Law of beasts, p.1
Law of Beasts, page 1
Law of Beasts
Copyright © 2025 by Aalis Blue First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-9192495-4-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by U.K. copyright law.
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All characters, events, and locations in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Violation of these terms is a breach of copyright and may be subject to legal action.
Cover art by Aalis Blue, Lucreynd & Deimjan Interior illustrations by sofka_novka, Lucreynd & Kkatsubi
Contents
Preface
Dedication
Epigraph
1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1
3. Chapter 2
4. Chapter 3
5. Chapter 4
6. Chapter 5
7. Chapter 6
8. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 8
10. Chapter 9
11. Chapter 10
12. Chapter 11
13. Chapter 12
14. Chapter 13
15. Chapter 14
16. Chapter 15
17. Chapter 16
18. Chapter 17
19. Chapter 18
20. Chapter 19
21. Chapter 20
22. Chapter 21
23. Chapter 22
24. Chapter 23
25. Chapter 24
26. Chapter 25
27. Chapter 26
28. Chapter 27
29. Chapter 28
30. Chapter 29
31. Chapter 30
32. Chapter 31
33. Chapter 32
34. Chapter 33
35. Chapter 34
36. Chapter 35
37. Chapter 36
38. Chapter 37
39. Epilogue
Preface
This is a work of dark fantasy, and as such, it delves into the grim realities of its imagined world. The characters within this story often navigate morally ambiguous paths, and many of them suffer brutal, unjust fates. Throughout the novel, readers will encounter graphic depictions of violence, psychological trauma, themes of captivity, themes of forced pregnancy and termination, as well as the dehumanising effects of the ‘Law of Beasts’, also known as ‘Divine Law’.
There is graphic torture, body horror and imprisonment. References to reproductive coercion, pregnancy, forced abortion, child trafficking and child abuse. There are verbal threats of sexual violence—no graphic depiction—as well as systemic oppression, execution without trial, and corruption disguised as justice. Characters experience mental deterioration, crisis of identity, and extended periods of sensory deprivation, with the story offering no guarantee of safety for any one soul. Power, both divine and mortal, is often used cruelly, and mercy is a rarity.
I want to state clearly:
I do not condone the events or beliefs depicted in this book.
They are a reflection of the fictional world and its broken systems, not a reflection of what I support, admire, or consider acceptable in the real world.
This book does not aim to glorify cruelty but to explore its consequences. In doing so, it offers no illusions about heroism, redemption, or the price one must pay for the survival of a dying world.
Please read with caution and care for your emotional well-being.
Dedication
If a world is flawed, is it the fault of its creators or its survivors?
Are the heavens guilty for their silence, or are we, for tolerating decay?
In seeking justice, I found destruction.
In destruction, I found peace.
This is dedicated to my sister, to my friends, and to the world of my dreams that became manifest in this book.
Its death was always inevitable.
Epigraph
“And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible.”
Prologue
Caelestis took a blade to his brother's neck.
The head rolled into the pool of blood at his feet. His robes were soaked with rainwater; feet sunken into the now-muddy shores of the forgotten. Mist rose from the black sea and covered the battlefield in a white haze, clouding his vision as his judgment. Catching his breath, Caelestis looked up as the frigid raindrops graced his pale skin.
He had killed his father, and now the heir who succeeded him. There was no one else to stand in his way—his other brothers lacked the skill or status to challenge him.
This was it.
He had won.
The King of the 12 Domains of the Eastern Seas was him, Caelestis, the King who had obtained vengeance.
His men marched towards him, their black silver boots crushing bones and organs that littered the ground. The stench of death loomed heavily. If they had lost the battle, it would have been oppressive. But in the wake of victory, the smell of blood was as sweet as nectar.
Soon the footsteps came to a stop. A merman with pale blue hair approached his prince silently, dark armour blending into the black sands of the forgotten shores—or at least what was visible under the dismembered limbs, severed heads, and abandoned weapons that littered the bay.
"Your Majesty." Two words to make it known to everyone what their prince had become. The general fell to one knee, catching a glimpse of the red hair of the now-dead heir of the Eastern Seas. It lay near Caelestis's glowing pink sword, which stuck out like a sore thumb amid the bleak scenery. Caelestis had returned with the strange item after running away only a few months ago, and since then, everything had changed—for better or for worse.
On cue, the soldiers behind also knelt before the new king, the man who had promised them liberation, who had given them purpose.
For one moment, it seemed like a world power had risen from the murky depths.
But only for that moment.
The resonant sound of slow, rhythmic claps snapped everyone out of their growing exhilaration.
Caelestis remained still, but his eyes locked onto the source of the sarcastic congratulatory gesture.
