Chapter 2

Human Colony on planet Tirron Year 2390

“I wish there were something else I could wear.” Arana sighed softly and stared at her reflection in the mirror. A pale young woman with long red hair in a white wedding gown stared back at her. Her big blue eyes looked even bigger in her gaunt face. “A dress that would cover my back. I... I don’t want the scars to show,” she said bitterly.

“My lady, they have healed really fast. But don’t you worry, I will let your gorgeous hair loose,” the maid said gently. “It will cover up your back perfectly.”

Arana was tired of the wedding charade. Today was one of those days when she missed her father even more than usual. It had been a year since King William Lorcan Blackwell III passed away. Although she was his bastard child, the King was always kind to her and she had lived in the castle all her life. The day her halfbrother Lorcan IV took the throne, her life had become a living hell. He loathed everything about her – even her very presence. And he hated the gift she was born with: the power of healing herself and others. So, she became the victim of his wrath every time. The scars on her back were evidence of that. It was almost a week since she was last punished. Her wounds healed faster than a normal human’s would.

Lorcan had come home from his travels a few days back. He had been constantly pestering her that this time, she had better marry the man he had selected for her or he would take her head. It would be the tenth time she was going to be paraded as a bride to be sold off like some goat to a tribal clan. All the other times, the prospective husbands had mysteriously ended up dead on the wedding day. The king blamed Arana for their deaths. As punishment, he would torture her and she would end up with twenty to fifty lashes on her back.

Arana wrung her hands nervously. She feared tonight would be the same as all the other times. The prospective groom would somehow die, and she would end up in the torture cell. She had come to fear Lorcan’s wrath and she wished she could escape it all. But where would she go? She had tried running away from the castle, but she got caught and ended up in the torture cell.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as the maid did her hair. Her fingers lightly brushed the dark green stone hung by a gold chain at her neck. Her father had given it to her when she was thirteen. He had said it was her mother’s. A mother she never knew. He didn’t like talking about her at all.

Tears threatened to spill over as she took a shuddering breath. She was angry at the gods for putting her through such an ordeal.

“You are ready, my lady,” the maid smiled. “The King brought back a new prisoner the other day. He’ll be fighting in the Death Pit tomorrow.”

“Another lamb to be sacrificed for his blood sport,” Arana said disgustedly. She was sick of the King and his foolish arena. He was spending recklessly to buy gladiators from all over the galaxy while the kingdom was in chaos.

“It appears that this man is not like the others, my Lady. My sister told me she saw him yesterday,” the maid said.

“Oh really?” The lack of interest was showing in Arana’s voice. She stood up and walked over to the window. She wasn’t interested in knowing about the prisoners her brother brought home.

“He is really tall and strong... and very good looking.”

“Is he human?”

“Apparently, yes, but I think he is something much more,” the maid said gleefully.

Arana rolled her eyes and turned to gaze out the window. The light from the two moons lit up the garden below. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees every now and then. Planet Tirron – also called ‘the new Earth’ – was very much like the old one, which humans had left a few centuries back because of overpopulation. It was a human colony which had evolved into a cultural center. People from many different races and planets visited it, some even settling here.

Arana took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her migraine was returning. She felt a bit dizzy and sat down again. She wouldn’t let him get to her this time... No. She had had enough. She almost had a plan ready... Almost. She just hoped it would work.

***

The hall was getting crowded as Lorcan’s men drank and talked. The expected party of guests had not arrived yet. Arana sat in the far corner at the table near the throne with her handmaids. She was good at appearing calm and composed – a thing she had learned over the years in her father’s court. Yet, her stomach knotted every now and then as the evening dragged on and there was no sign of the visitors. The warm lighting of the hall lit up her fiery red locks. Her ivory skin was so luminescent that she almost looked like a ghost against the white walls of the throne room.

She stole a glance at her brother. With one leg thrown casually over the marble arm of the throne and a drink in his hand, he was already drunk, getting loud and impatient. His fur cloak lay open, exposing his chest, and long dark hair fell over a face set in a permanent smirk. Some might find him attractive, but Arana saw right past his looks and into the real him. It was his eyes that gave her the chills. There was something sinister lurking beneath those dark depths... Something insane. He took another swig and caught her staring. The smirk deepened. Quickly averting her eyes and heart thudding in her chest, she took another sip of her wine.

A man in robes walked up to the King and whispered something his ear. Lorcan’s expression instantly turned murderous. “Arana!” he bellowed across the hall.

Arana almost jumped at the sudden summoning. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists as her stomach twisted. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“Arana, come here!” he yelled again. The hall grew quiet as people stared at her.

She got up and slowly made her way toward him, making sure not to lose composure. All eyes were fixed on her, and people started to whisper. Her long white gown trailed behind her, softly rustling as she moved.

She walked up to the throne and stopped short folding her hands in front of her, trying to keep them from shaking. “Yes, your highness?” she spoke softly.

