One Night with the Hybrid King
It's on the library floor, a part of the castle I rarely visit, perhaps because I fear confronting what I truly am—half lycan, half enchatress, a combination I’ve always carried as a curse.
The spell hall is vast, the shelves covered with old books and yellowed scrolls, filled with spells I can barely decipher. The light coming through the small windows is weak, filtered by heavy curtains, creating an almost claustrophobic atmosphere.
I feel out of place here, a stranger in a territory that should be familiar. But I have no choice. I run my hands along the shelves, searching for a grimoire that might contain the tracking spell I need, until I finally find a heavy book, its worn leather cover
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