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It had been a long day's journey for Cassandra as she neared the kingdom of Stormhold. This land, unknown to her home of Corona, felt like as good a place as any to seek out her destiny. Twilight settled over the marketplace as she arrived. The place bustled with life, but something about it unsettled her—sellers hawked strange wares, and one stand even displayed preserved eyeballs in glass jars.
She pushed through the crowd, hoping to find a tavern to rest her tired bones. But halfway through the square, a flash of yellow caught her eye. A caravan—a striking sight against the dimming sky. Cassandra found herself drawn toward it.
A woman with red hair stood at the front, calling for someone to take over her stall. Her voice was sharp, as though the years had worn away at her kindness. "I don't deal with time-wasters or floozies," she sneered, before shouting, "Hey! Get out here and tend this stall. I'm off to the Slaughter Prince for a pint."
As the woman marched off, Cassandra's gaze fell on the boy who had appeared in her stead. Tall, lean, and tanned, he caught her eye immediately. His cinnamon-colored hair framed his face, and his crimson eyes seemed to see more than just the world around him. There was something about him—something familiar—but Cassandra couldn't place it. She felt the oddest tug in her chest.
He flashed her a flirty grin. "Do you see anything you like, miss?" he asked in a tone both composed and charming.
She flushed, caught off guard by the easy smile. "Um, I suppose the blue ones?" She gestured toward some wild hyacinth.
His smile grew, though it seemed to hide something deeper. "I wouldn’t get those. The snowdrop would be better. It brings good fortune."
Cass tilted her head, intrigued. "Okay, then. I’ll take the snowdrop. How much is it?"
“A kiss,” he said, voice light but serious.
“A kiss?” she laughed, but it wasn’t entirely playful. “You flirt with every girl who passes?”
“No,” he answered softly, shaking his head. “I’m often tied to the caravan, and my mistress doesn’t care much for me socializing.” He paused, looking down at the ground. “She keeps me bound here.”
“Enslaved?” Cassandra asked quietly, heart dropping at the implication.
He nodded. “Yes. I’m bound to her by this chain,” he pointed to an elegant but unmistakable chain around his ankle, and Cassandra’s breath hitched.
His words hung in the air as he began to speak of his past. “My great-grandparents were rulers of a prosperous kingdom. They were descendants of a fallen star, gifted with beauty, magic, and immortality. The kingdom thrived for many years until the radicals came. They targeted me—my mother, a princess, gave birth to me, but those who opposed the peaceful reign tried to end us all.”
He met her gaze, the depth of pain in his eyes clear. “They failed to kill me, but they captured me. I was meant to be sacrificed. However, my mistress’s husband—he was a pacifist—convinced her to spare me. He raised me as his son.”
The words faded, replaced by a silence that stretched too long. “But when he died four years ago, I was left completely at her mercy,” he finished softly. “I’m not a prince anymore, just a slave.”
Cassandra’s heart ached. There was a familiarity to his story—something in her own past that echoed his pain. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself. “Is there any way I can help you?” she asked, eyes determined.
He looked away, shaking his head. “No, there are only two ways I can be freed: Either she dies or she chooses to release me. But neither seems likely.”
She looked at the woman—the “mistress”—and her words were quiet but fierce. “She doesn't look like she’ll be around much longer.”
His laugh was bitter. "That’s only because she hasn't drained me yet today."
“Drained you?” Cassandra asked, her stomach turning.
He explained, his tone steady even as it cut through her like ice. “To steal the power of those like me, descendants of stars, they need to drink a potion made from our blood. It’s the price of immortality.” He showed her the marks of countless bloodlettings on his arm.
Cassandra’s resolve hardened. “No one should live like that. Not you. Not anyone. I’ll help you,” she said, her voice firm.
“Thank you.” His eyes softened as he looked at her, though doubt lingered there. “But... what’s your name?”
“Cassandra,” she replied, her cheeks flushing.
“Michael,” he said. And just like that, the air between them felt more real.
Later that evening, Cassandra ventured to the tavern, making her way to the bar where the bartender and the bouncer could tell her more about Sally and her treatment of Michael. The details she gathered confirmed her suspicions—the woman’s cruelty, her debts, her black magic. Sally wasn’t just a slave owner; she was a woman with too many secrets, and Cassandra was determined to bring them to light.
Cass prepared herself for a high-stakes poker game—a challenge that would force Sally to finally honor her debts. With a few clever tricks and a touch of her own confidence, she won. Sally, humiliated and enraged, confessed to everything, and the guards were quick to arrest her.
As Michael’s freedom was secured, he turned to Cassandra, gratitude in his eyes. He explained that he had to return to his family at the royal palace, a journey that would take two weeks. Without hesitation, Cassandra agreed to escort him.
On the journey, they bonded further—over shared laughter, stories, and mutual respect. Michael cared deeply for animals, and during their travels, they saved a fox kit from a snake bite. It was a gesture that showed her the depth of his kindness. The fox became his companion, and he named it Kit.
As the days passed, Cassandra felt a connection to him that she couldn’t explain. She shared her own story, everything from her past to the mistakes she’d made. Michael didn’t judge her; instead, he told her that everyone deserved a second chance, a chance to grow.
As they finally arrived at Stormhold’s palace, Cassandra couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t want to leave him. The royal family, grateful for her role in freeing Michael, invited her to stay with them. For the next year, Cassandra wrote letters to her sister Rapunzel, her heart wrestling with the feelings she’d developed for Michael.
In that time, she realized that what she felt wasn’t just admiration. It was love. And by the end of the year, Michael had fallen in love with her too.
They wed, and a year and a half later, they welcomed their daughter, Opal, into the world. At last, Cassandra knew she had found the destiny she’d been seeking—a life filled with love, purpose, and a family of her own.