“Where are our guests?” he demanded, as if it were Arana’s fault they were late.

“I do not know,” she said calmly, although her throat felt dry and she dared not look him in the eye.

“You lying whore!” he seethed through clenched teeth. “It’s the magic working here. I know it’s your doing,” he slurred as he pointed a finger at her. Paranoia was taking over, she observed.

“I don’t know magic, Lorcan,” she said, suddenly tired. “I only heal the wounded.”

“It’s dark magic. I can smell it on you!” He glared at her.

She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes blazing as she finally met his gaze. “What you think is dark magic is a gift I was born with. And I mean no harm.”

“I don’t trust you, whore,” he said with pure loathing. “Get her out of my sight! Lock her up!”

Two guards who stood nearby stepped forward and grabbed her arms.

“No! NO! Get your hands off me!” Alana cried, tears welling in her beautiful eyes as they dragged her out of the hall. The lockup meant another round of punishment. She wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time. She was sick of the humiliation and victimization.

The guards walked in front of her, down the long hallway. Quietly, she slipped her hands beneath the folds of her dress, where she had hidden the two cylindrical devices that looked like lipstick. They contained a fluid that worked as a tranquilizer. She had stolen them from the castle’s sick ward with the help of her maids. Without warning, she stabbed the devices into the neck of both the guards from behind.

Both men jolted to a stop and fell immediately to the floor, unconscious. They would be out for hours. Arana took a flashlight from one of the guards, quickly gathering her dress. She ran toward the end of the hallway. She made her way down the stairs toward the basement. Once she reached it, she stood in front of a tapestry and, pulling it aside, pressed her hand against the stone wall. The wall shifted and slid sideways, leaving enough space for a man to enter. It was an old passageway that led down into the dungeons. And it wasn’t monitored. She had discovered it years ago when she was a child and wandered the hallways playing hide and seek.

The passageway was dark. Arana turned on the flashlight as she descended the stairs. At the end of the staircase was a door she prayed would not be locked. Luckily, it was open, so she pushed through and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. It was cold down here, and she saw the cells with their locked doors. Most of them were empty except for a few gladiator slaves her brother had kept for his blood sport – warrior slaves who fought in the Death-pit during the day. There were no guards there as the security system was powerful and prisoners were securely chained and locked. There was no escape.

The cold didn’t bother her, and she wasn’t scared. It was better down here as it was quiet and she could stay hidden away from Lorcan’s wrath for a while. She knew Lorcan was drunk when he gave the orders and he wouldn’t remember a thing the next day. So in the morning, she would be back in her room and nobody would dare say a thing. Meanwhile, she could think of a way of getting out of the castle.

She slowly made her way toward the far end of the hall. Her stomach knotted again. Since their father’s death, she could no longer go out into the city to heal the sick and wounded as Lorcan had restricted her leaving the castle. She had to find a way to get out.

Arana took a deep breath and was about to turn back and find a place to sit when she noticed the door to the cell on her left was slightly ajar.

Strange that it wasn’t locked... The hall was silent except for the distant grunts from the cells at the other end. She held the flashlight higher and peeped inside the cell.

At first, she couldn’t see anything in the dim light. She heard heavy breathing, and the stench of blood mixed with the smell of mold on the dank walls welcomed her.

And then she saw him... the prisoner.

His arms and ankles were in shackles as he was almost suspended in the air, half-conscious. Long chains linked to his manacles were attached to the ceiling and wall behind him. His silver-white hair matted to a handsome face that was marred with wounds. And the horns that grew out of his forehead and elegantly twisted back caught her attention. He wasn’t human.

He wore only leather pants and her heart skipped a beat as her eyes wandered over the taut sinew of his bare chest, his olive skin, and the way his pants hung over his hips. Beneath the several wounds inflicted upon him, she could see how strong he was, even after the torture he had endured.

She held the lamp up and walked toward him. And then she saw the dark leathery wings at his back and gasped, stopping short.

She brought the light nearer to take a closer look at his face.

His head hung to one side and, with his shallow breathing, he seemed to be in pain. The breathing clip he wore on his nostrils didn’t help. He had a translator fixed behind his ear. An iron collar dug into his neck. She winced, as she saw the deep gashes on his muscular chest. The deep cut at his rib was already beginning to rot.

Arana let out a ragged sigh. She felt sorry for this man. Her brother was a monster. Instinctively, she reached up and her fingers lightly brushed his brow.

Suddenly, the skin of her neck grew warm and the stone she wore glowed bright green. Arana gasped and staggered backward as the stone continued to glow. The warmth she had felt seeped into her skin and a surge of energy rushed through her. Her heart was thudding in her chest.

What was happening to her? That surge of energy had made her feel alive. Who was this stranger and what was he doing to her? Suddenly scared, Arana wanted to run away, but something held her back. She looked at his wounds again. The man would not survive another day in the Pit. She couldn’t leave him here.

She must heal him.