Intrachit stormed angrily into the palace, slamming his bow against a nearby servant to be restrung and oiled. He froze as he finally reached the stairs, hearing his name called out by a low, booming voice.

Intrachit grimaced and shook his head before steeling himself and walking back across the tiled floor into a grand library room.

His father, the giant Tosokan, was seated upon an ivory throne. Tosokan’s skin was a vibrant green-blue colour, his armour a shimmering gold. Upon his head he wore a tall chada headdress that ended in a sharpened point.

“I hear that monkey was running amok in my garden again?” Tosokan stated, his voice cold and measured.

“Father-“ Intrachit began but he was silenced by a vicious slap to his cheek. Intrachit felt his eyes sting with pain as he jerked his head back up. His father had moved from the throne to stand in front of him with a speed only possessed by a demon king.

“He got away,” Tosokan spoke, his voice dripping with disappointment and venom. “One little white monkey against thousands of demon guards and my great warrior son.”

Intrachit pursed his lips shut, he knew better than to try and argue with his father when the giant was in this mood.

“One of the palace witches knows a spell,” Tosokan continued, scraping a long claw across Intrachit’s chin and leaving a deep welt. “She has already harnessed the power of the stars. But now she needs the sacrifice of a heart.”

Intrachit felt his chest catch in panic.

“Oh don’t worry,” Tosokan laughed cruelly, “I’m not taking yours my son. Unfortunately it would be worthless in this case. No, I need a heart that is pure.”

Intrachit tensed before falling to his knees before the giant. “Father, let me source a heart for you, I will not let you down.”

“If you fail,” Tosokan paused, his voice lowering, “I will banish you from my kingdom and strip you of your rank. You will be forced to wander the forest of Himmapan with the rest of the lawless beasts.”

“Father,” Intrachit bowed as Tosokan dismissed him with a sneer.

Once back in his own room Intrachit let out a scream of rage, smashing the nearest objects he could reach against the stone floor. Shards of vases exploded against his legs and pinpricks of blood dribbled down to his ornate curled, gold boots.

His whole life, Intrachit had trained harder than any other demon prince he had known. He had mastered the bow by age nine and then imbued it with magic far beyond his physical level.

The day that snapping, slithering naga snakes had transmogrified from his loosened arrows had been one of the proudest of Intrachit’s life.

His father, however, had stamped down on the skull of one of the snakes and called it a ‘mere party trick’.

This had only served to fuel the fire in Intrachit further. Every morning he would run up to the top of the land’s highest mountain and back, carrying rocks on his shoulders.

Every evening, he would dive into the frozen lakes of the north, swimming for hours until his limbs ached with agonised vengeance and the monstrous eels of those cursed waters threatened to gulp him down whole.

Any mission his father sent him on, Intrachit had acted with ruthless efficiency, he never showed mercy, he never displayed weakness. He had been taught that love and affection were meaningless, ephemeral blooms that would drop from trees to be trodden on by the boots of Phra Ram’s armies.

Intrachit had grown, nineteen years of pushing himself to the limit had sculpted his tall figure into broad, hardened muscle. Sharp cheekbones cut across his handsome face, his skin a deep, bright green and his hair thick and jet black.

But Intrachit had never allowed himself any distractions and whilst he had taken many lovers over his time, he had never permitted his heart to feel.

Intrachit stared at himself in the mirror, shedding the heavy metal plates of his armour until he stood naked and bare, the evening sun casting his skin in dappled hues through the window.

“I will make you proud father,” he gritted, tensing his hands into balled fists. “I will find you a pure heart.”

Intrachit snarled at his own reflection menacingly before turning on his heels and striding towards the bathroom. The water had been drawn earlier by the servants and fragrant oils hung pungently in the air.

The bath was deep and warm and soon Intrachit found his eyes succumbing to the sweet will of sleep as he sunk beneath the surface.