Dorian stares into the densely populated streets of his kingdom, Adarlan, from his balcony at the place. His magic rushing to the surface attempting to break free, however, he suppressed the urge deep within him.

How would the people of Adarlan react if the knew their prince, king to be, was a magic user.

His hands grip the railings as his eyes darken, unwavering with determination. His dark brown hair shifting slightly as the breeze blows it around. His royal attire feeling awfully like a cage ever since he unlocked his powers of wind, ice and shapeshifting. It was no secret that he knew he was powerful, he just lacked control of his powers.

He doesn’t say anything as he feels the presence of someone behind him. However, his hands loosen from the railing as he turns around to face the woman. The Queen of The Witches stares at him.

“I thought you said you’d be away for longer, I didn’t accept your journey to be cut short.” He says as Dorian finally turns to face the queen.