Prologue
Hello, dear readers,
Since I’m apparently never quite satisfied, I’ve started revising everything from the very beginning... again. 🙈 I’ve also rearranged some of the chapters.
So, if you’ve been reading along already, I recommend picking up again with the chapter after the third trial, since that’s where the order starts to change. Though it probably wouldn’t hurt to simply start over from the beginning. You know, for the algorithm and all that. 🙈
To everyone who’s new here:
I’m so happy you found your way to my story.
A few words before we begin: In my eyes, A Shift to Darkness is not an easy read, nor is it the kind of story you can simply breeze through on the side. I have poured a great deal of heartache and work into it. It is layered, full of hidden clues, and ultimately leads to a number of twists and secrets. So you will need a little patience and a love for detail.
While this story does explore love between two, or perhaps more, people, the romance itself only plays a supporting role. What truly lies at the heart of this story is so much more than that. It explores the tragedy of loss from several perspectives while still looking toward the future with hope. I hope that you will come to love my characters just as much as I do.
And since I have been seeing this mentioned more and more often on Inkitt lately, I would like to add one small note:
German is my native language, and I have only used AI for research and to get an initial sense of how what I had written might come across to someone reading it. The story itself is entirely my own. None of the plot, characters, ideas, or creative content was conceived by a machine. I did, however, use AI to help me translate my writing into English, because my English simply is not good enough to do the story justice on my own, and I did not want that to keep me from sharing it with English speaking readers as well.
The cover, by the way, is not my own creation either. 😉
I hope you enjoy the story!
prologue
a few years prior
They came at nightfall.
The boy had settled down with a book in the glow of a candle, even though his mother had already put him to bed. But the storm raging beyond the window had made it impossible for him to rest, so he had slipped back to the table to keep reading.
There was a deceptive calm in the sound of the rain that evening. Every now and then, lightning tore through the darkness beyond the window.
He had just reached a particularly exciting part of the story when screams suddenly rose in the distance. Hurried footsteps followed across the wooden floor, growing louder at first, then fading away again.
The boy closed the book and crept toward the door, opening it no more than a narrow crack so he could peer outside. But there was no one in the corridor. His feet carried him toward the kitchen, yet that room was empty as well.
“Mammah?” His voice was quiet, fear pressing it into a timid whisper, and still it seemed to echo endlessly from the kitchen walls. Only a kettle whistled over the flame of the stove.
The door leading into the castle courtyard kept slamming against its wooden frame in the force of the storm. His mother often went to the stables in the evenings to check on the animals. Perhaps she had only stepped outside for a moment and had therefore left the door ajar.
Now, with every blow of the door, the distant screams of the townspeople drifted in to him. He padded slowly toward the exit, repeatedly casting nervous glances over his shoulder as though something might attack him from behind, though what that something could be, he did not really know.
The rain was falling so heavily that countless puddles had already formed across the courtyard, spreading over the gravel like dark pools.
His gaze wandered toward the gate, where two guards were usually stationed. Tonight, however, they were nowhere to be seen. He leaned his head outside and stepped onto the crunching gravel without even noticing that he was barefoot. Gooseflesh spread over his bare arms like a second skin. Perhaps he should go back, fetch a coat and shoes, and then look for his mother. Yes. That was what he would do.
He had only just turned around when a huge, fur covered body appeared in the distance. It looked like a wolf, as powerful as the creatures from his mother’s stories, as large as a horse.
Perhaps even larger.
At once, the boy bolted back through the kitchen and into his room. He squeezed himself beneath the clothes inside his wardrobe, slammed the door shut, and did not dare so much as draw a breath.
This had to be a dream. Yes, of course he was already asleep and only imagining all of it. But then why was the pounding of his heart so loud? Why did he not simply wake up?
He was certain the wood would splinter at any moment and the monster would come for him, just as it had in the book he had been reading. And then he would wake.
But nothing of the sort happened. The living quarters remained silent, the wardrobe stayed closed, and his chest felt painfully tight. No one came to get him.
Not even his mother.
A tear burned its way down his cheek before dripping onto the wood below. He sniffled softly and squeezed his eyes shut, as though that might somehow block out the sounds from the courtyard beyond.
He did not know how long he remained there before finally opening the door again. As best he could, he swallowed down his fear, because Mother wanted a brave child. Not one who went rigid with fright at the first sign of danger, like cream stiffening beneath a whisk.
The wardrobe hinge gave a quiet creak. He froze, waited for a moment, then took a few cautious steps back into the corridor.
This time, he chose a different path. His search led him up the stairs and deeper into the castle. As the child of a servant, he knew his way around these halls perfectly well, even if he was not truly allowed to creep through them like some little thief.
The entrance hall lay in the same ghostly silence. No servants hurried from place to place. Not even the castle guards stood beside the doors.
