Hi everyone, this is a new story that I'm working on with another author here on Wattpad. Please refer to the story detail page to check out her profile if you would like to go read some of her work. I've also got other books here on Wattpad that you can check out if you would like. 

All of Syrene's parts are written by me, and Malvin's parts are written by @umeall.

I hope you enjoy this story. Happy reading. 

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 Syrene P.O.V

Syrene looked at the withering mess of a man on the ground and smiled. He thought he could cheat her of the money that she fought her ass off for. She'd been fighting in those sweaty fight pits almost every night, just to make enough to get her and her friends out of Isesadour. So, there was no way she was going to let him scam her. She earned that money fair and square. He had no right to petition her for sex in exchange for her own money.

"Sorry, Haggard. I'm just not that type of witch."

As the pit master cupped his delicates, crying out in pain, she grabbed the money out of his hand and ran without looking back. Knowing that it wouldn't be long before he sent his men after her. She wanted to be in the wind before that happened.

The streets were busy with people going about their day as she ran. They all looked at her suspiciously, darting out of her way. She slowed her pace, coming to a jog. It wouldn't do her any good if she was stopped and questioned by the National Guards. They would see her marking and know that she was a witch, then they would arrest her for being outdoors after curfew.

Witches weren't offered the same privileges as other citizens of Isesadour. They were seen as the weaker, uglier and defected species. They weren't offered the same decency as others. For that matter, they weren't offered any decency at all. Witches were forbidden by law to marry or mate with anyone who isn't a shifter, and that's only because there weren't any male witches. Only females can be witches, males born to witches are shifters, they are able to shift into any animal. There have been a few cases where some females are born as shifters, but it was very rare, like her best friend Kailani.

A few National Guards were out patrolling, searching for witches and anyone who dared to disobey the king's order. Living in Isesadour was hell for anyone who wasn't a demon, but especially so for witches. There were some humans and faes who were offered some privileges, but it always came at a hefty price.

One of the guards looked her way and she quickly passed her hand over her face, whispering a spell that would conceal her marks, making her look human for a few minutes. His eyes bored into hers, intensely. Her heart started beating faster, but she didn't let it show. She smiled timidly at him and bowed her head in respect. He gave her a stiff nod then turned and went about his day.

Sticking to the road was dangerous for her. The spell she cast on herself would soon wear off, and if the guards caught her using magic, her punishment would be severe. Witches weren't allowed to use any type of magic, and if a witch was caught using magic, death was the outcome. However, if the king was feeling generous, the witch would be made to work off her crime in a brothel.

As if to mock her, the lights from one of the many brothels shone like a beacon. A young witch, no more than fifteen or sixteen was made to stand on a makeshift podium, wearing what one might consider undergarments.

The white frock was long and flowing, but that did little to hide the girl's delicate pale skin from the eyes of the hungry men. Despite being long, the garment left nothing to the imagination. The fabric was so thin that her nudity under the dress was on view to all.

The eyes of the men were filled with lustful hunger as they watched her, all waiting for the bidding to start. I felt rage for the young girl, but I dare not intervene, or I might have found myself right besides her.

"This little witch here is fresh and ripe for the picking. She is pure, never been tasted by a man. She was sent by the king to work off the crimes of her family. Shall we start the bidding at one gold nugget?"

"How old is she?!" one of the men shouted.

"Show us a little more skin!" Another shouted.

The owner of the brothel smirked while stroking his overgrown beard. He grabbed the front of the girl's dress and tore it. She shrieked away from him, but he grabbed her, causing her to stumble and fall.

With the front of her dress torn, she was left exposed even more to the men, who started cheering. The young girl tried her best to cover herself, crying in the process.

"She's fifteen, well above the legal age of consent for a witch."

The legal age of consent for a witch was thirteen and sixteen for all other citizens of Isesadour.

A crime could not be committed against a witch because they didn't have any rights. Murderers would not be punished for killing a witch. The king would view their action as ridding the Kingdom of one less parasite. Rapists would face no retribution for their actions because witches were whores according to the king.

Syrene hurriedly walked away from the growing crowd. Her concealment would soon be wearing off. Although she felt anger for the young girl's situation, she did not want to be caught on the streets after curfew. When the king passed the law that all witches must be indoors at the second hour before midnight every day and by noon on Sundays, or death shall be their outcome, many witches had taken to vacating the streets the moment the sun disappeared on the horizon and staying indoors all together on Sundays.

The new law inconvenienced many witches, but none was willing to disobey the king's order and risk death. Syrene, on the other hand, did most of her fights at night and couldn't afford to take fighting jobs in the day as it was too risky, except on Sundays. Only legal fighting pits operated in daylight, but on Sundays, there were a few fighting pits that run big fights and would allow witches to fight. It was all done illegally of course.

One had to acquire legal documents to fight in the pits, and a witch would not be able to obtain such documents. Witches were only given documents to work in brothels, erotic dance clubs, and gentlemen's barrooms.

