Oxtia

A noblewoman's daughter, Oxtia was raised in luxury. A wicked woman's daughter, Oxtia was cursed the moment she'd been born. Her mother found it good fortune, that Oxtia's words could turn leaden hearts into mercury in her palms. Men that would die for her, and often did.

The daughter of a king, Oxtia was raised to expect absolute loyalty from all people, especially her suitors. The daughter of a cruel man, Oxtia saw all those who displayed any ounce of disloyalty find themselves thrown into the woods one by one. Her father found it excellent luck, that his daughter's song could drive men into madness, her suitors condemning themselves to those cursed woods, haunted with the souls he'd left to die there.

Lover of the dirt and darkness in the hearts of all, Oxtia spent much of her time sneaking off to see the common wretches and criminals. Lover of a notorious butcher who her father expected to stage a coup, Oxtia knew the day would come he himself was sent off to the forest. The siren found it unsettling, that she missed him long after he was cast into his death, tears burning her cheeks.

Oh her mother shouldn't have encouraged her to amass that mercury, the men's ambitions liquid in her palms and every bit as toxic. Oh her father shouldn't have honored the madness he succumbed to, his kingdom burning the way he'd burned her heart out. The king ran into the woods, to beg forgiveness to the bones of her lover she'd long since assumed dead.

But word came round of a monster, of a butchering beast that ate dragons and slept in their bones. Of the monster her father begged forgiveness of as he found himself its next meal. Oxtia's burned heart stirred once more into the song she'd sealed away, the ashes of her love penning new words to the tune she'd written for Alhazred. Into the woods she went, with the few who'd survived the kingdom's fall.

The survivors fled as the monster, her monster, crashed through the treeline pursuing the song. Her heart thumped back to life in her chest, a siren with her muse once more. Oh, the witch her mother had wronged laughed as they danced together. Oxtia loved her monster dearly, and knew he could relearn loving her and her song too.