Chapter 16 – The Harvest of Shadows

                I remained pinned to the rough pine bark, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm that I feared the beast might hear. Every pulse of my blood felt like a drumbeat in the silence of the Solstice night.

                And then, impossibly, the creature shifted. Where the beast had crouched moments before, a man now stood.

                A Shaman!

                He was older, his hair a wild cascade of gray, his beard a tangled mess of unkempt strands. A sharp, pointed mustache lent his face a sinister, aristocratic edge despite the rags he wore. His garments were strange, marked with ancient symbols and hand-painted patterns that whispered of forgotten, macabre rituals. He looked ancient, but I knew better than to trust appearances. Shamans wore age like a mask, their shabby exteriors concealing a power that ignored time.

                ‘So it truly is a Shaman,’ Era snarled, low and dangerous. ‘What was he planning for us? Romani warned that they use our blood to strengthen themselves in vile ceremonies. Our witch side feeds them the magic they twist into evil. I remember reading that Shamans carry glass vials of blood, drinking from them like wine. Disgusting, parasitic creatures.’

                A shiver of revulsion ran down my spine, cooling the heat in my veins.

                 She was right. The stories I had studied in the old tomes, the illustrations etched into forbidden books, they all spoke of Shamans and their blood-filled vessels. When I thought of the countless hybrids slaughtered to fuel these monsters, my own blood began to boil with a different kind of fire.

                ‘Calm yourself, human,’ Era cautioned, though her own voice trembled with feral rage. ‘Let’s see what he does now that he’s failed to catch us. Will he surrender, or will he hunt another victim tonight?’

                “The night is still young,” I murmured to the wind. “We have time to watch him. What if we perch unseen in the highest tree?”

                Guiding my broom with a flick of my wrist, I descended toward a massive, ancient pine. I wedged the broomstick between two stout branches like a bridge and leaned carefully against the trunk. My light frame was a blessing, the limb creaked only faintly beneath me. From here, the view was perfect.

                 The Shaman’s hut lay directly below, and he remained blissfully unaware of the hybrid watching him from the canopy. He paced, his movements agitated and jerky.

                ‘I wonder what he’ll do next,’ Era mused, her ears pricked. ‘He doesn’t seem the type to linger long, maybe a few weeks at most. What if you cast a spell to make him speak? Force him to confess his plans?’

                I grinned down at the restless figure. “That man has gifts, fool,” I reminded my wolf. “He would sense a spell the instant the words left my lips, and then our cover would be blown. Better to wait. Let him lead us to the truth.”

                Disappointed, she curled her tail and fell into a sulky silence.

                An hour drifted by in the frozen quiet of the woods, the forest alive with whispers of the wind and the rustling of silver-tipped leaves.

                At last, our patience was rewarded.

From the distance came a faint sound, a soft, rhythmic disturbance among the branches. Something or someone was moving closer, expertly hidden by the canopy and thick shrubs. My breath caught as the figure approached the Shaman’s hut with the confidence of one who owned the forest.

                First, a powerful golden-brown muzzle emerged from the shadows.

                A wolf!

                I held my breath, every nerve in my body drawn taut like a bowstring. But as the creature stepped fully into the clearing, I knew instantly this was no ordinary wolf. The aura, the sheer crushing weight of its presence, was unmistakable.

                It was a Lycan!

And then, before my eyes, it shifted. The transformation was swift, seamless, and unsettlingly beautiful. When it was complete, I realized my own hand had flown to my mouth, stifling the cry of shock that rose in my throat.

                Standing there, bathed in the moonlight, was a face I knew far too well.

‘That is… that is…,’ Era stuttered, unable to call out the name of the visitor. My eyes widened. Of  all the people in the world, this figure was the last person I expected to see here.

                ‘Secretary Eric!’ my wolf and I whispered, simultaneously incredulously.

