Bloody lycans.
Azael gritted his teeth, watching from the shadows of the misty forest.
Lycans ran rampant on his land, in their animal forms— he knew there would be consequences for extending the path.
His nose caught a whiff of strong blood. Their leader was here.
A white wolf, larger than the others, rose on its hind legs. Only an ancient could detect another ancient.
Fen.
"Joining your wolves to terrorize my lands, now, Fen?"
Azael's voice stayed hidden in the darkness.
The wolf snarled. His husky, animalistic voice blended into a human cadence.
"Curiosity. The king of night extends paths, humans passing too close."
"You know what they say," Azael replied. "Curiosity kills the cat—or should I say, dog?"
Fen laughed, howling into the full moon. "My wolves must feed, but that is not why I'm out here."
He stepped closer. Azael stayed invisible, studying him.
He had beaten Fen once, for the larger part of these lands, and would gladly do it again.
"There is a crack." Fen said."The path you extended—it was deliberate, to let the humans pass. The Azael I knew wouldn't care."
"Don't think yourself wise, Fen," Azael growled. "I will end you where you stand."
Fen laughed again, shifting into human form. Bare, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a sturdy build nearly matching Azael's own..
"I told you centuries ago," Fen said. "I will return to claim our lands," he grinned. "The time draws near."
Azael said nothing.
"Remember," Fen continued, "we were friends. Colleagues. Brothers. You always acted with emotions—I warned you. It will be your downfall."
"Leave, Fen. I will not repeat myself." Azael's tone was lethal.
"And I leave. The scent of longing is strong around you. I will taste it in battle soon."
Fen shifted into his wolf form, howling as his pack retreated from Azael's land.
**
Elana woke the next day. She had to clean herself; at least the heaviness of her flow had lessened.
She reached for Israel, hands finding him still sleeping peacefully. Relief washed over her.
Climbing down from the bed, she groped her way toward the bathroom. The room felt larger than the last one.
Rough walls bore prominent drawings, which she traced with her fingers.
Her hands stopped at a smooth, polished door. She pushed.
The scent of incense made her hold her breath.
This was definitely not the bathroom.
A familiar voice came from behind: "What are you doing?"
Azael.
"I-" she stammered, "I was trying to…"
He backed her deeper into the incense room, the door closing behind them. His presence dominated, the scent teasing her nostrils.
Was he angry? Was this his chamber? Had she trespassed again?
Elana tried to move, but he caged her against the wall with both hands. She whimpered, her voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"
"Who are you?" his voice was low, frustration evident beneath it. "Why did you come here?"
His closeness affected her so much that she wished he would kiss her. She'd never wanted that from a man before.
"I was looking for the bathroom," she lowered her face bashfully. "I'm still…receiving my monthly visitor."
He didn't move, which made her nervous.
She wished she could see his face, maybe his heart—the coldness of his hands, the brush of his breath, the tension in the air.
She reached out, the urge to feel him overwhelming her, but he pulled back sharply.
"Come with me."
Azael took her hand gently, cold but guiding.
They left the incense room, crossed the bedroom, and stepped into another room filled with the sweet scent of wisteria.
He must really love the flower.
"We're in the bathroom," he said.
She blushed. "Do you have a shower here? It's more comfortable than a tub right now."
"Do you want to go in it with your clothes on?" he asked, deepening her shyness.
"No, no. You can just place my hand on it, and I'll manage from there," she replied.
Azael led her to the shower, her hand brushed the cold metal rod.
She swallowed. "Th-thank you."
"There's a minion outside, it'll offer you any help you need after you're done having a bath," he said, footsteps retreating carefully.
**
Naina grew irritated watching Israel and Elana play in the castle's open field.
His laughter rang freely as she stumbled after him.
"Pretentious bitch," Naina muttered.
Then she saw Azael—leaning against one of the arched entrances, arms folded, eyes fixed on them.
Now was her chance. She adjusted her dress, arranged her hair and bows, confident in how it made her look.
Then she walked toward him, heartbeat quickening.
His crimson-tinted pupils slid to her. Cold, handsome—he made her giddy. They were a match.
"Hello, Lord Azael," she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear—her mother's trick for showing elegance.
His eyes returned to the field. "Your heart is quite sinister for a child your age."
Naina froze; she wasn't a child. And what did he mean by sinister?
"I'm not a child," she said, lowering her gaze.
"You certainly act like one. Leaving behind a person who cares for you so deeply—for selfish motives," he said, still not looking her way.
"She's a slave!" Naina snapped, fists clenched. "She's not relevant. I don't know why you__"
"Silence!" he commanded, voice low.
Naina obeyed, gritting her teeth.
"The next trick you try," his gaze flickered to hers, threateningly.
"I won't be so forgiving, no matter how important you are to Elana."
Tears burned her eyes.
"She's just a blind slave!" she shouted, catching Elana and Israel's attention.
Then she stormed off. She was an heiress and deserved whatever she wanted—not a blind slave.
Elana had no right to be happier than her. She would make sure of it.
**
Meanwhile, far in the palace of Lumere…
The throne room, elegant in its poise.
Neon light bounced off shiny walls and marble floors as the purple throne glowed under a sparkling chandelier, with attendants standing still like living statues.
The king strolled in, four guards behind him in blue and yellow military uniforms.
King Victor wore a sharp velvet suit with big shoulders, a shiny crown, and a long cape.
His posture wasn't too tall, but he was sturdily built.
Brown hair slicked back, and a cold expression that gave the air of a man who never smiled.
Settling into his throne, he said, "Bring in the report."
The guard bowed and returned with three nobles who had escaped the chaos in the mountains.
"Your majesty," they said, bowing.
"The forest before the mountains, my king," one began. "It expanded—there was more land than we could ever hide."
"Good land, too," another added. "It is part of the reason many of us escaped."
"That land is also part of Lumere," the last said. "It would be disastrous to let our enemies prevail in it."
The king smirked. "Extra land, huh?" His mind wandered, finally.
The tales were true; there was a world that existed beyond the mountains.
It took a war for this revelation.
"I will explore the land myself. To be sure it's not all delusion," he said.
The men looked at him in surprise, "That's dangerous, my king. The land is crawling with the enemy," one said.
King Victor gave them a stoic look, "Go and clean your filthy selves from the ravaging of war. You look like slaves."
"We're sorry, my king," they said in unison, bowing and leaving the throne room.
The king beckoned to one of his attendants.
The attendant approached, "Send a letter to my mage. Tell him to be at the palace before nightfall today."
"Yes, my king."
King Victor's smirk returned, slow and satisfying, hunger for power visible through it. "Lumere—and everything under it—is mine."