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Long hair, as white as fresh snow, hung down her back in intricate braids down to her waist. Her skin was the same milky white, almost pearlescent in the firelight, and she had a narrow waist that was pinched in a tight corset.

The gown she wore was deep black and low cut, the curves of her breasts drawing the eye with every breath she took.

The sleeves were down to her wrists, and sheer enough to showcase her smooth skin underneath.

The inky black color was rich against her white skin, the color not offsetting in any way despite the stark contrast.

When Baldr finally brought his eyes to her face, he spied the pointed ears poking out from her white hair.

Her face was angular, the sharpness of her cheekbones and jaw honed enough that she could cut a diamond with it.

Though her features were mostly plain, her mouth was round and plump, painted a deep maroon that matched the walls of the palace.

What forced Baldr to stop, however, were her eyes.

They were black and held a level of viciousness that he did not think any being was capable of .

She ignored him as he passed her, her chin high and back straight as she made her way to the throne room.

It wasn't until she passed him directly that she made note of him and halted in her tracks.

Baldr froze, his galder rushing to the surface in an intense wave, though he didn't understand why.

The Elven turned her head to assess him, her eyes tracing over everything from his stance to the flames that had begun flickering in his palms at the threat she posed.

His gut told him not to look away from her, not to lose sight of her or turn his back on her.

The dark corners of the hall seemed to deepen the longer this female lingered in the hall. In the blink of an eye, a dark aura grew around her that pulsed and ebbed with her movements. The shadows had crept from their hiding places in the corners to flood to this Elven's call.

Alarm bells chimed in his head, warning him of a great threat he was facing.

This had only happened to him a few times in his life: the gods sending a warning to be careful or stay away from certain people or places.

Until now, it had saved his life, so he trusted it when the alert sounded as she ran her lifeless gaze over his body.

When she finally met his stare, she gave him a small, cruel smile that did not meet her eyes before continuing.

Baldr did not move again until she disappeared behind the door to the throne room, her oppressive presence and shadows going with her.

He exhaled, relief coursing through him as he regained feeling in his legs.

Unsure of what had possessed her to stop in front of him, Baldr wracked his mind for any encounter with the female before, but he came up empty.

He would have remembered someone like her.

Only when he reached his office did he finally relax. He sunk into his chair, the small space that previously belonged to the King's brother still slightly reeking of stale alcohol and sweat.

He had chosen not to get too comfortable here, knowing his position was as fragile as his cover story. He was surprised he had made it this far without being discovered, but Baldr thanked the gods for their protection yet another day in his twenty-six years in this realm .

Raised as an orphan by the hostile streets of Logi, Baldr had known nothing but survival.

His earliest memories were of a gentle woman who had cared for him, her gray hair soft and thin under his small fingers.

The image of her was fuzzy in his mind, the edges blurred and warped the way old memories could be when recalled, almost dreamlike in quality.

It forced Baldr to confront the idea that this memory was perhaps just a dream from his past that he remembered enough times to call reality.

The only other piece of his unknown past that Baldr held on to was his name.

Named for the god of light and peace, he had been a gentle boy despite his harsh surroundings.

He had always settled fights amongst the other orphaned children who ran freely in the slums of the city, begging for food and shelter and had always had the insight to round the children together so they could survive as a unit.

His tendency to gather the other children together because there was safety in numbers had led him to become an unofficial leader as he grew older into his teen years.

When Baldr was close to eighteen years old, most of the children had started to disappear from their small community.

Throughout the years, they had all begun to show signs of galder .

Most could manipulate wind, but some were skilled with water and even earth galder .

It wasn't until Baldr saw the other children marvel at their galder that he realized most of them discovered their skills much later in their adolescence.

Fire had burned in his veins since childhood.

He had been able to keep himself warm during the frigid desert nights when he couldn't find shelter within the city walls by sparking the flames in his blood.

He hadn't told the other children because no others seemed to be able to wield the same sparks as him.

So his secret remained buried beneath his skin, and he practiced it in secret.

The others who had not been so careful as to hide their galder were the ones to never be seen again.

While it wasn't unusual for orphaned children to go missing from time to time when a kind soul offered temporary shelter or the older children were arrested for a few days for stealing food, the complete disappearances were new.

It was if they had not existed in the first place.

When more and more children began to disappear from the streets they had grown up in, Baldr began to suspect these disappearances were more than just accidents or coincidence when he realized only the children with galder were absent.

One afternoon, Baldr had slithered through the shadows of the noble's district to follow some of the Flame Soldiers who had not often patrolled through the slums. Their uniforms were pitched black, the lack of color absorbing any light from the sun that shone on them.

Baldr had never seen these uniforms before, so he followed them all the way to the palace gates, where four other soldiers dressed in the same black uniforms had gathered.

On the ground in front of these soldiers, chained and bloody, were children aged from seven to sixteen, all gagged and panicked.

Amongst the group, Baldr recognized a few of them as being part of their small group that hid between the buildings in the slums. One of them— the one who held Baldr's attention— was Leif, his closest friend and constant companion.

Leif's bright blue eyes stared right back at Baldr as he crouched around the corner of one of the noble houses that sat on the outskirts of the palace.

Baldr had motioned for Leif to gather the others with him, but Leif had only shook his head subtly before looking toward the soldiers again briefly.

His friend's eyes pleaded with him to run, but he was rooted to the ground where he sat.

"Gather them up; that's enough for today," the one soldier said as he motioned for the others to grab their new prisoners. "She should be pleased with today's outcome after her most recent failure."

Baldr had no idea who they were speaking of but he didn't care because he was watching Leif be dragged through the palace gates.

He couldn't just sit there and let this happen.

His hand had inched toward the short blade he kept strapped to his belt, the metal brittle and flawed but sharp enough to cause damage.

Crystal blue flashed in warning as Baldr rose to his full height and palmed the dagger.

He didn't care if this would be his last action; he couldn't let these should-be protectors of their city kidnap his friend.

With a battle cry that Baldr did not know he possessed, he'd launched himself at the group of soldiers carting their prisoners through the gates .

Having no fighting experience beyond small fights in the streets, Baldr realized quickly he had been in over his head in attacking these trained soldiers.

They quickly overwhelmed him, four of the soldiers remaining behind to stop Baldr from getting any further, but that did not stop him from fighting.

Red blurred his vision, the flames in his blood begging for release at his heightened emotion.

Two of the soldiers continued dragging the children they had abducted from the streets but Baldr could see Leif struggling against his bonds to get to his side.

When Leif disappeared behind large doors, the elements carved beautifully into the dark wood, the last of Baldr's restraint had snapped.

He had never felt such rage before this moment; his usually calm and gentle disposition didn't encourage outbursts like this, but now it coursed through him in unending waves as the image of Leif being dragged by chains burned into his memory.

Fire exploded out of him in a detonation that should have leveled the houses on the outskirts of the palace, but his flames bounced harmlessly off the stone walls as if a protection bubble was around the houses.

Of course they would protect the houses in the noble's district when the slums had houses collapsing under the weight of how many people occupied it with no choice , Baldr had thought bitterly.