HUNJI

Day 3 of the quest I had been given by our Queen, Lamia: To find the witch Morgan, Finnegan’s sister, and bring her home.

I was already a day behind, the truck I had been given by the now Alpha Jasper of Bhakhil, broke down yesterday morning. Causing me to run in wolf form, find a cave in the foothills of the Andora Mountain range and rest for the night. At first light I shifted into my wolf, letting Ruda lead the way, once again.

Some hours later, well into the late afternoon, we had made our way to the first city, only a couple of hundred miles outside the capital where the Megaron was situated in Bozgvol. I shifted back into my human form behind a house on the outskirts and threw on the loose pair of pants I had stuffed in my backpack, fastening the retractable vest that held my swords.

It had been years since I had traveled through Andora, 9 to be exact. Andora was a beautiful and rich country, surrounded by a border of low-laying mountains rich with quartz. most structures were made with sandstone, but the richer cities were built using granite and imported marble from their neighbor.

Andora was home to many shifter races, all living in harmony. It’s where the entrepreneurs and traders gathered, making their way to the capital to sell their goods to the scholars and rich. Nine years ago, I had come here under orders in search of the chosen. My mentors believed that if the new queen had been born, it would most likely be in this country. I had wasted over a year looking for her here, only to find her four years later on the first continent in an Academy for Alphas.

I remember the first day I laid eyes on her. Lamia Langley. Barely seventeen and taller than most she-wolves; strawberry blond hair with a black streak that stood out. Her eyes were the most captivating green I had ever seen, like the purest of emeralds from the richest of mines. When she smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back at her, the warmth of that smile seeping deep into your heart. Even my cold dead heart had reacted, my wolf, Ruda had whimpered at the sight of her. Mentally rolling over ready to comply and do anything she asked. We immediately knew who she was, immediately felt protective over her, drawn to her. Don’t ask me how or why, because that didn’t matter, and I couldn’t give myself or anyone that answer.

I was 28 at the time, eleven years her senior, and for the longest time, I confused my connection to her with something more than just being protective. I thought I was in love with her. Both my wolf and I looked forward to spending every day with her, the reason we convinced ourselves to get up in the morning and suffer the pretense of being a teacher - Letting the Academy Deans and other professors think we were something we were not.

Until it was time for her and the prince to leave the academy earlier than expected. I left with them under the disguise of protecting the prince, Kellen. When truly I was there for her.

It became apparent to me early on how strong she was, how capable and fierce she could be. Yet, as tough as Lamia was, she had a kindness about herself - a sense of justification, a love she would give to anyone and see them for who they were. That’s what scared me about her, that her innocence could be taken advantage of, and her ability to forgive would be used against her. The more I got to know Lamia the more I realized, I wasn’t in love with her, I just loved her. A simple love, akin to an older brother or an uncle but never like the way Mike and Kellen love her. Their threesome was impenetrable and her bond to Kellen was something I was jealous of. Maybe because I knew I never could or ever had that type of bond. Not even with my mate.

Three years later Lamia has now been crowned Queen of shifters, and her now mate Mathias, the king of bears, is crowned alongside her as the king of shifters.

When the King of the werewolves, Kellen, went missing she had asked me to accompany his Beta Mike, and King Mathias’ 2nd in command, Tobias, to go find him and bring him home because she couldn’t. She trusted me with the job she couldn’t and then gave me the task of finding a witch. Morgan. The sister of Finnegan, the half-brother to Mathias, and both are the son of the now dead Orion; Killed by Mathias’s own hands in the battle for Riocht.

I’m the old man of the group and no matter how much they value me, I will never be a part of them, Knight of the queen or not. I am the expendable one, the one that shouldn’t be here, and the one that shouldn’t be alive. By all accounts, I should have died 13 years ago. A question I always ask myself, every time my eyes open: why am I still alive? Why did the gods let that old priestess find me so many moons ago and bring me back from the dead? Why did they allow me to live?

I still wonder what my role is in this story; believe me, there is more to this story than any of us know. I can feel it, see it unfolding, almost taste it. The last three years have just been a prelude to something bigger, something yet unseen and unknown. Lamia and Mathias may be the main characters, but we all had a role, an important part to play. Unfortunately, the script of our lives had been hidden away or maybe it just hasn’t been written yet.

So here I am in Andora, a city on the outskirts of the country. Looking around I see a sign for a bed and breakfast. It was late in the afternoon, too late to carry on my journey to Megaron, and could do with a good night’s sleep.