Witch Bandora Novels & Stories

“I toast to my two sons, Lucien and Maverick for making me proud like they've always done,” Roxie frowned. Wasn't Kaizen his son too? Her head snapped over to where Kaizen sat staring at a piece of stake on his plate with his arms crossed over his chest like it was murdered unjustly. “The toast is quite unfair. You have three sons, Lucien, Maverick and Kaizen,” an alpha on the table pointed out, probably drunk from wolf band. Roxie learned wolf band was what got werewolves intoxicated instead of the normal alcohol but an overdose of it weakened their wolves temporarily.

People wearing glowsticks and light-up jewelry are dancing while music pounds over speakers. “This is just the opening party,” Caleb explains, leaning down to shout near my ear. “The band will come on soon. They’re one of my favorite bands - they’re called Fangs Of The Seven Castles, and all the members are werewolves!” “Whoah!” I didn’t know werewolves had their own bands. “Is everyone here also a wolf?”

she looks horrified at the prospect that I haven’t. I explain to her that we don’t use bands to talk to one another. “The bands back in my home are used to communicate between families, and never words, more like images and feelings.” The drakaina looks up at the sky, says something under her breath, and tries her best to keep a pleasant look on her face as she grimaces. “It’s not very different. Our bands aren’t attuned to just one person or place. If you don’t know the person, you need to give a location or designation number, but if it’s someone you usually speak with, you only need to say their name. Your crown does the rest. You asked to send a message, I just assumed you knew.”

His eyes found Lyra, then Ryker, then shifted to the line of wards humming down the slope, and something in his soul approved. A hand tapped my shoulder. The bandleader—an old friend from the ridge with calloused fingers and a voice like oak—grinned. “You promised us a song, Alora.” I laughed, nerves and warmth tangling. “I did.” Blaise leaned in, breath at my ear. “Sing for us, love.” I stepped onto the small platform. The crowd turned as if pulled by the same tide. The band played softly at first, a gentle tune, the kind that leaves room for a heart to find its first love. Ryker drew Lyra closer; her fingers threaded with his.