"We cannot keep this abomination, Your Majesty!" the royal chief spat, his voice loud enough to fill the entire room. "It does not matter if she is a princess."
"She is the daughter of a maid!" another chief interjected, his voice filled with hatred. "A mistake. A bastard. Why should the lives of thousands be risked for a girl who should not exist? You have true heirs, Majesty. Let her head be hung on the kingdom walls."
The court broke into murmurs, growing louder as everyone shared their opinions, none in her favor.
Isadora, the bastard of House Nareeba, heard it all, but she did not dare look up.
She remained kneeling, her head bowed before the high court.
Her wrist burned where the heavy chain, coated with a magical substance that suppressed her power, hung tightly.
Her clothes were torn from the countless whips she had endured, the marks of their torture clearly visible on her skin.
"She is a witch!"
"A monster with forbidden blood magic!"
another screamed, their voice filled with fear.
"How long before she creeps into our nurseries? How many of our children will die to feed her hunger?"
Hunger? She had never tasted human blood, never craved it.
"Abomination!"
"Burn her! Kill the girl!"
The insults hurt, but Isadora did not flinch. Only a single tear rolled down her cheek as she listened to their cruel words.
Yes, she was born with one of the forbidden powers of the nine kingdoms; a gift, or rather a curse, she never asked for.
But it was one she had never used for evil.
Not once.
"Silence," the king, her father finally spoke, his loud voice thundering through the room.
The entire courtroom fell silent, everyone waiting for the king's judgment to decide whether his own daughter would live or die.
"Raise your head," he commanded.
Isadora didn't need to look up to know he was speaking to her.
She wanted to obey, but she was too weak. It felt like her entire body had given up on her.
The body she once found comfort in had now become a cage, trapping her in despair.
She felt pain in every limb.
"LIFT YOUR HEAD! THE KING HAS COMMANDED IT!" a royal guard yelled. His words were followed by the crack of a whip on her back, echoing through the room.
"Argh!" Isadora screamed as her body fell forward. Pain spread through her whole being, and her vision blurred, as if she were about to meet her end.
Her fingers dug into the ground, trying to distract herself from the burning pain on her back.
"Get up," the king repeated. His voice was flat. Empty. "Look at me."
She took three sharp breaths. Her lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass. If she didn't rise now, she feared another whip across her back.
With a low groan, she pressed her trembling palms against the floor. Using the last of her strength, she pushed herself up. Her muscles screamed, but she forced herself back into a kneeling position.
Slowly, she lifted her chin. Her neck felt like it might snap, but she forced her eyes to meet his.
Nothing.
There was nothing.
She searched for even a bit of anger. She prayed for disappointment. Maybe even hatred.
But there was nothing.
He felt nothing for her.
From the day she learned she was the king's daughter until now, all she had ever seen in his eyes was nothing.
Eyes so cold that even the icy chill of the North could not compare to the man sitting on the throne.
Another tear rolled down her cheek. Somehow, the emptiness in her father's eyes hurt more than the pain on her back.
"The court has decided your fate," the king said, his eyes locked on hers. "At dawn, after the first cock crows, the bastard Isadora will be taken to the Python Pillar. There, she will be beheaded. We will purge this world of her filth once and for all."
Isadora closed her eyes as soon as she heard the final judgment. Her heart pounded violently at the mention of death.
"Take her back to the dungeon," he commanded.
The guards did not wait. They seized her by the hair and chains, dragging her up with a violent jerk as they pulled her out of the courtroom.
Outside, an even more hostile crowd waited.
The entire village had gathered to see the blood witch.
The guard behind her, the one with the whip shoved his boot into the small of her back. "Move, witch!"
Isadora tried to control herself, but eventually she ended up falling on her knees on the hard ground.
Get up now!" the guard barked, kicking her violently. She coughed up blood instantly.
"On your feet, witch, or the whip will speak again!"
The whip.
The mere thought of the pain made her skin crawl.
Isadora struggled, trying to steady herself before forcing her way back on her feet.
She didn't have the strength. One more lash, and it felt like she would die before she could even be beheaded the next day.
"Evil!" a woman screamed from the front of the crowd as she spat.
A thick glob of spit landed on Isadora's cheek. She didn't wipe it away, she didn't have the strength. She simply closed her eyes, too numb to feel the disgust.
"Monster! Blood-drinker!" another voice shouted as a heavy stone was thrown at her.
It hit her shoulder, and she cried out in pain.
Her knees buckled, almost giving way, but she forced herself to keep moving.
The villagers were relentless, hurling curses as she endured it all.
They threw whatever they had at her; stones, spit, even vegetables. Despite the hunger in the kingdom, they still found enough to throw in the name of hatred.
In their eyes, her suffering was worth more than the emptiness in their stomachs.
Isadora endured it all, walking the path of shame and hatred until she finally reached her prison.
Immediately, she arrived at the prison. The guard with the whip, who seemed to take personal pleasure in tormenting and humiliating her, roughly shoved her inside, making her fall onto the cold, dark, wet floor.
The disgusting smell of blood, urine, and possibly even feces filled the air.
"If it were up to me, I would beat you until you couldn't scream," he sneered, his eyes crawling over her like insects.
He spat on her in disgust before slamming the prison door shut with a loud bang that made her flinch.
Isadora lay there, completely still, as tears so hot they almost burned her skin flowed sideways.
If she had not been a woman with the strength of ten men, she would have died from the inhumane torture she had endured since her secret got out.
She lay there, her mind reeling from the humiliation, the rejection, the hatred she had suffered over the past few days.
At that moment, she did not know whether to feel anger or sadness. She did not know whether to seek revenge or wish for everything to end. She did not know whether to fear death or crave it, since it was the only place their hateful stares and voices could not reach her.