Seconds of utter astonishment followed as we stared at both men below. There was no friendly vibe between them; they seemed more like rivals, as if they didn't really trust each other. Eric had discarded his spectacles, his face hardened into something cold, calculating, and bureaucratically cruel.

                “Is she with you? Did you manage to catch her?” the Shaman asked eagerly, rubbing his hands together in the chill. “Don't forget the deal, Eric. I need my share of the sacrifice.”

                Eric snorted contemptuously, his hands planted on his hips. The arrogant posture he maintained at the Palace was magnified tenfold here.

                “Your contribution wasn't exactly decisive, old man. If we hadn't left the Palace ourselves and she hadn't run straight into our arms, we would have lost her, you idiot. Your traps were useless.”

                The Shaman bared his teeth, clearly furious at the Secretary's response.

                “It was still because of me that you could have traced her! If I hadn't chased her in your direction, she'd be in Human Town by now and we'd have lost her forever. Make sure you keep your end of the bargain. Isn't the mating or whatever ceremony tonight?”

                The blood rushed to my head.

                The world tilted on its axis.

                So, my encounter with Romani was no coincidence. The scumbags knew I was nearby in the woods. It was a setup from the very beginning, a choreographed play designed to tame the ‘wild hybrid’ and lead her to the abattoir.

                To think that Romani was so gallant and courteous!

                It was all professional acting, a ruse to lure me into a sense of security.

“Don't worry,” Eric said with a chilling laugh. “Elara will be more than happy to collect your share of her blood. A liter will suffice for the opening rituals. And once I've drugged and mated her tonight, we can get more out of the hybrid pups. A complete factory awaits Romani, his power will be unrivaled in supernatural society.”

                I felt a sickening cold wash through my stomach. If he thought his words would reassure his business partner, that didn't seem to be the case.

                “One liter and the first female pup are mine. That's the deal,” the Shaman blurted out, his voice trembling with greed. “I want my own hybrid factory too. Don't be stingy, Eric.”

                My mouth dropped open in sheer shock.

                The depravity of their words was almost too much to process. It dawned on me with a horrific clarity. The ceremony was never planned for my installation as the Crown Prince's mate.        This gang was planning to breed me with the Secretary, not Romani, but his lapdog Eric and use me as a living blood tap. My hybrid pups wouldn't be raised as royal heirs, they would be traded as commodities.

                ‘Era, you see. Always follow your gut,’ I whispered, tears of rage stinging my eyes. ‘From the beginning, I wasn't really fond of Romani. My instincts warned me and protected me from these vicious mates and power-hungry beasts. They didn't see me as a person, they saw a machine. A factory.’

                Era remained silent. It was a heavy, agonizing silence. The romantic dreams she had woven about Princes and Palaces were torn to shreds by a single conversation. The ‘Prince’ she wanted was nothing more than a decoy for a human trafficking and blood-magic operation.

                “As soon as the moon hits its zenith,” Eric continued, oblivious to the horror I felt above him, “I’ll bring her to the vault beneath the ceremony hall. The public will think we are blessing the union. In reality, I’ll drain her until she has just enough left to breed.”

                I sighed deeply, the sound lost in the wind. This meant a nightmare. I wasn't in a romance, I was in a survival horror.

                ‘After this lunar trip, we're going straight to Human Town, Era. As far away as possible from these evil creatures. No more Palaces, no more wolves, no more promises.’

                This time, Era didn't argue.

                She let out a low, murderous growl that vibrated through my entire being. The Heat was still there, but the lust was gone, replaced by a cold, lethal focus.

                I looked down one last time at the men who had already sold my life before I could even claim it.

                They thought they had trapped a prey. They thought a witch-hybrid was an easy mark for their greed.

                I gripped my broom tighter, the copper wire biting into my palms. I wasn't just going to flee to Human Town. I was going to ensure their ‘factory’ burned to the ground before the sun rose.

                “Sleep well, Eric,” I whispered into the dark night. “Enjoy your last hours as Secretary. Because the moon belongs to me.”