Chapter Text
The day was buzzing more than usual.
Golden light streamed through the towering windows of the castle’s great hall. White marble gleamed underfoot, polished so thoroughly that every guest’s reflection danced upon it. Banners fluttered in the high rafters, embroidered with the kingdom’s crest.
It was the prince’s sixth birthday.
He was a radiant young boy, dressed in pale brocade, golden strands catching the light, crimson eyes bright as he chattered to his mother upon the ivory throne.
The celebrations were well underway with dignitaries from faraway lands, nobles draped in silks, and proud citizens from the heart of the capital —
Until a heavy chill slipped into the hall, like fog creeping beneath a door.
Heads turned as the main doors groaned open without herald or announcements. Conversation faltered in way of heavy, deliberate footsteps.
A tall, cloaked figure parted through the crowd. Their garb was neither of court nor commoner—loose cloak, dark, tattered folds, threads of desert sand clinging to the hems. No country crest.
It was clear where the intruder originated.
The cursed hinterlands beyond their walls.
The startled guards rushed forward with spears drawn—but they collapsed instantly, eyes fluttering shut as a pulse of unseen power radiated out.
The party gasped and recoiled.
The figure continued forward, unbothered, until they stood directly before the dais. A wooden mask, carved smoothly, concealed the intruder’s face.
Their gaze lifted, settled—
On the young prince.
The boy peeked out of his mother’s protective hold, curious eyes fixed on the figure.
“Welcome, traveler,” the King broke the silence, his voice calm, placating even in the disorder. “You are… from the Moors? Be at ease, please—”
“Yes. I am from the Moors.”
The stranger’s voice cut sharp and cold, pitched, almost distorted.
“And every other guest here... is not.”
The King began to step down, but the Grand Vizier moved ahead of him, heavy robes billowing. “This is a royal celebration. You are not welcome here, outsider. Leave.”
The intruder scoffed in return. He looked around slowly, surveying the trembling courtiers, the nobles, the merchants, the foreign envoys.
“I will. I did not come for pleasantries. Nor for your cakes and empty smiles. I simply came to offer a blessing.”
“We do not require gifts from your kind,” the Vizier seethed.
The masked man tilted his head. “That was not a request.”
A second round of guards advanced—but again, they fell into an enchanted sleep without even a cry. More whispers broke among the guests, footsteps rushing back.
“Please, traveler,” the King said gently, “cease this turbulence. My sincerest apologies—”
“Apologies?” the intruder echoed. “What for? I am giving this child the gift of life.”
The wooden mask turned to the boy. Crimson eyes blinked back.
“He shall have it all. Riches. Influence. Intellect. He will grow loved by all who meet him.”
“That's—that's very kind—”
“—But.”
The intruder’s voice hardened.
“As your kingdom forgoes life itself, so too shall your heir taste its decay. Upon the day he takes the crown, death shall claim him."
The room erupted in horrified murmurs as a handful of dust scattered in the air—glowing, falling around the dais like green embers. It would have been beautiful, if not for what had just transpired.
“No!” The Queen cried.
“Traveler, if there are grievances, let us speak of it—”
“My King, do not plead to someone from the Moors,” hissed the Vizier.
But the King continued, beseeching. “My son is innocent. May you have compassion—”
“Compassion?” The voice behind the mask cracked briefly with bitterness. “Where was compassion when you left our kind with but our magic and our dead?”
The Vizier snapped sharply. “Your kind was not blameless!”
“Wait!” The Queen clutched her child. “I ask for mercy. Curse me, instead. My son had no part in the conflict.”
The air around the room seemed to chill.
“The children of the Moors had no part in the conflict.”
The masked gaze returned to the small boy—fragile, confused, his small lips trembling. But even then, the boy did not cry. Only looked at his palm, where a green hue emanated.
“Perhaps I will give you compassion,” decided the intruder, as if it were an afterthought, “as your King so kindly asked.”
The chamber held its breath.
“The prince may be saved… by an act of pure devotion. One that expects nothing in return.”
The words lingered, deceptively generous. Deceptively confounding.
“But I have yet to witness such a thing in this kingdom.”
Green mist coiled and billowed around the figure as they turned and vanished, leaving nothing but the echo of scorn.
And as the glimmer on his skin dissipated into him, the young prince frowned up at the space where the wooden mask had stared at him.
Unaware of the reason his court was panicking.
Unaware of the curse that now clung to his life.
Six Years Later
The afternoon sun was hot against the stone courtyard as a young boy in regal clothes sprinted, breathless, through the servant passages.
“Your Highness! Please, wait!”
Voices echoed behind him, but the prince was fast. His golden hair whipped wildly as he slipped through a gate barely wide enough for a child.
