Phal ran.
His breath came in short, frantic gasps, his heart pounding like a war drum against his ribs.
The polished floors of the palace blurred beneath him, the towering obsidian walls closing in. He had memorized this path for years, dreaming of the moment he would finally sneak into the palace.
He had been warned. By his caretaker that sneaking into the Imperial palace was not a good idea.
"No one must ever know you exist," his old caretaker had whispered to him since he was young, the fear in his voice palpable. "The moment they find you, you are dead."
And yet, here he was—defying those words.
"I don't care." His mind screamed as he pushed himself harder. "I want freedom. I want to be treated like any other humanoids! I have to find that hidden locket."
A sharp shout rang out behind him.
"Stop!"
Phal's gut twisted. He didn't dare look back, but he could hear the heavy boots thudding against the floor—getting closer.
Faster!
His muscles burned, but the guard was faster.
A powerful grip latched onto the collar of his robe, yanking him backward with brutal force. Phal choked as his feet lifted off the ground before slamming onto the cold marble.
His vision spun.
Strong fingers dug into his arms, locking him in place.
"Well, well…" the guard sneered, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "Look what we have here—a new Depa breed?"
Phal thrashed, trying to twist out of the iron grip. His pale purple skin shimmered under the dim palace lights. His antlers—gold and silver intertwined—glowed faintly. His looks, unique beyond all Depas. He had dual slit-blue pupils against a brilliant purple iris, the ends forming star-like trails.
More boots stormed toward them.
Four guards skidded to a stop. One of them cursed.
"What the hell… Is that a Depa?! He looks different!"
"I thought they were all weaklings," another muttered. "But look at him… trying hard, it makes you want to pity them."
Phal lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the guard's wrist.
"ARGH!—You little—!"
The moment the hand loosened, Phal ripped free and bolted.
But he only made it a few steps.
A burst of orange energy shot through the air from one of the guards gun.
CRACK!
The impact slammed into his back, scorching pain tearing through his spine. His body jerked violently before crashing onto the ground.
He convulsed, gasping, his fingers clawing weakly at the floor.
The guards laughed.
"Not so fast now, are you?" one of them taunted.
Another kicked him in the ribs.
Pain exploded through Phal's side. He coughed, his body curling in on itself.
"No…" He gritted his teeth. "I can't die here!"
Another blow struck his shoulder.
He bit back a scream.
One guard pressed his boot against Phal's throat, slowly applying pressure.
His vision darkened at the edges.
"Go on," one of them chuckled. "Let's see how long it takes before he stops twitching."
The laughter died instantly.
A commanding voice sliced through the air.
"Enough."
The guards froze.
Phal struggled to breathe, his body trembling in agony.
Through his blurry vision, a figure stepped forward.
King Ren Leray of the House of Solaris.
His golden eyes widened as they locked onto Phal.
Recognition flashed across his face.
Phal groaned, fighting to stay conscious.
Ren's expression darkened.
"Kill him," he ordered, his voice cold. "Once and for all."
The guard who had caught him running, took his gun and aimed on his chest, he pressed a few buttons on it and a sharp pointed bust of energy hit his chest, blood splashed from him.
He closed his eyes. Lying there motionlessly.
His caretaker, Ham, a old man with long gray hair, looked at the scene unfold. "There goes the last drop of hope we had," he said a tear dropping his eyes.
"Does this mean its the end of us?" A Depa boy asked beside him.
"Maybe, just maybe God has other plans." Ham said retreating back to the darkness walking towards their caves at the backyard of the imperial palace.
The imperial guards were stationed at every corner, every entrance of the cave. Others camped outside in the open space.
Ham stepped into the damp cave, the air thick with moisture and shadows. Inside was a vast chamber, its walls slick with moss.
Rough sleeping mats were laid out in two rows along either side of the space, leaving a narrow path between them.
Despite the advancements of the outside world, the cave was lit only by fire torches, their flames flickering against the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that mirrored the unease within.
He walked slowly toward the far end of the room, the quiet murmurs dying down as he approached.
Then he stopped, turned, and cleared his throat. The sound echoed through the chamber, drawing every eye to him.
"The prince is dead," he announced.
His voice was tight—shaking with fury, heavy with desperation, laced with fear.
Gasps rippled through the room like a sudden gust of wind. Panic set in. The women began to cry openly, their sobs rising like a mournful chorus.
The men let out weary, heavy sighs, their faces stricken with despair. It was as if, with the prince's death, the last thread of hope had snapped.
"No, no—everyone stop!" a girl called out, rising from her mat and walking toward Ham with determined strides. Her voice was steady, but her eyes burned with defiance.
"We don't have to cry. All hope is not lost. We can sneak into the Black Market, find magic staffs—buy them, or steal them if we must. Then we fight. For ourselves. For our freedom. For our future."
She looked around, trying to meet every pair of eyes. Her voice, though firm, trembled with passion.
Some stared at her as if she were mad. Others whispered, their tones dismissive and doubtful.
Ham cleared his throat again, softer this time, but still commanding attention.
"Our clan was never meant to walk the path of dark magic," he said grimly.
"I'm tired of living like this!" the girl snapped, fists clenched, her whole body trembling. "What do you expect us to do now that Phal is gone? Just keep existing in the shadows—die as slaves?"
Her anger cracked in her voice, raw and pained.
"We're just a handful of people," a male depa spoke from the shadows, his voice low. "We're trapped inside the Imperial City, surrounded by elven royals and elite military squads. Even if we try to fight... what difference can we make?"
"We can *try*," the girl shot back, rolling her eyes in frustration. "Better than sitting here, waiting to die."
"All we need is for someone to find the locket," Ham added, his tone quiet but urgent. "If it's compatible with one of us... then maybe we have a chance."
"Do you even know where in the Imperial Palace the locket is hidden?" a female depa asked sharply. "Do you have any idea how to sneak in without being caught?"
Ham's shoulders slumped, the firelight reflecting in his eyes like dying stars. He had no answer.
"Let's just get some rest," another woman said gently, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade wrapped in silk. "We'll need all our strength for tomorrow."
Reluctantly, most began settling down, wrapping themselves in thin blankets. Silence crept in once more, broken only by the occasional sniffle or shifting body.
Ham walked slowly back to his mat and sat down, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Not everyone slept that night. Some just lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in a storm of questions.
What now? What would become of them? Was there still a path forward—or had the light truly gone out?