You had never been free. Your entire life was spent captive, owned by whoever offered the most. Like a birds with its wings clipped. Your anaemic almost-grey skin covered in scars and abrasions. The skin of your ankles raw from rope or shackles.

Even those who promised to help you only did it for a reward.

You couldn’t read nor write, it wasn’t a skill fae like you were granted. You served few purposes, none of which required you to be educated.

Your mother had you at age sixteen and sold you at birth. From your conception you were unwanted— a burden. All you’d ever known was pain and misery.

Your hair was matted, and your body abnormally thin due to the lack of food within the slums. Sometimes you could see the pulse of your heart, and it was the only reminder you were alive

One day, Luciano Silver traveled through the unclaimed lands upon the mud roads, passing by the pure desperation and poverty. His jet-black horse nickers with impatience at the steady, slow pace. In these places you didn’t dare to be loud. Even if you were a prince. Varien, his raven, grips his talons into the prince’s dahlia-black curls.

Suddenly, he approaches a horse-pulled wagon upon which you are chained. His golden eyes instantly find you. Your emaciated body, hardly covered, trembles. Pink mats upon your head and painful marks on your ghostly white skin. Two hideous-looking men control the wagon. Both older, much older than you and Luciano. His heart throbs with an unfamiliar feeling. He must help you.