Where was his mother? She would know what to do.
“Hello?” he breathed into the darkness, flinching when another flash of lightning illuminated the hall. “Ma... Mammah?”
The only answer was a distant whimper from the floor above.
Was that her?
Did his mother sound like that when she was afraid? She was never frightened. Never. Only stern and demanding, determined to turn him into a proper man.
His heart pounding, he climbed the stairs. The upper floor led to the chambers of the ruling couple, but why would his mother be there? Her duties were in the kitchens and with the livestock.
He was still hurrying up the steps when the front door crashed open. The boy spun around, crouched low on the stairs, and peered through the balusters.
Two black, fur covered creatures charged into the entrance hall. They looked at one another for a brief moment, then split apart and disappeared in opposite directions.
The Da’hems. After all these years, they had finally come to subjugate mankind after all.
Panic drove the boy up the last few steps. The wood creaked beneath his feet, but he could not bring himself to care about that now. He followed the sound of the whimpering along a corridor that seemed to stretch on forever until it led him directly to the bedchamber of the ruling couple.
He did not stop to think. He only wanted to find someone at last who could help him. With clammy hands, he tore open the door and slipped inside.
The sight that awaited him made him freeze where he stood.
An unusually tall man whipped his head around and fixed him with eyes full of hatred. In one outstretched fist, he held the king by the collar. Beside them, the queen sat trembling and whimpering on the bed while one of the furred monsters kept her trapped in place.
“Get out of here, boy!” the man thundered, then turned back to the king without sparing him another glance.
The child did not move. He simply watched, ignoring the man’s warning. In that enormous hand, the king looked no larger than a toy.
“I will ask you again, King of Crudelis.” He shoved the king back against the wall until his feet left the floor. “Where is my wife?”
“What are you talking about?” the king coughed, barely able to breathe beneath the man’s grip.
“We are harboring no Da’hems,” the queen forced out, earning a harsh growl from the monster beside her.
“Kill her,” the enormous man ordered. The wolf’s jaws snapped shut.
Hands flying to his eyes, the boy smothered the scream rising in his throat.
A shriek tore from the queen. The king roared, “No!” Then silence filled the room.
More than anything, the boy wanted to get away from here. Wanted to wake at last and escape all of it. Instead, he pressed himself harder against the door, unable to turn around and run back the way he had come.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
His heart was pounding so violently it felt ready to burst from his chest. As his vision cleared, he realized the queen was not dead. Instead, the wolf was baring its teeth directly in front of her face.
“Where have you taken my wife?” the man demanded again, jerking the king by the collar. “Where is she?”
“Not here!” The king’s eyes darted toward his wife. He swallowed several times before looking back at the man holding him. “We have never threatened Faelan, nor have we ever set foot within its borders, High Lord of the shapeshifters. We have never attacked you. Spare our city.”
“It is too late for that!” the man growled. “Your soldiers took her!”
“I know nothing about that!”
The wolf opened its jaws again and let out a sound that seemed to rise from the depths of its chest. When its muzzle pressed against the queen’s cheek, a violent shudder ran through the king.
“Stop!” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “They t-took her away! To the Citadel, perhaps.”
“That is days from here!” the High Lord snarled.
“L-look for her there. The mages... they...” The king’s voice broke on his final words.
Rage seemed to seize the man whole. His shoulders jerked, his knuckles turned white with the force of his grip, and then he roared. So loudly that the glass in the display cabinet rattled. Never in his life had the boy heard such a horrifying sound. His hands flew to his ears, and in doing so, his head struck the door behind him.
In the next instant, there was no man standing there any longer. His arms and legs had given way to long limbs tipped with sharp claws, his head to a terrible snout lined with pointed teeth. He had transformed into a monster, akin to the other beasts the boy had already seen. Only his form was larger by far.
At last, feeling returned to the boy’s legs, and he edged along the door, opening it as quietly as he could without taking his wide eyes off the creature looming before the king.
Just as he slipped through the gap, the wolf lunged.
Cloth tore, screams rang out, and the sounds followed the boy down the corridor. He could not look back. He could only run. Away, away, away. Leaving the noise behind until it, too, was swallowed by silence.
“Mammah!” he sobbed, calling again and again for the one person who could protect him. His vision blurred, tears spilling freely down his face now, no longer able to be held back, and he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. “Ma! Ma! Ma!”
On the staircase he stumbled, tumbled down several steps, and hauled himself back upright with a groan, his legs shaking beneath him.
When he turned a corner at the bottom, he collided with wet fur. Reeling backward, he tripped over his own feet and struck his head hard against the tiled floor.
As the world around him slowly dissolved into blackness, he had only one wish left. That the horror would finally end.
But from this nightmare, he never woke.
