1
In the sprawling lands of Aeldor, it was well known that His elusive Majesty was credited with the exposure of the supernatural to the public. Humans had once been the governing species until shifters staged a revolution led by the alpha with nothing to lose.
The legends painted him as a ruthless warrior who claimed the entirety of the human nations through sheer force of will. The shifters of the globe bowed in subservience to his massive beast sporting moonless midnight eyes and a pelt coarser than metal shards. It was said that his wolf-soul danced just below his skin at all times.
The connection between the King and his wolf was the key to his dominion. When his reign was established five hundred years ago, he erected a fortress spanning the entirety of the Valencinian mountains.
A hagardly seeress passing through his realm foretold that his search for a mate would lead him through that which he hated most to find his hidden gem. He hardly ventured into the valleys to mingle with the commoners due to his vehement distaste for the humans left unscathed by his initial conquests.
Nonetheless A decree was sent out into the lands of Aeldor demanding the readiness of the young women of an age of maturity to mingle with His Royal Highness on the nights of the full moon.
It was never a guarantee that he would even grace them with his presence. This did not stop the young women from readying themselves in hopes that they might be his Royal Mate.
Nestled in the valley below the mountain ranges of the Balenciagan Fortress, townsfolk bustled about the stone streets frantically preparing for the King’s arrival. Women with braids of golden locks swept the dust from cobblestoned pathways into the air causing Anais to sneeze in rapid succession.
Her auburn curls danced about her shoulders while her head flung back with the force of her sneezing. Giggles bubbled from her belly when the sensation abated, and she was able to continue on her journey from the marketplace. Anais relished the feeling of the coming harvest moon’s chill against her exposed alabaster skin. Her wolf-soul rumbled purring from within her mind, as Anais transferred thoughts of running beneath the full moon. The forest surrounding the valley and her wolf were her only companions.
Her ability to shift ostracized her from her human peers. She shivered to think what they would do if they also knew of the witchblood coursing through her veins. She had been left on the doorstep to the village’s orphanage with a hasty rap at the door on the night of a harvest moon eighteen years hence. Her assorted abilities had manifested around the year of her thirteenth year while she was running through the woods under the light of a waning moon.
In her younger years, when she had first manifested her wolf, she was informed by the forest’s witch, Willow,that she was not only a wolf but also a witchling. Her visit to the hag had been solely for information on how to tame her wolf-soul, so that they might live harmoniously within the same body. This interaction with the hag in the woods had been her best kept secret for most of her life.
From that day forward, Anais became a frequent visitor of Willow’s hut in the woods. They would drink tea and eat supper together once a month. During those visits, she would listen eagerly to every spell and trick the woman was willing to share. Anais prided herself on her ability to quickly learn and adapt.
Reaching the orphanage she now found herself employed within, Anais dropped the fresh produce onto an oak table centered in the middle of the kitchen.
“OI MUTT!”
Francis, a particularly hateful example, shouted in hopes of goading the beast in Anais. Anais’ fingernails elongated and hardened into vicious black talons tearing nail marks into the wood of the nearest table. Her wolf-soul snapped her jaw around the sound of a deep snarl she was barely able to contain. Anais had to agree with her wolf. Snapping at Francis had always been a devious fantasy of hers.
Deep, soothing breaths filled her burning lungs and doused the fire of retaliation within herself and her wolf-soul. Anais removed herself from the situation promptly.
She did not anticipate seeing a large procession of carriages, pulled by centaurs, entering her town. Shock chilled her bones and sobered her from her anger. She had become convinced that the King would not waste his time coming down to a little farming town in the valley. So what was the Royal company doing here?
The legends painted him as a ruthless warrior who claimed the entirety of the human nations through sheer force of will. The shifters of the globe bowed in subservience to his massive beast sporting moonless midnight eyes and a pelt coarser than metal shards. It was said that his wolf-soul danced just below his skin at all times.
The connection between the King and his wolf was the key to his dominion. When his reign was established five hundred years ago, he erected a fortress spanning the entirety of the Valencinian mountains.
A hagardly seeress passing through his realm foretold that his search for a mate would lead him through that which he hated most to find his hidden gem. He hardly ventured into the valleys to mingle with the commoners due to his vehement distaste for the humans left unscathed by his initial conquests.
Nonetheless A decree was sent out into the lands of Aeldor demanding the readiness of the young women of an age of maturity to mingle with His Royal Highness on the nights of the full moon.
It was never a guarantee that he would even grace them with his presence. This did not stop the young women from readying themselves in hopes that they might be his Royal Mate.
Nestled in the valley below the mountain ranges of the Balenciagan Fortress, townsfolk bustled about the stone streets frantically preparing for the King’s arrival. Women with braids of golden locks swept the dust from cobblestoned pathways into the air causing Anais to sneeze in rapid succession.
Her auburn curls danced about her shoulders while her head flung back with the force of her sneezing. Giggles bubbled from her belly when the sensation abated, and she was able to continue on her journey from the marketplace. Anais relished the feeling of the coming harvest moon’s chill against her exposed alabaster skin. Her wolf-soul rumbled purring from within her mind, as Anais transferred thoughts of running beneath the full moon. The forest surrounding the valley and her wolf were her only companions.
Her ability to shift ostracized her from her human peers. She shivered to think what they would do if they also knew of the witchblood coursing through her veins. She had been left on the doorstep to the village’s orphanage with a hasty rap at the door on the night of a harvest moon eighteen years hence. Her assorted abilities had manifested around the year of her thirteenth year while she was running through the woods under the light of a waning moon.
In her younger years, when she had first manifested her wolf, she was informed by the forest’s witch, Willow,that she was not only a wolf but also a witchling. Her visit to the hag had been solely for information on how to tame her wolf-soul, so that they might live harmoniously within the same body. This interaction with the hag in the woods had been her best kept secret for most of her life.
From that day forward, Anais became a frequent visitor of Willow’s hut in the woods. They would drink tea and eat supper together once a month. During those visits, she would listen eagerly to every spell and trick the woman was willing to share. Anais prided herself on her ability to quickly learn and adapt.
Reaching the orphanage she now found herself employed within, Anais dropped the fresh produce onto an oak table centered in the middle of the kitchen.
“OI MUTT!”
Francis, a particularly hateful example, shouted in hopes of goading the beast in Anais. Anais’ fingernails elongated and hardened into vicious black talons tearing nail marks into the wood of the nearest table. Her wolf-soul snapped her jaw around the sound of a deep snarl she was barely able to contain. Anais had to agree with her wolf. Snapping at Francis had always been a devious fantasy of hers.
Deep, soothing breaths filled her burning lungs and doused the fire of retaliation within herself and her wolf-soul. Anais removed herself from the situation promptly.
She did not anticipate seeing a large procession of carriages, pulled by centaurs, entering her town. Shock chilled her bones and sobered her from her anger. She had become convinced that the King would not waste his time coming down to a little farming town in the valley. So what was the Royal company doing here?
