Background sound: Hurt by Jonny cash
He suddenly felt very, very small. Yes, he had ESP, but the men before him could probably punch the ESP right out of his soul.
He extended his wrists in a gesture of surrender. "Kind sirs… do what you got to do. Take me. Just don't punch me again. I promise I'm all yours."
The military men blinked in surprise. This was not the rebellious prince from their intel. Not to mention the insane healing he'd just displayed. A serious interrogation was necessary.
***
Ren now sat at a bare metal table in the center of an all-white interrogation room. The sterile light gleamed off the walls. Michael and Rodger stood outside, watching him through the one-way glass.
"You know what I think the prince is... a mortal reaper," Michael murmured, his voice low.
"Oh, come on, Michael," Rodger scoffed. "You're a grown man. Don't tell me you believe those myths."
"No, think about it," Michael insisted. "Reality is relative. One man's myth is another's reality. You can't say blindness doesn't exist just because you're not blind. You saw it yourself. The way he came back from death."
"Where's my brother?" a new voice interrupted—sharp, confident, and cutting through their debate like a blade.
Natasha Vaelthorn stood there. To the world, she was breathtakingly beautiful and dressed in formal attire that screamed authority. But beneath the surface, a familiar anger simmered. It was a feeling Ren's original self had cultivated in her for years.
Their rivalry had once been normal, almost fond. But as they grew, he became a poison in their home. His presence soured every joy. Their parents had moved the family to a secluded estate, hoping to shield him from the brutal competition of the palace. But it failed. He still had to train daily as per the king's instructions, and each session was a fresh humiliation. He lagged behind the other princes, and with every defeat, a seed of hatred grew. He blamed their parents for their "weak" genes. He hated the royal system.
And he hated Natasha most of all because she excelled effortlessly. His pride was shattered, his ego a festering wound.
"Sure, he's had a rough history," Natasha thought, steeling herself before entering. "But that is no excuse for the atrocities he's committed." She had seen the media buzz that morning. "Prince Ren to face Royal Trial." "Prince Martin and Princess Charlotte raised the king of Thieves." The anger she felt seeing her parents dragged through the mud was a physical burn. She didn't doubt his guilt for a second. Ren was the personification of evil.
She needed to vent, and who better than the cause of it all?
When Ren saw his visitor, he was momentarily mesmerized by her sharp beauty. But the air around her crackled with fury.
*Is she angry?*
As if to answer his question, her hand flashed. A stinging slap landed squarely on his cheek, whipping his head to the side with a force that made his freshly healed neck scream in protest. He swore he felt the vertebrae groan.
Eyes wide with horror, he turned back to look at her, the left side of his face already swelling and burning.
You too?! Ren felt like crying. Why does everyone here hit like a freight train?!
Without a hint of remorse, Natasha sat down opposite him, tossing her handbag on the table and crossing her arms over her chest, a queen on a throne of righteous anger.
"What's wrong with you, Ren?" she demanded, her voice cold. "How much do you want Father and Mother to suffer for your actions?"
"Mother? Father?... Are you my sister?" Ren mumbled, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his voice thick with genuine, stinging pain.
Michael and Rodger raised an eyebrow in perfect, synchronized confusion from behind the glass.
Natasha blinked, thrown off balance. She had expected a fight, a torrent of insults. Not this... this confused vulnerability. What kind of act was this?
Ren saw her hesitation and seized the opening. This was his way out. He could build a new story from here. He was set to face a trial and he had seen some people use the excuse that they "didn't recall."
"I'm sorry, whoever you are," he said, letting his voice waver with convincing confusion. "You seem upset about something I did, and I'm deeply sorry… It seems I've lost my memories. I can't recall anything other than what happened today. I woke up, got dressed, and then… a punch. These officers brought me here. They said I have a court hearing. Can you please tell me what I did?"
Perfect.
