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“I can turn straw into gold,” a child insists. His face is smeared with dirt, tears dried and sticky on his cheeks, but his iris’ are the color of the sky and his hands are clenched into fists. The other kids laugh at him and kick more dirt up at his small body, sneer, and tear into him with cruel words.
“Gold?” a porcelain smiley-faced figure questions, kneeling before the child and offering out a hand. His face is hidden, his voice is dripping with amusement and greed, but Tommy takes the hand of the first person that has listened since his parents died.
“He can spin straw into gold?” the emperor questions, a great being with wings of smoke and death and eyes as cold as ice. His twin sons laugh like a funny joke has been told, identical pairs of tusks gleaming in the light of the throne room, and a challenge is set.
Three days. A room of straw.
A story that will be spoken about for eons.
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Or; how the Antarctic Empire kidnapped - sorry, adopted - their youngest prince.
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Tommy has magic powers to turn straw into gold, dream isn't good to him so the sbi takes him away lol