1-Shadow

Erebus - Summer of 1800 - Lion Island

The massive full moon is bright in the sky, illuminating my path. I stop to breathe, finally arriving at the White Plains of Lion Island. It’s a breezy night making sand whip around, and the smell of the saltwater ocean is crisp on my senses. I look around to make sure no one is following us. They can’t track me by scent as I have none. Seeing it all clear, I’m satisfied I can pause for a minute to rest.

With the cover of a gigantic tree, I prop against the trunk. I glance at the body draped over my shoulder, shifting it into my arms and cradling it close. I can hear a fog horn in the distance and know my ship is on the horizon. I can finally escape this place and create a new breed of warriors imbued by magic.

The wind lightly tosses my captive’s stark white hair, and I’m thrilled the strategy worked. It’s taken years of planning to get to this moment, and now I have my reward. The Queen of the Shifters is mine and the main component of everything. Her beauty enchants me, cupping her face in my hand as she stirs. A deep inhale of her scent tells me her soft floral essence is changing.

The lovely Ermera is with a child now, but that can be dealt with. Her next whelp is mine to control. She buries her face in my chest, whimpering for comfort. I hold her even closer to soothe those worries. Nuzzling Emera, I sense her confusion as she calls names that aren’t mine but her mates.

“No need to cry over them. You have me now,” I whisper in her ear.

The Queen’s purple eyes shoot open with fear as she gasps for air. But her dread slowly morphs into anger. I maintain control and keep her in my arms where she belongs. But my lovely prize is now swimming in hate and disgust, pulling away from me.

“Erebus, let me go, you foul creature,” Emera yells with all her might.

She bites my arm and draws blood, making me drop her angrily. I nurse the bloody gash on my forearm by licking it closed and still watching her. The Queen is groggy from the powder potion that subdued her. Trying to shake off her stupor, she rises but is too weak to carry herself upright. I reach out to help, and she defiantly pushes me aside.

“Your attempts to get away from me are futile. We will be one, Emera. You will see,” I say as she crawls away.

“I will never let you touch me!” Emera roars as she finally gets to her feet.

“You say that now, My Queen,” peering down at her, a sinister laugh escapes me, “but you will be mine. We will rule these islands together then the human world will bow to us.”

The panic in Emera’s eyes tells me those words mortify her, but I know she will come around. My knowledge of magic and the races will make her and my creations easy to control.

“Your second child will be mine, and I will have the strength to take dominion over everything! You will see, My Queen,” I proclaim in victory.

“You’re insane! I would rather die than let you rule, let alone fuck me,” she says, stopping in her tracks.

Emera’s claws extend gracefully. She closes her eyes, whispers, “I’m sorry, my loves,” and tries to slash her neck. But I move to intercept her hand, holding her gorgeous figure. Clutching her wrists tightly, my claws tear at the delicate skin. I feel warm blood trickle over my fingers, and still, she struggles.

“No, you will never have me! Let me die,” she demands with her alpha aura.

“Like many things in this world of magic, that puny roar of yours doesn’t work on me. I have gone to great lengths to become as powerful as I am. And just maybe after you’ve served your purpose, I will kill you,” I growl in her face, unphased by her authority.

“Do it now, then. Because I will never let you get away with this. You’re a disgusting monster,” Emera grits through her teeth.

Aggravated by her fighting, I pulled out a small pouch and blew more powder into the air. It spreads across Emera’s face in a wave, settling into her nostrils. She stands before me, dazed again, which makes her compliant. Forcing a kiss on her mouth, she resists my advance but fails.

I connect with her perfect lips and kiss my way down to her nape. I extend my fangs and skim Emera’s flesh, causing goosebumps. In the moonlight, I can see her glistening fated mark. If I override her current mutts claim, she will be mine.

I’m about to bite down when a loud series of growls erupt behind us, and I know they are finally here. I turn Emera’s back to me now. Her strength is still stifled, and it’s easy. Her fated warriors surround us, hissing and snarling at me to let her go. Their demands are dripping in command auras that fall flat.

“Ready to watch them die, My Queen?” I snarl in her ear with my hand at her throat.

“No, you’ll be the one dying today!”

Emera struggles to head-butt me, and I toss her to the side. I dodge to the side as her wolf mate leaps at me in his human form. He’s strong but overwhelmed by rage, which makes me the more intelligent fighter. There’s more than one way to get what I want. I can always take his body as my own.

