates, and a cadre of his closest men. Across from them, blindfolded, gagged, beaten, and chained was a young girl. Barely older than three. Trehe’s niece. She had not moved since she was loaded into the wagon, and Trehe held back tears as he beheld the reason. Her legs, while not broken, were beaten black and blue. Her naked feet were reddened and bloody. The only sign she was alive was her roughspun tunic heaving with her shallow breaths. Nobody spoke. There were no words to speak. The wagon led Trehe and his men to the foothills and the dark forests therein. They knew their duty, their terrible task. None wanted it, but all felt the weight of responsibility. The necessity. Each was armed, and as they regarded their weapons there wasn’t a one who wondered if that weight was enough. For before them was no monster. Just a girl. A girl that, for all the abuse she’d endured, made not a sound until the wagon stopped at the edge of the wood. Even then, she only whined through her gag as the wagon rocked and aggravated her injuries. Such was her terror. The men that had accompanied Trehe looked at him, some opened their mouths to speak, but they could not. Not if they couldn’t meet his eyes. They tried, surely, but in the end none had the strength. Trehe stood alone as he lifted the frail girl out of the wagon and led her into the wood. He held her carefully, caringly, and walked past the trees. Past the thick undergrowth that scratched at his face. Only when he was deep in the forest and the light had all but died did he stop. The girl was laid on the ground, the man knelt, and a blade was drawn. She must have heard it, for despite the agony of the action she tensed. Just a girl. A baby. Three years old. Trehe thought of his sister, of the King’s fury. He spoke softly, sharing the words with a little girl he’d loved as if she were his own, [color=caeae8]“It would be a mercy, Qashat. Look what they’ve done to you. It... It would be better.”[/color] She stirred at the voice, recognizing the man who’d brought her here, and she squirmed. It was too much. The blade clattered to the ground, and Trehe began to weep. He pulled the gag from his nieces mouth, undid her chains, and lifted the girls blindfold. She had her mother's eyes. Blue like the great river in spring. She stared at her uncle as he cried, and that she didn’t do the same made him weep more. [color=caeae8]“I can do nothing for you,”[/color] He choked on the words, [color=caeae8]“Nothing. I can’t even free you from the torment they’ve put you through."[/color] She stared at him, and her voice came out in a pained whisper, [color=b12f94]“W- Why?”[/color] It was a question too great for a child to ask, let alone understand the answer to. It was a question too great for Trehe, for though he was a man he’d barely passed his twenty second year. He closed his eyes and bitter words escaped his lips, [color=caeae8]”Because you’re different. Because you can do things. Because... Because you killed her."[/color] Her eyes, her mother's eyes, stared back at him with all the pain in the world. The Captain stood, and a single hope filled his chest, [color=caeae8]“But it wasn’t your fault. You can’t be blamed for it, for being born. I am an excuse of a man for being unable to say that when it mattered. I’m so sorry.”[/color] He turned, and spoke the last words the young witch would hear for years, [color=caeae8]“Live, Qashat. Please. Live.”[/color] The girl’s uncle bloodied his knife on his own arm, tied the injury with a rag, and fled. Then, she was alone. Injured, unable to walk, betrayed and left to die with a worthless wish. Qashat, heir to the throne of Ketrefa, once a princess who would rule the greatest city in the world, finally cried. As her tears streamed down her face the bruises on her body faded, cuts mended, and her strength returned. She didn’t understand it. How could she? All she knew was that she was alone. The man who’d been her uncle would not return. [hr] [hider=Summary] Ketrefa, the great city of the Highlands, is in shock. The Queen is dead, and rumor has spread far and wide that she is dead by the power of her three year old daughter. It can only be that the King sired a witch. In the palace the truth of this is known, but only Yefe, advisor to the King and his father before him, is willing to speak on the girl's behalf. The old man is beaten for it, and the King resolves to kill his Abomination offspring himself. He’s stopped by his brother in law, Trehe, Captain of the Gates. Trehe tells the King that he cannot sully his hands and reign with impure blood, and begs the king to allow him to avenge his sister. The king accepts. Trehe leads a party to kill the girl. They bring her, beaten as she was by the palace guards, to the forest outside the city. The others with Trehe can’t bring themselves to hurt her, and so he leads her into the woods alone. He prepares to kill her, but can’t do it. So, even knowing it would be kinder for her to die, he unbinds her and leaves her in the woods. When he is gone the girl, Qashat, is healed by her power. [/hider]