"The heir to the Eastern Seas is dead," came the voice of a stranger. He walked up slowly, and Caelestis studied the man—friend or foe? "Congratulations, Caelestis of Nerissa."
"Friend or foe?" Caelestis asked, his men rising with their hands reaching for their swords.
The stranger remained calm despite their hostility. His blue-tinged hair was tied up behind him, purple cotton robes beneath black armor. He would have blended into the masses if not for the dark rabbit ears that hung forward on his head. His dark eyes seemed empty despite a smile on his face. He carried no weapons, not even a dagger, which set the men around him on edge.
He stood a few feet away from Caelestis, arms crossed, seemingly unwilling to reply.
Caelestis scoffed and raised the pink sword in his hand, energy coursing through it. The stranger's gaze landed on the sword, fixated, his eyes gleaming as though discovering an ancient secret.
"Friend or foe?" the mer king asked once more, his voice dangerously flat.
A chuckle escaped the rabbit's mouth. "I see." The moment he spoke those words, the raindrops around Caelestis stopped. But it wasn't just around him—the raindrops that fell towards the seas and even inland had frozen mid-air. At first, Caelestis thought he was a merman disguised as a rabbit, and then he noticed the silence. The sea had been silenced.
Caelestis's head darted around, only to see his men standing perfectly still, unmoving. Their swords were in various states of being drawn, their faces hardened and prepared to fight. The wind had stopped howling; the mist no longer rose; all of time had stopped.
The strange man took another step closer. This time, Caelestis was forced to take him seriously. What kind of being was able to stop time? There was only one option, and just the thought of meeting him here made his gut twist painfully.
A Harbinger.
"The General of Blasphemy." The words slipped from Caelestis's lips, and despite his innate fear, he kept his composure. The Dragon Queen had sent her most competent to end his life.
It came as a surprise. He was sure Nephel would turn a blind eye to the affairs of the Eastern Seas. Had a deal been brokered behind his back that he was unaware of? Or were they simply unwilling to release him from their grasp?
How desperate were they to gorge on his flesh and blood? Was it too unreasonable that he had asked for solace?
Either way, this was the end of him. If they had sent a dragon, or even one of the Dragon Queen's Heads, he would have stood a chance. But to send a Harbinger—a being with no beginning and no end, whom death itself could not take w
Relaxing somewhat at that realisation, Caelestis lowered his sword.
"Have you come to kill me?" he questioned, his eyes softening at the thought of death. Dying was not too bad an outcome; what he couldn't do was return to those shackles that bound him to the will of others. As long as he had chosen to surrender and die, he could accept that.
The Harbinger's smile remained fixed. "Do you want me to?"
"I'd rather die than return to living such an empty life, so if you plan to kill me, do it quickly."
Despite Caelestis's urging, the man didn't make any moves. Instead, he stared long and hard, as if contemplating.
"You met a human girl who gave you that weapon, didn't you?"
Eyes darkening, Caelestis lunged in immediate response, the sword finding itself pressed against the rabbit's throat in the blink of an eye.
"I met no human girl." His voice was dangerously low. "Keep baseless conjecture out of your mouth." Bloodlust whipped wildly to intimidate, but the rabbit only laughed and made no moves to protect himself.
"Friend."
At his word, Caelestis stiffened and slowly lowered his blade.
They stood face to face. The strange rabbit was only a few heads shorter than him, but it didn't matter—his power and confidence made him seem impossibly daunting.
"I know the human girl."
Caelestis's heart rose to his throat. "Have you killed her?" he spat.
"Not yet."
Not yet. Caelestis let out a breath of relief. "Why not?"
The stranger shrugged. "My orders didn't involve killing the girl. I was simply told to end the life of Leon the Great. I was not told to kill any other human, so I did not."
To kill Leon the Great—such a feat was only possible for a Harbinger.
"Is she with you? Is she safe?"
"She's safe."
The memory of that impossibly naive woman warmed him a little. After all, it was thanks to her he had dared to come this far, even if he would only meet his end here.
Thinking along those lines, the sword in his hand glowed before it vanished and was replaced by a delicate pink and silver bracelet. It was clearly made to be a beautiful ornament, one to be worn by someone of equally beautiful countenance, and yet it had transformed into a sword strong enough to kill a king. Human artefacts, no matter how pretty, were terribly terrifying.
"At least you're not yet a danger to her. Since you are here to kill me, you can return this to her once the deed is done."
Caelestis reached out his hand. He didn't fully understand who the man was or what loyalties he had, but considering he was a Harbinger, as long as his orders were to kill him, then the rabbit would have to see his mission to its conclusion.