Emera’s Mate and I square off as the real fight begins. My hand shifts into a fighting claw, fingers outspread. I leap forward, plunging them into his chest above the heart. With a deep grin, I start my unholy chanting. My life force will overpower his insubstantial being, and she will be the vessel to carry on my bloodline.

In my haze, the others swarm me. A large flier swoops in and rips out a limb from its socket. Vulnerable during my casting, I stagger and nearly lose my balance. The pain makes me glance down at another of her mates biting into my leg. There is a burning feeling as the venom travels from my calf up deep in my thigh and higher. I make one last attempt to fight, slashing my hand at her wolf mate’s throat, but they have bested me.

Everything slows briefly, like time is standing still. I feel a lifting sensation at my scruff, and my consciousness feels everything. The spell went off, but the connection to the host body was cut when my arm got severed. I’m not entirely dead, but I am just a soul now.

I have a bird’s eye view of the scene and can’t believe my eyes. The men claw and beat my lifeless body. I’m a knotted mess, mortified by watching my death. The wolf finally rips my throat, claiming victory over my corpse. But he, too, falls and dies from the wounds I inflicted.

The full moon was now at its zenith, and my body lay dead on the ground. My mind is adrift, watching down. They are weeping over the fallen wolf. Emera lets out a wild mournful wail and throws the weight of her body over her mate.

‘I was so close,’ I roar through the open shadow link.

I hear my followers frantically reaching out. If only they had gotten here sooner. They are all so pathetic and useless.

‘I have failed this time, but I will try again. Prepare for my arrival.’

‘King Erebus, where are you?’ The clan high-priest says through the link as I fade into the moon’s glow.

The hours are long, trapped under the lunar tide’s immense strength, keeping me in a blur of emotions. Rage for losing what should have been an easy fight. Hatred for the stupidity of my clan and not arriving quicker. Then finally, passion for the one thing I have been craving for years. And let slip through my fingers like air.

Summer of 1801 - Shadow Clan

A high-pitched wail startles me from my endless thoughts—a crack of lightning followed by thunder. I still feel the moon’s power holding me hostage, but a jarring sensation sets me loose.

‘Where? What?’ My voice booms through the Shadow link in a roaring growl.

Relief floods through me from all my followers. No doubt they just recovered my body. It’s about time they did, and now we can get started.

‘King Erebus, is that you?’ my high priest frantically calls out.

‘Yes, you fool, what have you done with my body? We must start the ritual.’

‘Our King, all that remains of you is some hair and a patch of skin we preserved. Sire, we were lucky to get that. The Queen and her court burned you.’

‘No, impossible, it just happened. You were close,’ my mind is racing with questions, 'How did they have time?'

‘Our King, it has been a year since you were defeated,’ the priest says shamefully.

A year that can’t be right? How is that possible? I can see nothing but blackness and only sense that he’s telling the truth. But how dare he insult his King?

‘I was not defeated; can you not hear me?’ I roar, forcing my Alpha tone through the link.

‘Yes, my King, I mean your setback, Sire.’ the priest corrects himself.

‘Now explain!’ I growl at him.

‘It has been twelve full moons since you were last seen or heard from Sire.’

‘Impossible!’ I would beat him if I could, but I could only shout at him, useless without a body.

‘Sire, we are working to help you. We have been researching nonstop, ensuring we keep the link open to you,’ he says.

‘How is it being maintained?’ It’s my only means of contact; therefore, it must stay active.

‘Betas blood helps Sire; we add your preserved flesh to a mixture of blood each month. But it would seem we can only speak on the day you disappeared, Sire.’

‘That’s going to make things difficult.’

‘Yes, our King, but we are close,’ the priest claims.

‘Then work faster. I expect better.’ it has been a year already.

Summer of 1850

‘Fools, report!’ I bellow coming to life once again.

‘We are working hard, our King, old magic looks promising to help you complete a transfer!’ the high priest answers as usual.

‘And when will you be ready?’ I snarled out.

‘That’s still to be determined, Sire.’

‘And why is that?’ my aggravation pours through the link.

‘The ingredients are rare, and we need confirmation on a few more things, sir.’

‘As if this weren’t taking long enough, it’s been years already!’

‘Yes, our King. But we will succeed,’ the priest prattles on.

Every time I return, it’s the same: excuses and false hope. For fifty years, I have drifted in limbo. Not alive, but not dead either. This semi-conscious state, unable to effect change, only works to aggravate me more each year.