Freedom. Finally.
He stifled a laugh as he darted beyond the outer gardens, through curves nobody used, past the fields, into where his tutors had explicitly told him not to go.
His mother would be furious. Tighnari would likely give him another long lecture—Kaveh, the lands beyond are not potential hobbies—but for now, the wind tasted sweet.
He ran past stone walls and busy hawkers, keeping his head down, until the pristine towers disappeared behind rolling green and yellow.
The weight of silk robes and court expectations melted away.
But his dash came to an abrupt halt as he reached it—the wall of thorns.
It towered above him, twisting black vines with blood-red flowers blooming between sharp barbs. No light filtered through. Every single branch was thicker than his most built bodyguards.
The barrier had appeared five years ago, after his father’s death.
The wood seemed to hum under his palm. “Okay. Guess this is it.”
Disappointment itched at him. But this was the furthest he had ever gotten. Even if he’d get another scolding, at least he made it to the thorns.
But as he turned to leave—
There was a faint rustling.
The vines writhed, curling away like serpents. Slowly, an opening unfurled before him: a distant path of moss cutting into a very, very forbidden area.
Kaveh blinked. Then grinned.
The Moors were nothing like the stories.
The air was damp, rich with the scent of flowers he had no names for. The grass grew untamed, taller than his head in some places. The ground was a mixture of sand and soil—he wasn’t sure how that even worked.
Beady eyes peeked out from behind glowing trees. Strange winged creatures fluttered overhead. Tiny orbs giggled as they spun around him like wind chimes.
Kaveh wandered, mouth parted in quiet amazement.
A soft ball of fur bumped into his leg—then another, and another. Fluffy, multi-legged beasts. They tapped and cooed, following curiously.
“You’re all so cute!” he squealed, kneeling.
Everything was new, vibrant, alive.
A sprite zipped in front of his nose, and Kaveh laughed, chasing after it as the other creatures scattered. He was so busy marveling that he didn’t see the root snaking across the ground until he stumbled face-first into a patch of shallow mud.
“Ugh,” he groaned, wiping his pant sleeves. “Oh no, Tighnari’s going to be mad I ruined this set.”
He looked up to offer a sheepish apology to the sprite he chased—
And froze.
In front of him was a mask.
That mask.
From his fragmented nightmares.
Kaveh shot back, heart jumping—
Until he registered the wearer.
Not a tall, towering monster.
Someone his size. Standing still. Pieces of grey hair sticking out from behind the oversized mask. Just watching.
“H-hi?” Kaveh blurted. “You—you’re in the Moors?”
The boy said nothing.
“Are you from here? Oh. Wait. You—you can’t speak?”
Perhaps it wasn’t a boy. Perhaps it was a humanoid creature.
The mask merely tilted its head.
And then, cooly: “How did you get in?”
Kaveh smiled in astonishment. “You can speak!”
The boy’s posture didn’t change.
“Oh. Right. The thorns, um, opened up?”
The masked boy’s head tilted further, as if pondering an illogical puzzle. Then he turned sharply. “Leave.”
Kaveh hurried after the departing boy, catching himself from slipping on the mud. “Wait! Who are you? Do you live here?”
No answer.
Kaveh, the pampered prince, who had never truly had anyone walk away from him, followed in confusion. “Do you? It’s rude not to answer.”
“It’s rude to trespass,” came the even reply.
“There was no trespassing! The thorns welcomed me!”
Kaveh stepped closer to the masked boy when a sharp, unexpected shove sent him sprawling into the dirt again.
“—oomf! Hey! Why did you—”
“Leave. You almost stepped on a prickleback.”
Kaveh looked down, only now noticing the tiny, round, spiky creature wobbling nearby.
“Oh! Thank you for saving me!”
“The prickleback would’ve died if you stepped on it.”
“…Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean any harm. I—I’ve never been out here before. Are you from the Moors? Do you live here? What’s your name?”
The boy only continued walking away.
Kaveh followed again, curiosity overriding caution. “You don’t seem like a monster. Are you human?"
No answer.
“I’m Kaveh,” he offered, extending a muddy hand. “Since we’re talking already.”
Still no answer.
Kaveh huffed at last. “You’re quite rude.”
They walked—or rather, the boy walked, and Kaveh followed. He didn’t even realize where they were until he bumped into the boy’s back.
The thorny walls.
And before he could wonder why, the masked boy grabbed the back of Kaveh’s tunic—
“Whoa!“
Kaveh was thrown into the thorns.
He braced for pain, but none came. Instead, he felt a rush of air as the branches parted, and then a gentle landing on the kingdom’s side of the border.