More national guards were out. Something must be happening as Syrene has never seen so many of them patrolling before. She felt the spell wearing off and quickly darted into the woods when the coast was clear. Not wanting to draw suspicion to herself, she kept her pace slow, until she could no longer be seen from the road. Her speed slowly increased, and she found herself jogging. Just when she was about to slow down to take a break, the voice of the pit master's men drifted towards her.

"There's the little witch."

"Get her!"

She looked back just in time to see the bigger one drawing his arrow, ready to fire it at her.

"Damnation!"

The curse left her mouth before she could stop herself. She tried her best not to swear as her aunt thought that it was unbecoming of a lady. Syrene wouldn't exactly consider herself a lady, but she wanted to honour her aunt.

An arrow whizzed past her, almost hitting her. She cursed again as she thought that it was needed in the situation, and her aunt would forgive her. For a witch she was fast, it was what allowed her to win most of her fights. So, using that speed she ran. She felt the heaviness in her feet but continued running. She was ahead of them, but they were keeping a good pace with her. She considered stopping and fighting them, but she knew that she wouldn't win against an arrow.

Her limbs were starting to protest. She was already worn out from her fights earlier, so her energy was not at its fullest.

However, just as her limbs were about to give out, she was lifted in the air and placed on a moving horse. Startled, she tried to push away from the stranger who grabbed her.

"You shall kill us both if you continue to do that."

The stranger was well-spoken, she could tell that he was of some standing in Isesadour. He had to be because not many can afford to own a horse.

"Unhand me!"

She did not know who the stranger was, or what he intended to do with her. A witch alone in the woods with a strange man did not bode well for her, and if he was a demon, she could consider herself dead.

"I will, once we are free of the men chasing you with death in their eyes."

Syrene stopped fighting. She didn't know why he was helping her, but she'd take it and make swift her escape once he came to a stop.

They rode in silence for a few more minutes before coming to a stop by a pond. The stranger dismounted the horse and helped her down as well. Syrene got her first look at him. He was quite handsome and much younger than she first thought. He looked like a teenager, around her age. Eighteen.

"I thank thee for the help."

As much as she was curious about the stranger, she did not want to stick around to find out what or who he was or risk the pit master's men catching up to her. She gave him a slight nod, then turned, ready to exit the woods.

"Why were those men chasing you? What crime have you committed against them, witch?"

She froze. Her concealment spell must have worn off. She knew that she had to be cautious, after all, he could be a demon.

Turning around, she faced him. She kept her posture timid and yielding, with her eyes to the ground. A witch must never be seen as strong and confident, if they are, then they are viewed as a threat and must be disposed of.

"Forgive me, master, but my only crime is my blood."

Syrene knew that he could call her out for being out on Sunday. He had every right to kill her or take her to the king for breaking the laws of Isesadour.

Eying him under the hood of her eyes, she saw him looking at her suspiciously. However, she noticed the way he assessed her body. The scrutiny of his gaze unnerved and angered her. There would be nothing she could do if he decided that she should pay for her crimes with her body. However, she was ready to put up a fight if he tried.

Syrene knew that she had to get out of the woods and away from him if she wanted to live. She eyed his horse, and a daring thought crossed her mind.

"Are you a whore? Did you steal from them?"

Her head snapped up at the questions, and her grey eyes connected with his brown ones. She knew that he could kill her for the disrespect, but she didn't care anymore. Why did he think she was a whore, she most certainly wasn't dressed like one? Irritation laced her voice as she answered him.

"I am not a whore, and I've never stolen in my life."

Even to her own ears, the untruth of her words mocked her. Of course, she wasn't a prostitute, but claiming not to be a thief even as she considered stealing his horse and abandoning him in the woods, was audacious even for her.

"Then why were those men chasing you?"

The look he gave her was neither filled with suspicion or disgust. He looked genuinely curious.

He must not be from Isesadour. She thought.

Still looking into his eyes, she looked at him curiously. She still couldn't tell what he was. Discerning what species a creature was, was one of her specialities. She was one of the few witches that were born with the skill. The only time that she was unable to tell what species a person was, was if they were using a very strong concealment spell.

Syrene knew that whatever he was, he was powerful. Normally she could tell when a person is using a concealment spell. She might not be able to tell what they were, but she would sense that they were spelt. However, she got nothing from him.

"As I said, my only crime is being a witch."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "They were chasing you with intent. I doubt that the murderous glare in their eyes was solely based on you being a witch."

He was not letting the matter go. Syrene was running out of time. The pit master's men would be upon them soon, and she was sure that he would not help her a second time. Thinking about it, she cast a look around her surroundings, wondering if she was being set up or ambushed. Witches aren't normally offered help by anyone without them wanting something in return.

"Why did you help me?"

The question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. However, she found that she really wanted to know the answer.

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I'm not one to turn a blind eye to a damsel in distress,"

Syrene grunted, feeling insulted. She didn't mean to be blatantly disrespectful, but those that knew her would never describe her as being a damsel.

"I am no damsel, and I was definitely in no distress. I had the situation under control before you butted in."

Curse her rebellious nature. She covered her mouth and cursed a few times in her head. She was never good at following rules and acting weak. Her nature for acting on her own accord has always been her downfall and her saving grace.