The man took the bracelet, and without even inspecting it, he activated it as though he had done so a thousand times. The piece of jewelry transformed into a large staff. It was plain with a material akin to dark wood, the head twisted but rounded, the bottom sharpened to a single point. Silver leaves and vines wrapped around the shaft with pink flowers interspersed among the metal foliage.
"It seems you're familiar with it," Caelestis said, shock painting his face.
"I was there at its creation."
"I see." Caelestis had many questions he wished to ask. For one, how had he found out Hadassah was human? Had she told him? Or had she done something too trusting and given the rabbit one of her artifacts like she did with him? She wasn't very good at hiding her identity—she must have been swindled and scammed a few times on her journey at the very least. The more he considered her, the more anxious he became.
"Do you want her to save you?"
Caelestis froze, the Harbinger's words echoing in his ears. Save him? He laughed at how absurd an idea it seemed. "The Dragon Queen has set her sights on me. I fear I am beyond saving, especially not by a weak little human girl." Though he jested, the rabbit didn't. His expression had dropped to one of complete seriousness. Caelestis stopped laughing.
A person like her, who couldn't tell her east from her west, the girl who trembled under cover out of fear during the lynching—could someone like that save him?
Despite his thoughts, a faint sliver of hope bloomed in his chest.
Hope was a drug that consumed the very soul.
"Yes." A word so quiet, so dry, it was as though he dared not say it.
The Harbinger said nothing, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. He nodded once, and then Caelestis felt the rain fall once more on his face.
Excerpt from the Annals of the Continental Archives, Vol. XII – XIV Nerissan Regicide
Year of the Withered Moon, 538 AE (After Emergence), 001 Reign of Neveah of Orlaith.
The Civil War of Nerissa stands recorded as one of the bloodiest conflicts in the Eastern Seas’ living memory. Wherein the Sea cried for the blood of its children, and the banners of the kingdom were trampled underfoot by brother and kin alike. The regency, long fraying under the weight of internal strife, collapsed utterly when the King Regent was cast from his throne, betrayed by one once sworn to his own blood, his beloved son. The 12 Domain lords stood aside as is law, the victor could only be the most competent.
At the zenith of the war’s chaos, the Great Mother of the Continent, in her unfathomable wisdom, sent forth reinforcements. At his arrival, the traitor, whose name remains sealed, was captured on the Forgotten Shores.
Though his crimes cry out for death, the Dragon Queen, in her abundant mercy, has decreed imprisonment until a higher judgement may be rendered. Such clemency, rare as it is radiant, has stilled the cries for vengeance. The traitor now awaits final judgement on the day of the Solar Eclipse, an omen not seen in nearly four decades.
It marks the return of the Queen of Orlaith and the beginning of the continent’s rebirth. It shall be our blessing, a sign that divine law will once more rule the lands of the continent.
The heavens be with us all.
Chapter 1
Her body had been mangled beyond recognition.
Zarek's sword hit the training dummy with a dull thud at that thought.
Her eyes were barely open; she had stopped breathing at one point.
He huffed as sweat dripped down his brow. He struggled to focus, his memories of her clouding his vision. The dummy he had been glaring at suddenly doubled, swaying around him and throwing him off balance.
That boulder had smashed into her ribs, and covered her lower body. The broken bones had jutted out just under her grotesque torso.
Zarek tried to inhale deeply and exhale. He needed to regain control. His hand started to shake; the wooden sword became incomprehensibly heavy. The practice blade had started to splinter, his callused hands bearing the brunt of the pain, pieces of wood lodging between his fingers, digging deeper with every swing, but he couldn't stop. Not when he was this weak.
Hadassah had tried to talk to him despite her mangled body, but her pink exposed lungs had flailed, unable to fully expand or contract. She couldn't breathe—she could only stare at him with big brown eyes filled with such haunting fear.
Thud.
He choked on his own inadequacies, his dizzying vision stinging so sharply he winced. He settled back into his stance, deep breaths in and out, his muscles coiled, tense, agitated. He held the sword with both hands, knees bent, body weight centred.
'Pathetic,' he thought, and lunged for the dummy again. It broke on impact, pieces shattering and scattering around the circular training area. One cut through the cotton fabric of his beige tunic.
He dropped his sword, his left hand pushing away the loose locs that had fallen from his bun. Straightening his back, he looked up at the sky. The blue almost seemed white to him. Had it always looked like that? He stood there for a while, calming his erratic heart, listening.
For the first time in three months he heard the faint chirping of birds jumping from impossibly large tree to impossibly large tree. Call and response, the melody one of comfort, but Zarek felt none of the joys that came with spring. All he felt was bitter disappointment in himself.