She did not know anything.
She did not even know if she was still alive.
"Mama…" Isabella choked out as she stared into nothingness. "Why did you leave so soon? Why didn't you take me with you?"
"I am finished," she whispered, her breath catching in her chest. "I don't want this life anymore. Please… just take me with you."
She let out one final sob.
The world began to spin. The cold floor seemed to melt away as darkness rushed in to claim her. Consciousness was like a candle, flickering out, and for the first time in days, she felt a sense of peace.
"Isa, Isa…" She suddenly felt someone tapping her gently on the arm, trying to get her attention.
She had been so lost in a sea of despair that she didn't hear the dungeon door open.
"Isa, wake up now," the voice grew louder, more impatient. "Wake up, Isa."
Her eyelids felt like they were sewn shut, but she forced them open. She had been so close to death, and at that moment, it annoyed her to be dragged back to reality.
"Isa, look at me," the voice said.
Isadora's vision slowly cleared as she looked at the girl standing before her.
It was her; the reason she was chained, beaten, and sentenced to die. Yet, she felt no regret.
"Am… a… Amelia," she choked out, her voice weak as Amelia gently helped her sit up.
"This is all my fault," Amelia said, her voice breaking. Her fingers trembled as she tucked a matted strand of hair behind Isa's ear. "Sister, I did this to you. It's all my fau.."
"Hush, Amelia," Isa cut in softly. She took her hand and placed a small kiss on her palm. "Do not blame yourself for the cruelty of men. Their hatred has nothing to do with you."
"But if you hadn't used it!" Amelia cried, her voice cracking. "I was dying, Isa. You were hiding your power, staying safe in the shadows, but you used your blood magic to save me. If that maid hadn't seen, if she hadn't told the King, you wouldn't be in these chains."
Amelia burst into tears.
"Amelia, look at me." Even in her weakened state, Isa found the strength to pull her sister closer. She wrapped her bruised arms around her, holding her tightly against the cold. "I would choose you over my secrets every single time. Stop crying. It was worth it."
Amelia was Isa's sixteen year old younger half sister, the last daughter of their father, King Amethyst. She was the only one kind enough to treat Isadora like she mattered when she was brought to the palace to live as a princess six years ago.
Amelia had been born with a chronic illness no one could cure, and when she was close to death, Isa, unable to bear losing her, used her forbidden magic to save her
For that one act of love, Isa was now paying in blood.
"Here," Amelia whispered, her eyes red from crying. "Let me use my healing. I can fix these scars."
She raised her hands toward Isadora, her palms already glowing a bright green, but Isa quickly caught her wrist and shook her head.
"Don't, Amelia." She gently released her sister's hand. "You are still too weak. Using your magic now will drain what little life you have left. And besides, I am a dead woman. Don't waste it on me."
"It is never a waste," Amelia snapped, her voice suddenly fierce. "Did you think so little of me? Did you think I would just sit here and watch you die?"
She reached into her silk dress and pulled out a metal key.
Isadora's eyes widened in shock, her heart nearly stopping. It was the key to the anti magic chains on her hands.
"Amelia, what have you done?" Isa hissed. "If Father finds out you stole that, he will"
"Father will not kill me," Amelia cut in as she began unlocking the chains. "At most, he will marry me off to some distant lord as punishment. He won't spill my blood."
She leaned closer, the key clicking into the lock. "But you don't have that luxury, sister. You have to leave. I have to do this."
The chain finally came loose and dropped to the floor.
You are too weak to heal yourself right now. I will do it for you," Amelia said as she stretched her hands forward, glowing green. "There's a secret passage. I usually use it to sneak out of the castle when I am bored. It is behind the statue in the west wing. It leads to an old well outside the city walls. From there, run toward the Great Oak. Follow the roots, they will lead you to the river."
"Amelia, stop… you are draining yourself…"
"Shut up, Isa," Amelia said, focusing all her magic on Isadora. Her face was filled with panic and urgency as she kept glancing at the door.
Isa began to feel her scars closing, her broken bones slowly mending, and her cuts sealing.
The pain started to fade. Amelia's magic was too weak to heal everything, but it gave her the strength she desperately needed.
"What is this?" a familiar voice said.
Amelia immediately stopped.
It was the same guard who had been torturing Isadora. He burst into the room, making both sisters flinch.
"You have released her!" he shouted in shock. "Guar.."
He was about to call for help, but Isadora raised her hand toward him, and the words died in his throat.
She didn't even touch him, yet the air in the room suddenly turned cold.
His face began to turn purple. He kicked and thrashed as something tightened around his neck. He began to make choking sounds as he clawed his throat, trying to break free from the grip.
His eyes slowly turned red, the veins in his head about to burst. A thin trail of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as he made gurgling noises.
She was controlling his blood, using it to strangle him, forcing him to choke on it.
"Stop it, sister!" Amelia cried, grabbing her sister's arm.
Isa didn't move. Her eyes were locked on the man who had tormented her, her heart screaming for his blood.
"Don't," Amelia pleaded, her voice shaking. "Do not become the monster they fear you are."
Isadora glanced at the guard, just inches away from death and then back at her sister. She closed her eyes, frustrated at herself for not taking the revenge she wanted, and slowly lowered her hand.
The guard collapsed to the floor like a sack of stones, gasping and clawing at his throat, desperate for air.
Amelia removed her heavy cloak and draped it over Isadora.
"Go now. Run, and never look back," Amelia said.
Tears slipped down Isadora's cheeks as she hugged her sister one last time before running from the cell, using every last bit of strength.
Princess Amelia watched her sister disappear into the darkness.
Though relieved to see her free, she couldn't shake the thought: would the woman she had saved from death one day become the very monster her people feared?