Prologue
War. The frozen plane of Hestaesia was consumed by it. They say there was once a time when faerie and demon were one, but anyone with any recollection of that fact had long since turned to dust. The plane was split in two.
Scholars would say it started with 'The Great War': the very first conflict that made it onto parchment.
Tensions had grownto breaking point between the two factions and the faeries’ greed had overwhelmed them. Demon villages had been pillaged, raped and burnt to the ground. Children were orphaned. Bodies hung from trees throughout the kingdom.
Demons were a proud race and they respected the hierarchy of royalty unquestioningly. It had been their downfall. Though they fought valiantly, their physical might had not been enough to best the wily majicks of the faerie people.
The head of the demon king had been sliced clean from his shoulders and the entire populace felt the pain as if it had been their own. When the king fell, his people swiftly followed.
The faerie king, enthralled by his victory, knew nothing of thedemon maiden clambering desperately from a dusty cupboard, the dirt on her face streaked with tears.
The demon king had hidden her, sensing his imminent demise.
Though she had pleaded with him not to leave, he had dismissed her with sorrow in his expression, instead choosing to place a long kiss against her mouth before wedging the cabinet shut.
Through the wooden door, the proud king had begged her to remain hidden until she was certain she was safe. He had told her he loved her and then he had gone – heroically facing his fate.
With their king dead, the demons stopped fighting. Their flame had been extinguished and the first of many wars was lost.
All their worldly possessions were stolen from them or burnt to cinder. They shrank back, locked out in the cold by the mighty walls surrounding the proud faerie capital – Awrelwood.
There, the faerie king sat in his bejewelled throne room, sharing his newfound riches with his people. As fine fabric, delicious delicacies and exotic paintings flooded the city, the plight of the demon people was quickly forgotten. Those who had disagreed with the king's methods had been easily silenced, won over with elaborate bribes.
Whilst the faeries revelled, the demons wallowed. Disease ran rampant through the crowded slums of their new home, Banesteppe.
Like wounded dogs, they hid in the shadows lamenting their fate, unaware of the small spark of hope that was blooming within the womb of the pregnant demon maiden.
∞∞∞
Three decades passed...
“You summoned me, Brother?” Cirro Goldwyrm approached the throne with his head bowed. He swept the heavy, elaborately decorated velvet coat he wore behind him and knelt before the king.
King Lazuli, leader of the faeries, had his back turned, gazing out at the dying sunset. He compulsively ran his hand over his fair, neatly trimmed facial hair, deep in thought.
“The demons grow restless. I fear their rebellion is only growing in momentum.”
“You have guards posted at every corner. There are nightly raids on drinking establishments and innocent dwellings... You've made quite a reputation for yourself amongst the demon populace, Lazuli. What outcome were you hoping for?” Cirro shook his head, his brow creased with concern.
They had not seen one another for many months. Cirro was curious to see if the rumours of his brother's madness held any truth. He got to his feet, quietly appraising his brother.
Lazuli span on his heel. “For submission! They threaten all we have, all we know. Do youwishfor an uprising?”
“Of course not.” Cirro glared, holding his brother's molten gaze. “I wish for a safe and happy life for my daughter. For everyone's daughters. I believe the demon king–”
“He is not a king!” Lazuli roared, spittle flying from his mouth like venom. His large golden wings fluttered ominously.
“Apologies, Brother. I did not mean–” Cirro dipped his head.
“I know. The nights... They are long and filled with worry in my household at present. My nerves are frayed.” The king sighed, running his palm over his face.
“I understand.” Cirro paused. “But you called me here for my counsel. Please, I believe the demons only want equality.”
“Equality.” Lazuli snorted. “And where, pray tell, would we find the funds for that? We’re barely keeping the economy afloatas it is.”
“War is expensive, Lazuli. More expensive than a potential compromise.”