Summer of 1965

‘You’d better have news!’

‘Our King, we failed in our first attempt. There is still something we are missing. The husk did not work.’

‘Husk, what husk?’ They had told me before, but it could have been years.

‘Yes, Sire, we found a ritual to imbue a husk for you to inhabit,’ the high priest sounds tired.

‘How did you manage that?’

‘With a few sacrifices, a follower with Fae blood to create the skin. We then used a sacrificed Wolf’s heart for the tether, and the moon’s power was supposed to let you rise. But as you are still talking via the link and not through the husk, it failed.’

‘You fools!’

‘Yes, Sire, we are, but we continue to work towards your return.’

These years of only being a voice to the clan are taking a toll. The ignorance of these people I may never get back. They are useless without me.

Summer of 1973

‘Report!’

Over the years, their voices have changed, but their mission is the same; find a suitable body for my return. It has been a hundred and seventy-three years since I last felt my body.

‘Our King, it is with great conviction that I announce we may yet succeed,’ the new high priest states.

‘Well then, spit it out, fool. You act like I have time,’ my tone is not joking.

‘My King, the husk ritual, we found the missing pieces. And it will be enacted soon.’

‘How soon?’ I bellow in anger.

‘If all goes well, Sire, twenty-five more years.’

‘What? More waiting!” I snarl.

‘Yes, Sire, it’s very complex.’

‘And you think of me as a fool?’

‘No, King Erebus, you are not. I’m a fool, Sire.’

‘Then explain,’ I roared.

‘You need a chosen she-wolf for you to impregnate. Her offspring shall be your new body when fully matured at twenty-five.’

‘What chosen, I have none?’ the fool is taking his time explaining.

‘One of your followers, Sire. She volunteers her virginal daughter, Vienna, to be your chosen. The girl will then carry your vessel. We must perform the husk ritual so that you can imbue her, Sire.’ All I can do is growl.

‘It will succeed, my King. The rituals and ingredients are ready. We wait for the eclipse next year, which coincides with your arrival, to do both rituals simultaneously.’ I do not respond except to scoff, and he continues.

‘The power of the eclipse will fuel the husk and allow you to animate it.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ He was taking his time explaining as though I were a novice at magic.

‘We then perform another ritual for you, and you’re chosen. You can transfer some of your life-force energy to her; she will be with your child.’

‘Then we wait?’ I snarled.

‘Yes, our King. At twenty-five, he will be ready for you to possess.’

‘How exactly? I will not have a hand!’ I know the transfer spell requires me to touch my vessel.

‘We sacrifice his mother and anoint him with her blood. You can finish the spell you started all those years ago on that undeserving mate of Emera’s through the link. And you are reborn, younger, stronger, faster, and we have our King once more.’

Summer of 1974

‘The eclipse is upon us. Hurry up. Your King has waited long enough.’

‘The husk is ready, Sire. As soon as the eclipse starts, the husk should rise.’

‘And the girl?’

‘Yes, Sire. Your Chosen, Vienna, is being anointed now.’

‘Do not fail me!’

‘No, our King.’

The power I feel is immense, sensing all my followers. I can almost see the outlines of their aura in the link. The longest minutes of my existence pass in a blur as they start to chant.

‘Sire, the eclipse has started!’ I hear all of them now.

‘Rise, King Erebus. Imbue this husk and rise. Control this husk. Rise.’ Their chanting gets louder.

The process feels like it’s taking forever when a spark pushes my shadow into the husk. Moonlight shining above fuels the power of this casting. Another bolt of lighting cements my hold on inside the body.

It is a poor fit and slouches grotesquely. Long loose skin stitched together with thread entwined with the rest of my hair. The preserved patch of skin lay coated in blood upon the bulb of the head, like a crown.

Once I control it well enough, I walk to the altar where the chosen will be, and the ritual will conclude. My chosen, Vienna, then appears. She bows to my makeshift form. Then she begins her chant.

‘Husk of King Erebus, I am your Chosen, Vienna. I will carry the vessel for you. My sacrifice will be your key,’ she lies on the altar naked, presenting herself to me as the new husk.

She is marked with my sigil on her stomach, the shadow wolf. An oversized black wolf silhouette is painted on her belly. I place one swollen hand on her flat stomach and the other on her virginal core. Only barely penetrating her with a swollen nub of a finger when a new chant begins.

‘Let the energy create the vessel. King Erebus will be reborn. His vessel to claim at twenty-five.’

