Chapter One

In the life of every being, a stage in their life determined their success and failures. It was the same for every being, rich or poor, king or servant. And now the time has come for prince Adrian Beowulf to prove himself, worthy of the throne.

"You must understand for you to ascend the throne, to be worthy of it, you must carry out this quest alone. Your men will not be with you, I will not be with you."

It was so unlike Father to be this worried over a simple quest. He didn't even give his son a feast to send him off like he used to. He kept the send-off personal, just Father and son.

"Father, you worry too much, I will be back sooner than you expect. I am to bring the Witch alive, how difficult could it be?"

"The green flame is not like any witch you have encountered son, she has power far greater than your expectations. She is magic, Adrian." He warned with a strange glint in his eyes.

"Magic or not Father, a sword through her heart is enough."

"Bring her alive, show you have strength over her spells. I want her on her knees before me. Swear to me that you would do this, after this, the throne is yours, my son." He said sternly, his brows furrowed.

The young man got on a knee and declared his promise to his Father.

“I swear to you father, I will bring her on her knees before you, she will grovel at your feet.”

It has been four moons since he left his kingdom Katrina and still no sign of the Witch. He looked in places he was not meant to be found in, forests, enemy kingdoms. The journey was hard as he had to bear the weight of carrying his wears and tending his horse. It is hard for him as he rarely did these things, he was a prince, and he had people do these things for him. And he was starting to lose his head in this quest, not a sign of the Witch.

But drop enough silver and you hear words about her. Unlike any witch he knew, she was not well known, but those who did know her after the silver said such ridiculous things about her.

"She has love in her heart and kindness on her fingers, a burning flame in nights, a mystery of good."

According to their words, she was a paragon of the saints. But he knew witches, they were nasty, cunning, full of so much hate and dark. They dabbled in the black arts, nothing about that was kind.

He camped at the edge of a small village named Carnations, it was a peaceful place. Flowers lined every path, from pink roses to yellow carnations, they seemed to be in plenty of carnations. The people too were easy, girls giggled at the flirts of young men, and children played at every corner. Everyone seemed to know each other here.

He visited the market on a rainy day. Words whispered on how the green flame always came for her supplies while it rained. The whole village silently hummed about a visit from the mysterious woman. Supplies they said, he was prepared to ambush her in the market.

The rain came down lightly, staining boots and the edges of long cloaks with mud. He stood beside a stall at a corner, so he could have a clear view of all who went in and all who went out. Thanks to the rain, the crowd was small.

Time passed and he was ready to accept disappointment again, but then he caught sight of a peculiar figure. Its back was at him, but the strangest of things followed this figure. Despite the rain, its green hood cloak was not showing signs of wet stains. The tip of the cloak sweeping the mud did not seem to gather any mud. It was an expensive cloak too, gold trimmed edges. The green of the cloak shone like silk, indeed very expensive.

Its back was still at him, but he realized most people were gathered around it, smiling, bowing. Straightening up from the stall, he kept his gaze on the figure and a hand on the hilt of his sword. As if sensing his gaze, the figure turned.

Darkness, that was all that could be seen beneath the hood, no face just green eyes, disbelief clouded his mind, only green was seen. Like a ring of green fire that burned brightly out of bottomless darkness. Silver hair shone and spilled out of the hood reaching her well-shaped waist. She was dressed in a simple green dress of intricate gold design.

Bloody hell, her body was shaped to a man's dreams, her bosom, full and ripe as her dress did nothing to hide their beauty, giving a glimpse and more if you dared, and just between the pair, a bit above them was placed a stone. It looked like a jade stone from where he stood, the stone held her cloak and hood together. It took a lot of will for the prince to pull his gaze from that sight.

He did not want his eyes to wander, he did not want them to trail over her figure in the adorned green bodice of her dress, over her small waist, and the lovely flare of her hips beneath the skirt. It was obvious she wore no under skirts as her dress fell like green liquid over her hips, shaping her hips. So full and round. Made for the hands of a willed man.

He did not want his eyes to crawl over her small dainty hands that held a woven basket to her side, the skin of her hands showing creamy white skin. Her skin looked soft and smooth, his fingers itching to check if they were as smooth as they appeared. But for the worth of his crown, he could not stop staring, her body was for a man's wet dreams, and her eyes were to torture a man's soul. And for what seemed like a long time, they stared at each other. It felt like he was right before her. He could see the rise and fall of each breath she took, the sweet expansion of her bosom, he was entranced by her. 'So she was the green flame, bloody hell, she shone just as bright.' He mused.

Time froze as they stared openly at each other, he began to feel uneasy under her gaze. He was not here to gawk at the witch. Reminding himself of his assignment, he flexed his fingers at the hilt of his sword, and just like that the trance was broken.