The portal spewed Ethan out into a suffocating sky of ash and burning soot.
Cries rang across the shattered plain—the heavy clatter of black steel, the sharp crackle of rogue lightning, and the shrill screams of dying warriors. Ethan struck the muddy, blood-stained earth on all fours, his spine absorbing the impact before his wings could even fully unfurl. Instinctively, he clamped his wings tight against his back, crouching down into the thick mud to minimize his small frame.
He stood barely three foot eight, a miniature figure amidst tall, brutal combatants. Right now, being tiny was his only weapon.
All around him, tall warriors with radiant silver wings fought furiously against lean, dark-skinned Shadow Elves clad in obsidian mail. Alongside the elves moved pale figures of horrific speed—Vampires, their red eyes cutting through the haze like burning embers. Ethan did not recognize the silver-winged ones, though something deep in his chest throbbed with a strange, fleeting familiarity as he watched them bleed.
There was no time to process the ache. A Shadow Elf turned, his coal-black eyes catching the shift of movement in the mud.
Ethan pressed his palms to the dirt. He channeled a tiny thread of earth magic, tearing up a curtain of silt and dry grass to obscure the elf's sight line. Leaping over a shattered shield, Ethan sprinted toward the cover of a jagged stone pillar, his breath ragged in his chest.
Then the air froze.
A heavy, terrifying weight crashed over the battlefield, smothering the sound of fighting. The temperature plummeted so fast that frost instantly webbed across the mud.
---
"What a curious little creature," a voice purred. It was smooth, dark, and drenched in black magic that made Ethan's teeth hum.
A woman stepped through the swirling violet smoke. Her gown seemed woven from living shadows, her chalk-white skin stark against the carnage around her. Beside her stood three Shadow Elf guards, their dark spears leveled straight at Ethan's chest.
Ethan backed away, his small feet sliding in the mud. He reached for his inner elemental well, trying to pull a barrier of flame from the embers nearby, but before he could gather the force, the woman casually flicked her wrist.
A whip of dark magic struck Ethan square in the ribs.
He slammed backward against a jagged rock, the wind blasted from his lungs in a silent gasp. Pain flared behind his eyes as he crumpled to his knees.
"Concealment seals?" Queen Natily murmured, stepping closer with an expression of intense disgust. "A rat hiding its filthy coat beneath layers of cheap illusion magic?"
She raised a clawed hand, her fingers curling in the air as if gripping invisible threads.
"Let us see what you really are."
She yanked her hand back. A violent, tearing sensation ripped through Ethan's flesh—not from the outside, but from deep within his marrow. He opened his mouth, but no sound came as the ancient magic keeping his true features hidden shattered like brittle glass.
The dull, mud-brown coat of his glamour stripped away in a flash of violet sparks.
Along his cheekbones, his collarbone, and the delicate contours of his wrists and ribs, metallic blue chitin markings flared into radiant, iridescent life. His hair, previously short and dingy, tumbled down past his jaw in loose, wavy curls of vibrant maroon, plum, and deep wine. When he forced his head up, his eyes blazed—a luminous, shocking turquoise-emerald green that cut through the darkness.
Natily tilted her head, prodding his shoulder with the toe of her leather boot. She stared down at his small, trembling frame, her lip curling in dismissive disdain.
"A miniature imp with blue chitin," she snorted, turning her back on him. "Pathetic. His aura is weak, his elemental spark is barely a spark at all. A useless dud."
'Is he?'
The voice didn't come from the air. It vibrated directly inside Ethan's skull—rich, terrifyingly smooth, and brimming with lethal charisma.
A second figure stepped out of the violet gloom. Clad in high-collared crimson silk and gilded plate, Lord Damon towered over the scene. His eyes were twin rubies, burning with an intense, predatory focus as they locked onto Ethan.
"He has no bloodline of note, Damon," Natily scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Do what you like with the trash. I care nothing for it."
"A prize," Damon whispered telepathically, his voice echoing in Ethan's mind like a warm, intoxicating poison. "A quiet, beautiful little pet for my tower."
---
Ethan didn't get the chance to fight back. Two Shadow Elves grabbed his arms, snapping cold iron shackles over his wrists. The metal burned his skin, instantly suffocating the faint whisper of elemental magic he possessed.
The world blurred into a disorienting haze of motion, ending in a lush, oppressive fortress high above the clouds.
When Ethan came to his senses, he was on his knees inside a lavish antechamber. Crimson velvet drapes swept down from high arching stone windows, overlooking the burning war zone far below. Heavy mahogany furniture, silver candelabras, and the suffocating scent of crushed roses and copper filled the room.
Ethan scrambled backward until his spine hit the base of a heavy stone pillar. His blue chitin markings hummed with trapped panic. He kept his lips locked tight, refusing to speak. His wide, turquoise eyes darted franticly across the floor, searching for any route, any crack, any weakness in the stone.
Heavy doors clicked open.
Damon walked in, sweeping his crimson cloak behind him like a storm cloud. He moved with silent, fluid grace, his ruby eyes fixed on Ethan's trembling form.
"So quiet," Damon murmured, stepping down to match Ethan's small height. "A silent, beautiful doll."
Ethan pulled his knees tight to his chest, his jaw set in a rigid line, his hands balling into small fists inside the iron shackles.
Damon knelt in front of him. He reached out with a pale, gloved hand, taking Ethan's chin between his fingers. His touch was as cold as marble, his thumb tracing the blue chitin along Ethan's cheekbone with agonizing slowness.
"You will learn your place here, little fae," Damon purred, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as his fangs glinted in the flickering candlelight. "I will give you pain beyond what your tiny mind can comprehend. I will give you pleasure that will make you forget your very name. But first... I require my payment."
---
Ethan tried to pull away, straining against the pillar, but Damon gripped his shoulder like a vice, pinning his small body effortlessly against the stone.
Just as Damon's shadow engulfs him, a sharp, metallic scent fills the air, and Ethan feels a sudden, excruciating pressure at his neck, a sensation colder and more invasive than anything he has ever known.
Damon bit down with brutal, animalistic fury.
Ethan threw his head back, a choked, agonizing cry finally breaking past his locked lips. The vampire didn't just bite—he fed ravenously, sinking his teeth deep into Ethan's throat, drinking with an insatiable, wild greed.
Ethan felt his warmth being ripped out of his veins. His vision flickered with blinding white spots as his blood gushed into the monster's throat.
Suddenly, Damon gasped against Ethan's skin. The vampire lord froze, his eyes widening in shock as a wave of raw, divine power surged through his jaw and exploded into his blood stream.
"What... what is this?" Damon gasped, tearing his lips back slightly only to growl with ecstatic madness. He drank deeper, his aura expanding so violently that the heavy glass chandeliers above shattered, raining crystal shards across the velvet rug.
Ethan's head rolled back against the stone. He was being drained too fast. His chest hitched in shallow, fluttering gasps, his turquoise-green eyes dulling into lifeless gray.
With a breathless laugh, Damon ripped himself away. He stood upright, his skin glowing with an unholy red light, his veins buzzing with an adrenaline rush so potent his body trembled. He threw back his head and laughed, drunk on the unbelievable, terrifying strength raging in his veins.
Without another glance at the small fae, Damon turned and swept out of the chamber, eager to unleash his newfound godhood onto the war below.
Ethan collapsed onto his side on the cold carpet.
His neck burned with a hollow, freezing numbness. His bloodpool pooled out beneath his maroon hair, staining the plush velvet dark. His pulse slowed to a faint, erratic stutter, threatening to stop entirely as the darkness swallowed him whole.