The handsome stranger laughed at her. She frowned at him, not quite getting what he found so funny.

"Did I make a joke?"

There she goes again. Why couldn't she just let it go? She had to be a smart ass. Her mouth was going to get her killed one day.

"Yes," he replied. "If you almost getting an arrow through the heart, was you in control of the situation, then I must say that you were doing a grand job."

She'd had enough. She was wasting time talking to him. The pit master's men were still in the woods looking for her, and she was hanging around just waiting to die. Despite whoever he was, she had to get away from him and be on her way.

"As interesting as this conversation is, I must be on my way. Thank you again for your help."

She decided that even if he was going to kill her or turn her into the King, he would only do so the moment she decided to leave. She turned and started walking away. Anxiously, she waited for him to come after her, or for more hunters or demons to descend on her, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he was quietly following behind her. She frowned, wondering if he was just making sure she was within reach when the rest of his party did arrive.

"Why are you following me?"

Syrene didn't trust him. For one, she still didn't know why he helped her, and she couldn't tell what he was. He could be a human or a demon. If he was a human, then he must be a hunter. There were a few humans that served the king as hunters, sneaking into witch covens and hunting witches the king deemed a threat.

Syrene hated hunters just as much as she hated demons. However, if he wasn't a human then that means he's a demon, and a demon would never help a witch. That would mean he had other plans for her. She wasn't at her full strength and wouldn't be able to win in a fight with a demon even if she was. Escaping from him was her only option. She wondered if he had others waiting to help when they disembarked the woods. Had he seen her as she entered the woods and followed, pretending to be her saviour, hoping to gain her trust so that he could capture her and take her to the king?

So many thoughts were travelling through her brain, but she wasn't curious enough to get them answered. She would wait until she got an opening then run.

"Why would you think I'm following you?"

Maybe because you're following me!

She didn't say that though. If he was either demon or hunter, angering him would not be in her best interest.

"Maybe I'm mistaken."

They were close to the clearing that led out of the wood. This was her chance to escape from him.

"Thank you for your help earlier. I don't like to be in debt to others, so I will find a way to repay you someday. However, I must be on my way."

She congratulated herself on how calm she sounded. Her tone did not give way to the battle of anxiety that she was fighting at his closeness.

Turning on her heel, she was already running. Praying that she made it out of the wood and back to her little hut. However, she only made it two feet before she was frozen in place.

Demon! She thought.

He was most definitely a demon. He possessed the power of immobility. Only demons of very high ranking can use magic this strong. Fear flooded her because she knew that she'd be unable to get away from him.

Anger filled her for the injustice of it all. Demons acted like they were gods. Abusing the magic that they stole from the witches. Imprisoning, degrading, raping and killing witches all to maintain control over a power that was not their own.

Her mother and her aunt were victims of the carnage caused by demons. The royals to be exact. If this demon planned to kill her, then she wasn't going down without a fight.

"You will either be killed or sold if you step foot out of these woods."

Syrene wanted to curse at him. She wanted to draw the blade that was hidden under her cloak and plunge it in his heart, but she could do neither because she was still frozen.

"I will let you go, but you must not run."

She didn't make him any promises. She had every intention to run the moment she was freed. He came to stand in front of her, looking her in the eyes. She hoped he saw her hatred for his kind in her eyes.

He chuckled, "You are quite stubborn, for a witch."

He came to stand even closer to her. She felt his breath on her face as he spoke to her.

"The national guards are out patrolling. The royals are stationed nearby, so there are much more of them than usual. A lone witch running from the woods would stand no chance against them. You would either be killed or have your body used for the king's pleasure."

His hand lifted and he brushed her hair out of her face. Tucking it behind her ears.

"I mean you no harm, witch. No need for you to envision plunging your blade that is hidden away in your breeches in my heart."

Syrene eyes widen. Can he also read her mind? She's never heard of a demon being able to do that.

"I will now release you and it will be your choice if you decide to heed my warning."

With a wave of his hand, she was freed. On instinct, she ran but stopped about four feet away from him. She didn't know whether to believe him or not. She still didn't trust him, but she turned to look at him with a peculiar look on her face because for a demon his behaviour was quite unorthodox.

"Why are you telling me this? You are a demon, why are you helping me?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug, "I'm bored."

Syrene snorted and it was not ladylike. She did not believe a word he said. There must be some sinister reason why he was helping her. No demon would help a witch, even if he was bored. He would more likely rape her, kill her or torture her, but not save her life.

What was his real reason, and could she handle hearing it?

"Well, can I at least know the name of my saviour?"

The moment she asked, she regretted it. Asking him his name meant having to tell him her name in return. He remained quiet for a few seconds, pondering over her question.

"My name is Malaric, but you may call me Mal. And what should I call you?"

Syrene wondered if she should give him a fake name, but in the end, decided to give him her real name. If he wanted to harm her he could have done so already.

"I'm called Syrene, and I should really be on my way."

She hoped that he'd let her go, but just like before he started following her again. She was fast losing her patience with him.