Season 1 of The Gilded Throne
After the war, the Elven Queen rose to power by declaring peace. Centuries later, an ancient magic emerged. Now Izogie and her friends must race to the north to reveal the truth behind the Mysterious War.
*****
The Arca...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
FERISHA
"Hey, asshole," Ferisha muttered. "There's something I can't figure out."
"That's a fuckin' understatement?" Nico whispered in contempt as he surveyed what was left of the King's body.
"Why is the king dead in a cage with golems?"
Rhegon lay on the floor with his arms folded behind his head and his eyelids drawn shut. "Maybe he prefers him that way." He spoke calmly, completely untroubled by the rotten stench of death a klick away from his boots. It was daunting how peacefully a man could be in a barren cell with most of the floor ripped to shreds. All thanks to the skeleton that laid at his feet, festering in the corner with flies and maggots.
He wasn't just some raggedy pile of bones with no guts and brains; the fucker was a deathspawn. He wasn't the type of monster where mothers reassured their children with bedtime stories. The ones where some scrawny ass elf vanquished the evil. No, he was the bastard that dug deep inside their warm bellies and consumed their flesh. Then he touched the grieving woman, and her beautiful skin had the appearance of an old wrinkled buzzard. Except pieces of her flesh dropped the same way boiled chicken fell off the bone.
When she tried to turn him, he grabbed her by the throat and twisted her head clean off. That's the kind of man Rhegon was, not the fool that became a monster. He was the father who came at the last second and still chopped his wife's head off. Then kept fighting until he saved another fool's woman and child.
Ferisha didn't trust most people, but with Rhegon she was just surviving. Even if they were both bound by death, she would always find a way to keep breathing.
Nico dragged them across the floor by their hair. "These two murdered the Prince, and if anyone helped them, then I'll bury them myself, elf or golem."
"Careful, we both know your prince was long dead before his blood spilled and his head toppled."
"I know you're an Elfete but I would've figured you wouldn't be stupid enough to believe in monsters." Nico countered.
"Careful, your Neanderthal is showing," Ferisha whispered.
Nico gritted his teeth and nodded to the other Purifiers outside. "We got two more slaves for the quarry, but be careful with this one. She's an Elfete."
"Must you antagonize them," Rhegon commented.
Four stiffs wearing white streamlined combat suits marched inside the cell with distant stares and vacant smiles. Ferisha stepped forward, sarcastically bowing her head and stretching her arms outward. She kept her gaze focused on Nico as he fastened their ghoul helms on their faces in the far corner. Silas interrupted her thoughts as his blonde hair flowed behind him like a garment made of silk. His ears were thin and pointy with long tips, a hallmark of an ancient house.
