It was almost a bit out of the ordinary to meet someone in the middle of this dark, mysterious forest on the outskirts of the kingdom's capital. Especially when that someone was knocking insistently on the door of a witch's hut—your door, in fact.

Everyone knew that magic was fiercely discouraged by the royal family, so all sorcerers tried to avoid the guards, ever since there was a decent bounty on their heads. And you thought this place would be the perfect hideout from all the turmoil in that damned realm.

Until you finally opened the door and found, as Merlin is your witness, the prince himself standing on your porch. And the first thing you notice is cold sweat running down his face and his palm pressed firmly against his side, where clothes were torn and soaked with blood.

"Please help." He grunted in pain, barely able to stand.