Freedom Through Loss

Freedom Through Loss 

Taegan Hyland 

In a cluster of realms, there existed a realm which held a kingdom named Ferreira. Ferreira was a famed kingdom of amassed riches and luxurious livings, and was governed by the benevolent King Dusk and the captivating Queen Ruby, along with their son, Prince Damon. Ferreira was viewed through the eyes of the realms as an enthralling kingdom and multitudes yearned to be a part, however, it imprisoned a tragic secret lurking in the shadows of the alleyways and sewers. 

While King Dusk and Queen Ruby were seen as virtuous in heart, they were harboring a secret within their very own son. Prince Damon was recognized widely throughout the realms as a heartthrob by the young women, and a hero for the young men. He was the chief commander of Ferreria’s Royal Guard, and ever since, he won every battle against any enemy realms who dared challenge Ferreira. But his accomplishments were not due to his sheer talent or brilliance: when Prince Damon was but a babe, his parents forced a young woman to secretly cast a protection and strength spell on his hair, and afterwards they slaughtered the woman. As long as his hair would grow, it created such a strong aura of power that not only did Damon benefit, but the King and Queen gained strength from it. 

King Dusk and Queen Ruby accepted that their secret was safe between the two of them, but Prince Damon had learned about this secret through accident while eavesdropping over a conservation between his parents in a hallway, and it petrified him - the thought that his parents kept him only due to his hair caused him to be stricken with alarm. What would they do if they found out he knew? Would they cut his hair and kill him? Prince Damon desired to run away, but he knew the feat was impossible - the realms were cut off from each other and could only be entered through a portal casted by a witch - who were banned from Ferreira. Ever since that day, Prince Damon accepted that he was stuck in Ferreira as his parents’ forever weapon, not their son.

Although Prince Damon was stranded in Ferreira, he did find some forms of freedom in the kingdom. Every half moon, he had a tradition of taking his horse out to the Moonshine Forest, and galloping through the trees. The feeling of the wind on his face with the peaceful nature of his surroundings always assured him that there were slivers of hope in the world somewhere. On one particular half moon, Prince Damon took his regular route - scaling down the walls from his window, sneaking to the stable, quietly mounting his horse, and riding out through a hidden hole of the castle wall. As he rode through the pines, basking in the brisk wind cutting through his luxurious locks, his horse suddenly reared and neighed, sharply throwing him off. Prince Damon hit the forest floor, but quickly sprang up and quieted down his horse while scanning the dark surroundings. 

“Psst”

Prince Damon snapped his head around to his left.

“Who is there?” He questioned. 

“Follow the light” a small, raspy voice answered.

Prince Damon squinted his brow, and to his surprise, a small white flame appeared three feet ahead of him, barely lighting a narrow path. He had never seen this path before, but he tied his horse to a nearby tree, armed himself with a dagger, and cautiously approached the quivering flame. Just as he was about to make contact with the flame, it dissipated into the air and another one appeared another three feet ahead. Prince Damon walked towards it faster, and the flame repeated its actions. As Prince Damon followed down the path of the flame, the trees eventually were replaced with shrubs, the leafy floor was swapped with a sandy gravel, and the smell of wet leaves turned into the smell of salt. Suddenly, the flame completely disappeared and another one did not appear. Prince Damon looked around and to his shock there lay in front of him a strip of sand with a small shack towards his right. After the sand, there was an expanse of nothing but water. Beautiful, dark, nearly black waves crashed onto the sand, and retreated back; the blackness reflecting a clear picture of the half-moon and a sprinkle of stars. 

Prince Damon made his way towards the shack, and rapped the sadly held together door. Moments later, the door creaked open. Prince Damon peered inside and could barely make out a hooded figure crouching near a dancing fire, stirring an enormous pot hanging over the flames. 

“Hello?” Prince Damon said, his voice echoing in the small room. The hooded figure continued to stir, but motioned for him to come in. As he entered, the door moaned behind him, closing firmly, and he walked towards the figure. As he neared the figure, he inhaled scents of rosemary and parsley from the pot, along with a tinge of something he could not figure. “Who are you?” He inquired.

The figure turned around slowly, to reveal a breathtaking young woman, around the same age as Prince Damon. Her eyes were alike sparkling embers, reflecting the fire’s flames, her lips were two rose petals, and her face was of milk. 

