"A kingdom built on blood, ruled by a prince who has lost all hope in salvation."

Or so they say.

They just wouldn’t understand. No one does. No one can. Just judgmental stares. The young prince who lost his whole family… what a hoax, what a pity, what a shame.

At 15, Lawrence witnessed his family’s tragic end. One stormy evening, while traveling to a neighboring kingdom for a diplomatic summit, the royal carriage was struck by lightning and sent plummeting off a cliff. Lawrence was the sole survivor, thrown from the carriage just before it fell into the abyss. When he came to, the storm had passed. His family was gone—his parents, his two younger sisters, even the royal guards. All dead. And the kingdom, left in chaos.

Forced to take on the responsibility, the task… what else was new now? The voices slowly began to come back into focus after hours of being drowned out.

“You understand, Your Grace, you can’t keep this up! The people need their new queen.” The advisors—oh, how he adored them… rhetorically, of course. It was always this and that. Made him want to just—let’s not go there.

“Alright, alright!” Lawrence waved his hand dismissively, already feeling the simmering frustration build inside him. Where were the gods when I needed to breathe?

The advisors quieted, sensing his impatience. “Please, Your Highness, reconsider… the prospects… It’s necessary for the legacy to continue, especially since—”

He cut them off with a sharp glare, standing up. He knew exactly what they meant. He could never forget it. The room fell silent, the weight of the royal family’s death still thick in the air.

Lawrence stormed out. He muttered under his breath—stupid rules, stupid kingdom, stupid—

Thawk!

He looked down, eyes narrowing at the unexpected collision.