Kaveh whipped around, red-faced, eyes blazing.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! I COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT! YOU’RE NOT FRIENDLY AT ALL!”
“Then you shouldn’t return.”
Kaveh stomped forward, about to yell at the boy again, but the thorns curled and twisted, blocking his path like a cage. Kaveh stood alone, furious, his clothes dirty.
Then he heard the faint murmur of:
“Why did you open for him? He does not belong here.”
A pause. A rustle.
“I refuse to listen to a plant. Never allow him in again.”
Cheeks flushed with indignation, Kaveh stuck his tongue out at the unmoving vines.
But his ire was quickly replaced by a fresh wave of panic at the distant sound of castle gates opening. He bolted, running back the way he came, sneaking in just as he’d snuck out.
Weeks later, Kaveh found himself once again pushing through the narrow service gate, his heart pounding with familiar exhilaration.
He darted through grass, then sand, then—the thorny wall.
From how he was kicked out last time, he half expected it to bar his way.
But they parted.
And who was he to refuse?
He chased tiny flying sprites again, laughing as they landed on his knuckles. He wasn’t sure if the prickling on his skin were bites or kisses, but he let them be.
Several leaf-eared creatures frolicked amongst luminescent fungi. Some came out hesitantly to poke at his legs. Kaveh was enchanted, following them as they led him down a path—
“Aaah!”
And down he went. Tumbling into a hidden hole in the ground. Landing with a muddy thud.
Were the leaf-eared creatures trapping him?
“Um… help! Hello?”
He reached out to the hole above him, but his fingers barely peeked through.
Minutes crawled by. Or perhaps hours. He lost track, shivering in the damp earth. Until he heard footsteps.
“Is anyone there? Hello! Please!”
A shadow fell over the opening. A familiar wooden mask stared down.
“Oh! It’s you!” Kaveh called in relief. “Please, could you help me? I’ve been stuck here for hours!”
Croak-croak, went one of the leaf-eared creatures.
“You’ve been here for ten minutes,” the masked boy deadpanned.
Kaveh hoped he didn’t look too pathetic.
The masked boy sighed and lifted one hand. A strange, shimmering green light pulsed from his palm. And before Kaveh could react, his body rose—weightless, floating out of the pit like a leaf.
He’d barely touched the ground before gasping out, “You can use magic? That’s amazing! So you are from the Moors? You’re not lost?”
And like a record player, the boy simply walked away.
“Hey—please, wait!” Kaveh scrambled after him, splashing mud. “Why are you always like this?”
The boy’s pace never slowed.
“Are you a sorcerer? A fairy? That was really incredible. I’ve never seen magic myself before. Do you understand all the creatures here? Can you speak to the plants, too? I don’t think I’ve read anything in the library about plant language.”
And on and on he went, ignoring the other boy’s silence.
“Are you listening? Thank you for saving me. But you’re a little bad-mannered, you know? I’m being friendly.”
It wasn’t until the trees thinned that Kaveh realized where they were headed.
“Oh no. Not yet!”
Kaveh knew better. He wasn’t about to be thrown outside the barrier again.
He managed six steps before a blur tackled him to the ground.
Kaveh gaped in betrayal as one of the creatures—the same leaf-eared one that trapped him earlier—sat satisfied on his chest.
“You have my thanks,” said the masked boy as he appeared behind the creature, which croaked back and scuttled away.
“That’s unfair,” Kaveh whined.
The masked boy only stood over him, arms crossed. “Leave. Or I’ll make you.”
“Make me?! I haven’t even done anything wrong!”
And then, like a stubborn child—because he was a child—Kaveh rolled dramatically on the grass.
A green light emanated from the masked boy’s hands—
And Kaveh grabbed onto a low branch, anchoring himself as his body lifted in the air unwillingly.
“I’m not leaving!”
“Let go.”
“No! You cannot just throw me out! That’s very rude!”
“This is impossible,” the masked boy muttered under his breath.
Before the standoff could escalate, a bird-like creature flitted to the masked boy’s side, chittering something rapid.
The boy clicked his tongue, releasing his hold on Kaveh. “Stay if you want. But don’t follow.”
Of course, Kaveh followed.
The bird led them to a small clearing. In the middle was a bundle of mangy, reddish fur. A baby fox—its hind leg bent unnaturally. It was clearly cornered and thrashing, surrounded by several Moor creatures.
Without a word, the masked boy unsheathed a knife from beneath his cloak.
“Wait! What are you doing?” Kaveh shouted. “Don’t kill it!”
“It’s from beyond the thorns. It does not belong here. It’s harming the creatures who do.”
