The Dark Fairy King
Chapter 71: The Forgotten Prisoner

Chapter 71: The Forgotten Prisoner

Darkness isn’t for the faint of heart.

Some run from it.

I always wondered—why not splash in it?

Too morbid? Too unpredictable? Too dangerous?

But isn’t everything?

You’re expecting the story of a villain, aren’t you?

But what is a villain, really?

What if everyone else is the villain?

What if your refusal to survive in darkness is just stubbornness?

What if you drown in darkness because you kept insisting on being pure?

You might say:

"Scarlette, stay away from the shadows or they’ll taint your Love Magic. Keep to the Light."

But Light, Love, Darkness—they’re all overrated.

Blurred lines, especially when you’ve been buried in shadow for too long.

Some say survival matters most.

By whatever means.

Chaos is a five-letter word I wear like perfume.

So here it is.

My story, before it all began.

Before I quite literally crashed into Veravos’s complicated world.

Someone might read the story differently but not me, I am the narrator for this story.

My perspective. My rules. My truth.

A long time ago, I lived in a place called the Love Fairy Kingdom.

Everyone there sparkled and smiled like it was scripted.

Every Love Fairy dripped with syrupy magic.

Everyone... except me.

I was punished for being different. All because I believed in a brand of love they did not approve of. A love that burned instead of soothed. A love that was genuine, messy and had no bounds.

Outrageous isn’t it?

So I sat alone, in the dark, in a dungeon long abandoned and forgotten.

Hours turned to days. Days into years. Years into decades.

Maybe even centuries.

Time doesn’t bother keeping score for people like me.

The humidity, the silence, the voice in my head—I got used to it.

Forged from magic itself, I didn’t need food or water.

Maybe that made me someone easy to forget.

No visitors. No sound.

Only me, and memories preserved like poison in a crystal.

They moved on without me.

I remained.

A single beam of light leaked through a crack in the ceiling.

It only touched the stone when it rained.

I sat under it, always.

It reminded me I was still alive.

That I still existed. That I hadn’t faded completely.

Then—

A sound.

A snap at the door.

The lock gave way.

I froze.

Because this had never happened before.

Was this... real? Better to be careful.

I inched closer to the door, pressing my frame close to the door of my prison cell, trying to listen for any sounds or whispers.

Voices echoed down the corridor.

"The doors are all broken now, as commanded," said one voice.

"Wait... are there any prisoners left?" asked a second, deeper one.

They were clearly guards. Baltimore’s goons. Probably bored with going through the motions.

I could tell from their careless tone.

I slipped into the shadows, reflex sharp from centuries of isolation.

"Nothing on record. Doesn’t look like anyone’s here."

"Good. Time to report to King Baltimore. He wants to redevelop this dump—expand the courts or whatever."

King Baltimore?

Redevelop?

Excuse me?

Their footsteps faded. The gates creaked shut.

Silence returned.

So... should I leave now?

Was this a trap?

I stood, body trembling.

My hope hadn’t been wasted after all.

Slowly, I opened the door slowly, carefully, trying my best to not let out a single creak.

Bare feet. Silent steps. Cold stone against my skin.

A shriek—

I flinched.

Just a bat.

Charming.

I crept through rusted gates, past forgotten halls, toward the front entrance.

And then I saw it.

Sunlight.

Real, glorious, untamed sunlight.

Spilling like molten gold across the broken floor.

I stood one step away from it.

Freedom.

I let out a shaky sigh—

The kind that starts in your ribs and ends behind your eyes.

A tear slid down my cheek.

Not grief.

Just... unbelief.

This was real.

This was happening.

Yes.

I am that Love Fairy.

That forgotten Queen.

The one they locked away and left to rot.

And yes—

They forgot me. Seemed that way.

That’s the only possibility I could think of.

I looked back.

No other prisoners.

Just me.

I had outlived them all.

And now?

This place was nothing but a skeleton waiting to be torn down.

If I’d stayed one day longer, I’d be part of the rubble.

This wasn’t a what-if.

It was a now.

I pressed my body against the wall by the main gate.

Caution is always smarter than courage.

No guards in sight.

No one knew I was here.

I closed my eyes.

Listened.

Chatter. Footsteps. Life.

All distant.

I reached forward, letting sunlight graze my fingers.

Warm. Real.

Proof I wasn’t dreaming.

I brushed my hand against the iron bars of the unlocked gate.

Freedom.

Beyond the gate, a crowd drifted toward the city like moths to flame.

I took a breath.

One step—

Then bolted behind the nearest bush.

The palace stood in the distance.

Tall. Shining. Smug.

Exactly as I remembered.

Manicured, heart-shaped shrubs lined the path, pink and perfect.

Still branding the kingdom like it’s some wedding invitation.

But then—

Something else.

A tree.

Massive. Glorious. Blooming with violet petals.

The Hundred-Year Bloom.

It only flowers once every century.

And only for a month.

The last time I saw it...

Was the day I was imprisoned.

Had it really been a hundred years?

Is that why they forgot me?

I stood there, stunned, until a breeze nudged me forward.

I stepped into the current of people.

Blending in as best I could.

But eyes found me.

Whispers followed.

"Take a shower," someone muttered.

"Love the outfit choice," another said, venom in their tone.

I looked down.

My white gown, now sludge-stained and fraying.

Algae clung to the hem like a fashion statement gone feral.

I caught my reflection in a puddle.

Yikes.

I raised a hand—just instinct. Just rage.

Ready to fling an insult. Or worse.

But nothing happened.

No spark.

No glow.

No magic.

Just trembling, dirt-streaked fingers.

I was just... a stranger.

Unkempt. Unseen.

Powerless.

Is this really what I’ve become?

No.

I won’t let this be my ending.

If they erased my legacy—

I’ll carve out a new one.

That’s when I saw it.

His poster.

Plastered across a wall like a slap to the face.

Smug. Polished. Crowned.

King Baltimore.

I tore it down.

Crushed it in my fist.

A ghost from the past.

My old nemesis.

A corrupt monarch playing king in my absence.

"You will pay for this," I whispered.

Soft.

Burning.

And this time...

I won’t be so merciful.