the kingdom of Enamore is mysterious. the land is separated from its neighboring kingdoms and cities by a vast, deep ocean, with lurking monsters below the crashing waves. the people there are perfect. tall with pale skin. beautiful faces and lips are all one would see. enchanting gowns, beautiful music, terrible royalty. their kingdom is full of songs, tricks and beauty. one could get lost before even entering. the king is a terrible and beautiful man. his children are worse. he has 10 heirs. his youngest is the most controversial. he is hated by the older generations of Enamore. they believe his head belongs on a stick ( it probably does ). but he is in high demand when it comes to the younger, more driven subjects.

Caine sat in a perfectly carved throne, made from the trunk of a dead willow tree. the throne sat at the end of the long line of beautiful seats for his siblings and parents, all whom he hated with all his dead heart. his raven feather cape laid behind him on the chair. his haunting golden eyes focused on the crowded ball before him. the gowns were flowery, the faces were sour, the music was tempting. it didn’t matter how beautifully terrible the ball was. he was to drunk to care. he was always drunks. always. he loved and hated it. but he didn’t care. he had no cares at all. Enamore was perfect. it should’ve been. if it wasn’t for one person.