• Rebellious Pawn

    The red haired young man looked at his reflection in the rippling waters. A deep cut scared his left cheek as well as a cut above his right eye. Two scars crossing each side of his lips and red mark split right through his left white eye. He looked dead pan at the water, no emotion showing through his face.

    "How much longer can I take this?" he thought, dunking his head underneath the water. As he pulled back out, the door to his small room creaked open, only to be followed by the steps of leather boots. He grumbled to himself, stepping out of his bathroom. The devil's smirk was burning a hole into his face.

    "How is my lovely Surai doing this fine morning?" asked Prince Abrin, lies dripping from every word. You could practically feel the venom of it sliding off his tongue. Surai shook his head dry, running a hand through it. He didn't even ask anymore, he always knew what the Prince wanted when he bugged Surai.

    "I need a favor of you, my dear friend." Surai began pulling his cloak over his pale naked torso. Prince Abrin had always loved the look of his vampire like skin. "I need you to go into the village. Find and capture the old Teller Woman. Shouldn't be too difficult, right Surai?" His snowy orbs closed. He didn't want to hear anymore.

    "Whatever you say, your Highness," he spat. The ebony haired prince smirked.

    "Excellent. Be quick about it. You have until the stroke of six tonight to bring her back to me. Don't fail me." With that he turned and left back into the grand halls of the castle. The white eyed man gazed at the empty door frame. "Sure thing, Royal a**," he thought, pulling the dark hood over his hair and heading out the gates.


    A thick and muggy fog had settled in the streets of the village. Surai had always hated the fog. Too dense and you could never see anything through it. He despised it. That thought aside, he looked about the shambles of the town. Peasants, merchants, children, guards, thieves, wealthy, street-rats. No Teller woman so far.

    SMACK! The red haired man stumbled backwards, wincing a tad. He growled lowly and glanced around. He looked on the ground where a cloaked figure lay, it's arm holding an object tightly to it's chest. His eyes scanned them, when he spotted a glinting symbol on their finger.

    "Hey! Stop that girl!" shouted voices far behind. Suddenly, a gust blew past Surai as the figure disappeared. He watched as she escaped their clutches. As the guards approached him, he was greeted ever so kindly with a smack to the face. He brushed it off. "Stupid peasant! You let that thief get a-" Both guards stared wide-eyed at the man before them. They dropped to their knees.

    "Forgive us Surai! We didn't recognize you! Please, have mercy on us!" hollered the men. The white orbed man rolled his eyes, continuing on his way. He was in far too good mood for anything to ruin it. Especially the stupidity of the royal guards. "Fools," he thought.


    It was high noon and still no sign of his target. He began to give up, not really caring if he failed his 'mission' or not. What the prince said was never more important than a lie. His eyes wandered lazily, not really sure where he was. Just knew that he wasn't anywhere near the Lying Prince Abrin. He couldn't stand that brat.

    "I can see your future young man," whispered a voice. Surai's eyes opened. The Teller Woman. He walked ahead a little quicker. His eyes moving back and forth, scanning the streets for the voice's owner. His cloak was suddenly tugged on. He whipped around only to see the old woman. "I can see your future young man."

    Surai was about to speak when the old woman grabbed his wrist, leading him into an ancient abandoned shop. The interior was dim, barely lit by the sunlight coming through the cracks in the wood. Oddly shaped bottles, a cauldron, a few skulls, and a crystal ball still occupied the habitat. The old woman lead him to the counter, herself taking a seat behind it.

    "Show me your hand, boy," she whispered. The pawn held out his pale white hand to the Teller. She trailed her boney finger over his palm, her eyes darting over it curiously. A silence lingered in the air. "Interesting," murmured the old woman, a lock of her silver hair falling from her hood. Surai raised his brow. The Teller's eyes fixed themselves on the pawn's face.

    "Your life line isn't long. But your love line . . . " She paused a moment, glancing back down at the line of his palm. " . . . your love line might just save your soul." Surai's face was blank.

    "What do you mean?" he asked. A smirk came onto the woman's wrinkled face.

    "Your fate will change Surai."