Natasha was too stunned to speak. The person before her looked like Ren, but the person she knew was gone. Had he truly lost his memories?
"I don't know if you're playing a trick on me," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing, "but I'll play along. You, Ren Vaelthorn, stole something. An artifact—a pair of chains. And here in the Fourth Kingdom, theft is a serious offence, punishable by public execution. The king himself, your grandfather, will issue the sentence. He is the most ruthless judge in existence. There is no mercy, even for his own family."
She paused, studying him. Why was he suddenly smiling?
Meanwhile, in the depths of Ren's mind, a cold terror took root.
SHTT!!! Public execution = public signal = an army of mortal reapers hunting me = actual, final death!*
Why does this world want me dead before I've even seen it?
The king? How much stronger is he if these army brats can kill me with a single punch?
He had three days. Three days to lose his life permanently.
Ren swallowed hard, the smile on his face a fragile mask over a bottomless pit of dread.
***
The next three days in confinement were a blur of strategy and silent conversation with his unwanted passenger. Ren learned the chains' true name: "The Cursed Chains of Nights' Embrace." And he learned their true purpose, a revelation that made him dread the day they would be used. He had been afraid of mortal reapers not realizing he wore material ones on his arms. They could suck his soul aware and deliver it to the Soul Devourer at his command.
He realized if the Soul Reaper had such a strong hold on him, he needed his ESP abilities now more than ever. Unfortunately, he faced major resistance and had no progress at all. Faced with a road block in that area. He chose to explore the abilities the chains had to offer.
***
On the day of the trial, Ren sat in the back of an SUV, his hands cuffed with special metal that sapped his strength. Though restrained, his mind never stopped working.
*Can my ESP get me out of this? Even if they could, I haven't mastered them yet.*
The doors opened to chaos. A storm of flashing cameras and shouted accusations assaulted him. "Thief! Filthy prince! Murderer! Rapist!"
The crowd's hatred was a physical force. They began to throw things. A guard raised his hand and stopped a rock that was meant to hit his head.
*Wow,* Ren thought, a strange guilt twisting in his chest. *Natasha didn't tell me just how evil this bratty prince was. His family must be utterly ashamed.* If he had a family, he would never subject them to this. If he survived, he would right this demon's wrongs.
He was led into the courthouse, and the noise was replaced by a heavy, crushing pressure from the auras of the powerful figures in the gallery. Among them, he saw his new family. Natasha. A couple who looked burdened by the world—Martin and Charlotte. And a young girl, maybe thirteen, who flinched when his gaze met hers.
*Is she afraid of me?*
He was forced to stand in the center of the room, facing an empty throne.
A trumpet blared announcing the arrival of the king then suddenly the pressure pressing down on Ren increased a hundred fold, like the sun's gravity had converged on his head, forcing him to buckle to the ground.
"Arise," a voice commanded, a whisper heard by every soul in the hall.
As everyone rose, Ren struggled, managing only to get to his knees. The pressure was immense. He slowly, painfully, lifted his gaze, taking in the figure on the throne from the boots up. He was muscular, powerful... and looked no older than thirty.
"WHAT THE HELL?!!!!" Ren exclaimed, shock overriding all survival instinct. "You can't be my grandfather!!!!!!!!!!"
A thick, horrified silence swallowed the court.
"You know if you don't love your life that much boy, I can take your soul here and now," came the Soul Devourer's voice, pulling him out of his shock, the full weight of his error settling in- a blatant expression of disrespect for the king. He felt like burying his head in the ground like an ostrich.
The king's eyes narrowed. The invisible weight on Ren intensified once more. Ren felt his ribs crack, blood spraying from his lips as he was driven harder into the floor.
*The man can do this with a look?!* he thought, terror seizing him.
This was it. He knew that once he was convicted, his arms would be cut off and the chains retrieved. He'd be thrown away, alive but defenseless, for any mortal reaper to find and devour.
I guess this is it....
Only a miracle could save him now.