Over and over, they chant until a loud clap of thunder and another surge of lightning creek from the sky through the husk. It is excruciating as a part of my energy drains into the chosen.

A black shadow rivets down my arm into her. The energy surges through us, covering her body in a menacing glow. The emblem on her stomach dissolves into her skin like a shadow. She screams and convulses until her back arches as she pants heavily, falling back to the altar unconscious.

‘It is done, Sire!’

The Guardian Oracle - Summer of 1974 - Wolf Island

In these final days with my family, I enjoy sitting outside lounging with my granddaughter. She always makes the most delicious strawberry tea, and it’s how I know her. The soft aroma matches her true scent as she passes me a cup. Having lost my eyesight, I have learned to rely on my other senses.

“Can you taste the sweetness, Gran? It’s divine,” she asks, sipping her tea.

“Yes, my sweet girl, I can,” I respond in a sing-song voice after taking my first gulp.

My granddaughter fills my ears with her talks about training and cooking. I love listening to her life. It’s as though I can see every moment through the words. My dreams have always been filled with the history of my family. Sometimes I even see their future as I’m the last oracle of my line. I’m lulled to sleep as the pictures of her life dance around in my head.

I watch as my granddaughter’s beautiful face fills my mind. It shows her when she was born and growing into a willful young lady. Then it changes to her defending our home from the Shadow clan. She is a fast wolf and bested many foes protecting our lands.

The dream slowly morphs again. Now she’s leaving the village to start her life, but she is sad. Her eyes look lonely, staring at the ocean as tears fall into the hostile waters. She’s clutching my journal tightly in her arms. This can only mean my end is near.

I am not upset at the chaotic blackness that stretches before me. All the colors of my mind fade and whirl together. But the images don’t stop. They frantically shift and contort to show me a disturbing scene.

A naked and unconscious she-wolf, not my granddaughter, lay panting for her life. She is bound to an altar, unmoving, but she is pregnant. Her belly swells, and above her, I see a hideous man-shaped mess wither and fall to the ground beside the altar. A dark shadow hovers there now with a menacing purpose.

“It is done, Sire,” comes a voice of finality.

The dark shadow suddenly cackles, ascending back into the moon as the eclipse fades. A shriek leaves me as the image breaks, but no one hears it. I know in my heart that this is the worst thing imaginable. The Shadow Wolf has returned.

The colors again dance in the forefront of my senses, but this time they are lovely. Purple, silver, black, gold, blue, gray, orange, and red lights. They form the shape of a white dahlia flower as it blossoms open. The moment is breathtaking when a booming female voice begins to speak.

“A summit to bring the secondborn three, one can sense, and they will see.

Moon cover shows the ways of the mark, and all must embark.

Carry the fated and explore the plains, or the sacrifice will be in vain.

The hidden guardian holds a key for the innocent to speak through the three.

Together in one, Clans will stand at their call as enemies fall.

The shadow must surrender to the One, or the four will be undone.

If victory comes at the shore, they will have forever more.”

Then a lovely face with amethyst eyes comes into focus. My senses tingle as if in recognition of my family. But the gorgeous girl is a lion, firm and radiant. She is surrounded by those same light swirls, wrapping her in love. The dancing colors fade into her, and I feel myself falling.

There are no more images or light dancing, only peace. I wake suddenly on the ground in my granddaughter’s arms while she frantically calls for help. Soon my fated mate, children, and grandchildren surrounded us.

Their voices are tainted with sorrow by my frailty. My body is heavy, and I sense my end is near. With my dying breath, I tell them what I saw. The Shadow. The She-wolf. The Lioness. I recited the prophecy as well as I could remember while they scrambled to write, but I was fading fast.

“My family, I love you all. We must guard the bloodline; the shadow will be reborn soon,” I say, reaching out with a shaking hand.

My granddaughter, my sweet strawberry child, will carry the burden now. I feel my blood shivering as I hold her like I knew it would. I wish I had more time to share the knowledge of my gift, but she will learn as I did through her dreams.

“My life for the bloodline. We must protect and help her flourish and bloom. Share the prophecy. The Guardians will see to it, as we are not the last. The shadow must not take her, or all is lost, promise me.”

“I will, Gran. I promise to do all I can,” my granddaughter responded to me in a hurry.

With a proud heart, my remaining life force shifts to her. All my love for my family and people pour into her. I’m pleased she is the one to help our Queen. I finally fade into peace, knowing she will see it through.