Chapter 1: Kael
There was a thief in my tower.
I sat hunched at my writing desk, half-asleep, the leather of the chair cold and stiff beneath me. My fingers worked to sharpen a quill, the repetitive scrape against the small blade a futile attempt to settle my restless mind. The open journal before me lay blank, its pages mocking me with their emptiness.
The forest stirred around me, murmuring secrets in the language of shifting branches and rustling leaves. The moon hung heavy in the sky, its light spilling silver over the snowy landscape, casting long shadows that crawled up the jagged walls of the tower I called my home.
Or my prison.
The faint smell of wax and ink mingled with the cool draft that seeped through the ill-fitted stonework. I’d left the fireplace untended tonight; a fire’s glow might attract unwanted eyes. It didn’t matter that I was miles from the nearest town. Paranoia was second nature now.
The scrape of quill against the blade paused as my ears caught the sound.
At first, it was a whisper, the faintest creak of wood bending beneath weight. Then, more distinct—the muffled rustle of fabric against a wall. A silence followed, then came the sound of a flint being struck.
I straightened in my chair, listening intently. My senses sharpened. The scrape of my chair’s leg against stone as I stood felt louder than thunder. The air in the room thickened as my instincts roused, my heart pounding against the cage of my ribs.
This wasn’t the first time someone had dared to enter this forsaken tower. Hunters, vagrants, or children on dares—curiosity brought them here, always to their detriment. None had returned.
Not because of me, I reminded myself sharply. But because the forest is merciless.
My superior hearing helped me make out the sound of a footstep, slow and stealthy.
My blood ran cold, then surged hot. Even as I tried to tamp it down, rage bubbled to life in my veins, forcing an instinctive urge to roar and leap at the unknown thief’s throat for daring to step intomydomain—
No. I was no unthinkingbeastto be ruled by my instincts.
The sting of my claws pricking my palms brought me back to myself, and I forced my fingers to open before I could lose my senses. I closed my eyes, willing the magic to settle, the transformation to subside. The beast stirred beneath my skin, hungry and impatient.
Steady,I told myself, and just like that, I could hear my old Sergeant’s voice again, as if Varshid was standing beside me on the eve of battle once more, even though he’d been dead for nearly two years now.
Steady, Kael. Whatever awaits us, we’ll face it with a cool head.
I had to remind myself—I was not an animal. Not yet.
My hand brushed the thick wool of my cloak as I swept it from its hook, fastening it over the plain tunic and breeches I wore. The garments were rough but serviceable, the kind a farmer might wear. No insignia, no embellishments to mark me as anything but a nameless man in hiding.
The thief had stopped moving. A faint hiss reached my ears—the unmistakable sound of flint striking steel. Candlelight. My pulse quickened.
I moved to the window, pressing my back against the cold stone wall. Snowflakes floated lazily on the breeze, landing on my cheeks and bare hands as I calculated the distance. The floorboards below creaked again, heavier this time.
I acted.
Swinging one leg over the ledge, I felt the night air rush against my skin as I eased myself down the side of the tower. My fingers found holds in the crumbling stone, muscles stretching with the effort. I dropped silently to the window below, fingers catching the sill to steady myself.
I landed on the floor in a crouch, my vision switching to adapt itself to the candlelight.
The room was empty. The faint flicker of a newly lit candle cast warm light over shelves groaning under the weight of ancient tomes, their spines cracked and faded. An iron cauldron sat in one corner, cobwebs stretched across its rim.
Where was the intruder?
The soft pitter-patter of footsteps told me that the thief had been alerted to my presence. They were on the stairs, trying to escape. I sprang to my feet and looked out of the window to see a cloaked figure emerge from the doorand rush away into the woods that surrounded my tower.
A smile split my face, my fang digging into my lower lip.
This thief would find out they couldn’t outrunme.
With a snarl, I turned, leaping from the window into the cold embrace of the forest. My boots landed soundlessly in the snow, and I straightened, scanning the treeline. There—a flash ofmovement. A figure, cloaked and stumbling, fleeing toward the shadows of the woods.