“It’s just scared! It’s injured and lashing out.”
“It is a threat.”
“It is a baby!”
“I do not need your agreement to do what is necessary.”
“Wait! Just—give me a moment, okay?”
Later, they walked back toward the thorn wall with Kaveh carrying the now-docile fox tenderly in his arms.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said haughtily. “For taming the fox.”
The masked boy offered no response.
Kaveh sniffed. “You know. I’ve never met anyone as rude as you.”
“I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you,” the masked boy replied.
“Do you even meet other people in the Moors?”
“We’re here. Leave.”
Kaveh frowned at the edge of the thorn barrier. Then he turned back to the boy, sticking out a hand. “I’m Kaveh. Again. It’s polite to introduce yourself when someone saves your animals.”
The masked boy only stared at the hand.
“This is called a handshake—”
“I know what a handshake is.”
“Then shake it! I’m not leaving until you shake my hand!”
They stood there for a long moment, a silent battle of wills. Eventually, with a sigh of utter irritation, the masked boy reached out—
Only to recoil with a hiss the moment their hands touched.
“Oh!” Kaveh flinched, eyes wide. “Did I hurt you? Was there something on my hand?”
“Your ring. It’s iron,” the masked boy muttered, drawing back. “You needn't bother.”
“Did it burn you? I’m sorry, I didn’t know!” Kaveh immediately slipped the ring off and flung it into the tall grass behind them. It was a regalia he didn’t mind losing. “There. Problem solved.”
The masked boy gazed at where the ring had vanished. Too long.
“Great. Now I’ll have to watch where I’m walking.”
The replying cry of “so rude!” echoed through the newly opened thorn wall.
The next time Kaveh reached the wall of thorns, the vines parted without resistance. As if recognizing him now. Even the creatures seemed to distinguish him, as several familiar ones scurried over.
“You are persistent.”
The voice came from behind him.
Kaveh spun from where he was crouched with a hopping Moor creature, smiling at the stoic masked boy.
“Hi! I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”
“Leave.”
“No.” Kaveh gestured to his side, where a small fox yipped happily—now healed, fur bright, tail curled in contentment. “I brought Mehrak. He’s better now.”
“You adopted the creature?”
“Of course! He needed a home. And see? He’s playing nicely with the land urchins now. You didn’t have to be so dramatic.”
The masked boy offered no verbal response as Mehrak pounced playfully at a scattering of spiky creatures. Then his gaze returned to Kaveh’s robes.
“Were you robbed on your way here?”
Kaveh beamed. He was prepared this time. Just soft fabrics and bare hands.
“I didn’t know how to separate the irons and silvers. Better to be safe, right?”
“Is the kingdom’s security so incompetent that their little prince managed to escape three times?”
Kaveh blinked. “You… know who I am?”
The masked boy let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. “Does anyone else in the kingdom wear brocade and silk only to muddy them?”
Kaveh’s face flushed in embarrassment. “What of it?”
“Then you should stay where you belong.”
Kaveh didn’t listen and shadowed the boy incessantly.
It was the fifth time he’d heard the command to leave, the fifth time the masked boy tried to lead him back to the thorn wall.
Kaveh, however, knew the route now and simply ran off whenever they were close to the perimeter—forcing the masked boy to chase after him.
“Why are you always alone out here?”
“I didn’t invite conversation.”
“But we’re talking already.”
“We are not.”
“Look, look, I’m holding a prickleback—ouch—”
“They bite.”
“—It’s not letting go! Owowow!”
“They are relatives to leeches. Best of luck.”
“Thanks for helping me. Do you have a name?”
“No.”
“That’s clearly a lie!”
“The flying ones gave me this berry!”
“I’d rather you die outside of the barrier if you must.”
“Hm?”
“That berry is poisonous.”
“Wha—?! Say something sooner!”
“I drew the fluffy raccoons. Look!”
“Boggins. And their ears are wrong.”
“Hmph!”
“Let’s race!”
“How childish—”
“First one to that river wins!”
Kaveh lost terribly—with many, many scrapes.
Yet none of the tears on his pants dimmed his grin as the masked boy ahead of him heaved with barely concealed satisfaction.
Finally, when the sun began to dip below the horizon, Kaveh followed the boy to the thorn walls without protest, Mehrak trotting obediently at their heels.
As the barrier parted, Kaveh waved cheerfully. “Bye-bye!”
“Don’t come back,” was the only flat response.
“I’ll be back next week!”
And really, there was nothing the brooding Moor child could do against the bright young prince.
The thorn wall could not stop him.
Nor could words, nor warnings, nor silence.
After all, before he was cursed to die,
he was first blessed to be loved by all.