The Lycan King's Mate
“These huts must be centuries old.”
I nodded before getting inside one of them.
The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and earth. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, their covers worn and cracked from time.
“These books…” Helga whispered, tracing a finger over the spines. “They must be over a thousand years old.”
Intrigued, I picked one up. The moment my fingers grazed the cover, It glowed.
I gasped, stepping back. The whole room seemed to shimmer, the air growing thick with energy. My heart hammered as the light shot out from the book, encasing me.