“Hello Prince Damon,” she purred, her voice vibrating. Prince Damon was taken aback by her beauty, and forgot how to speak for a moment. After regaining his voice, he shook his head.

“Who… who are you? Why did you send the flames? And… and why are you living all the way out here?” He spoke in a rush. The woman put her finger to her lips and her eyes darted around the shack. 

“There is not enough time to explain everything… but my Prince… you are destined for so much more,” she replied. The woman suddenly stood up from her stool and grabbed a glass flask from a bag lying next to her. She removed her hood, and to Prince Damon’s shock, her wispy white locks were braided into a crown at the nape of her neck - the symbol of a witch.

“You- you’re a witch!” He gasped. “But- I thought- your kind was banned from Ferreira!” The woman turned to smirk at Prince Damon and his reaction, but put her attention back to the now boiling pot. 

“You see, ‘our kind’ used to thrive within Ferreira,” she said in a soft tone. “Your mother and father, Prince Damon, were benevolent to us. We were to serve them and in return they honored us with the utmost respect. As witches, our duty was to protect the kingdom.” The woman sighed and her voice hardened. “We put our lives on the line everyday in wars and on the streets, but as soon as you were born, the King and Queen had no need of us. They forgot of our services and quickly banished us. They threatened us that if we did not leave this realm to another, they would hunt us down and kill us.” As she set her spoon down, the woman quickly brushed a tear from her porcelain cheek. “My… my sister was slaughtered when they came and hunted us down, even though we agreed to leave the following half-moon. They killed her in front of my face. And I fled to here. I cast a spell so nobody can see this land unless I allow them to, and I have lived here for fourteen years, conserving my story until the time was right.”  

Prince Damon sat in silence, stunned by her story. Before he could utter any words of sorrow and sympathy, the woman started to chant unintelligible words. It was a melody of fragments, and the melody swirled the liquid in the pot. The woman swept her hand over the pot, and Prince Damon witnessed the liquid turn from a murky brown into crystal clear. The woman glanced at Prince Damon, who was fascinated with the event. 

“Prince Damon, the reason I have uttered you here is because I have a way out. I know the power of your hair, and I know it has caused you a great burden. I want to help you. When my sister was killed, I was a coward. I could have helped her but I wanted to save my own neck. Now, I am offering you a way out - a soul in need.” She whispered into her hand, and out of thin air a pair of golden scissors appeared. “My Prince, I have created a portal. This portal will lead you to a realm where you will have a fresh start. I already have a group of citizens awaiting you to take you in. But I need one thing from you.” Prince Damon looked at the scissors and it sank in.

“You need my hair,” he said bleakly. “In order to enact the incantation.” The woman nodded solemnly. 

“It is the only source of strong enough power to create the portal,” she affirmed. “It is your decision, to lose your source of power, or to be free.”

Prince Damon ran his hair through his locks. Ever since a young boy he was told to grow his hair, and that no blade touched it, and now his life would be snipped away… but oh the new life awaiting him! No restrictions, no obligations to be everyone’s hero! Prince Damon knew he had no time to dawdle, but he knew that his hair was his only source of power and the only thing that made him stronger than an average man. But he also knew he would always be tied down by his father and mother to conquer for the good of Ferreira. 

“Take my hair,” he said firmly. “Do it before I change my mind.” The woman nodded, and waved her hand. The sound of the cutting made Prince Damon sick. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing his locks be lost, but he could not avoid the feeling of power leaving his head. The supernatural strength he used to feel was drained while his hair was being cut; it was like a cold honey being poured over his head. Before he could process that his hair was stripped away completely, the woman had stirred it into the pot and began a second incantation. It felt like a blur to Prince Damon. The guards knocking down the door. The woman forming a sword out of thin air. The guards making their way towards Prince Damon. The sound of clanging swords. The feeling of jumping in the pot, the crystal liquid seeping through his veins, the sounds of war fading, the sweet scent of herbs disappearing into a scent of nothingness. Blackness.

Prince Damon opened his eyes. A young man peered over him. “Welcome Prince Damon to Haven. We’ve been expecting you - welcome home,” he said warmly.

He was free at last.