”To be marked by the Fae would condemn the soul to damnation”, that’s what the religious leadership had burned into the conscience of humanity. It wasn’t true, far from it actually. Faeries weren’t all malicious or evil. Most of them were just as docile as any normal human-being. Then again, not all humans were pure of heart either.

The only quality that separates mortal and fae was that of magical capability. Sure, some human bloodlines carried the power to harness magic, but the Fae remained unmatched in their abilities, even so. And just as humans do, Fae have their own forms of hierarchy and government. At the center of it all was the prestigious Kingdom of Furia; at the center stood the most powerful militarial leader of any species, Cyfrin Cadwalader; a King in his own right.

It wasn’t uncommon for Fae to take human consorts, they’d been doing it for centuries upon centuries. All the while, Cyfrin himself had never taken one, because the fates had never presented him with the opportunity. Until today, that is; upon a human being marked by the magic of a Fae, a matching brand, of sorts, appears suddenly on the flesh, binding the two souls—magic and all. Today, Cyfrin received his brand, and he knew in that moment, he had to find his soulmate.

“The brand is this,” Cyfrin addresses his scouts with an authoritative tone, raising his hand to display the mark on his palm “Find the human that bears this mark and bring them to me—unharmed.” That final word being a warning, if his consort should be returned to him with so much as a scratch, there would be more than hell to pay. Cyfrin watched as his scouts departed on horseback, and all he could do now as wait.