James Candlestone

In a time of zombies, ruin, and ash-choked skies, one terror still made even the bravest hunters look over their shoulders: Sugar witches. Their sweetness hid corruption, their touch brought decay, and their hearts were said to be nothing but hardened candy glass. And for the most part… the legends were true. But not her. Sophia Taffy had been born different—too gentle, too afraid, too unwilling to hurt even a dying flower. She lived quietly, hiding, doing everything she could to stay far from Hunters and their silver axes. None of the Hunters bothered to question the tales. None of them cared to see past the stories carved into their fathers’ gravestones. All except one—Prince James Candlestone second son of the dying kingdom, the only one who believed the old legends might not hold the whole truth. And he was right. So when he found Sophia crouched beside a fallen tree, magic sugardust glowing against her fingertips as she tried desperately to heal a wounded rabbit,—Sophia did the only thing she could think of. She ran. Her bare feet slapped the broken earth, her breath coming out in terrified whimpers. She could hear him behind her—the rustle of armor, the soft command of his voice telling her to stop. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not when she knew what Hunters did to witches. Her legs finally gave out, collapsing beneath her as the ground swallowed her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She bowed her head, shaking, pulling her soft taffy-colored hair away from her neck. “Just… just make it quick,” Sophia whispered, trembling. “Please.” Death by beheading. That was the law. That was the punishment. Witches didn’t get last words—only a swing of steel and silence. James stopped in front of her, his breath unsteady, his sword still sheathed at his side. For a long, fragile moment, he said nothing.