“Tell me why I shouldn’t burn Makefort to the ground for the fucking stunt you just pulled?” Clythia’s voice in the astral plane didn’t carry the same menace as it should have; it was soft, its vibration like a peaceful stream.

Wait, how did she know it was the astral plane? She had never been here before, nor was she aware that such a plane existed. But somehow, the knowledge felt like recalling her name.

“No need for the threat. Makefort is already collapsing on itself,” the wolf replied, his eyes like those of a wounded dog. “I deeply apologize for what I just did, but I need your help, Witch Queen. I have heard that DavinSaw, Nadir, and Zalax are the ones who have found a solution, and my kingdom needs this right now.”

“I don’t fucking care,” said Clythia.

The wolf’s expression didn’t falter; he was still, staring down at her with soft eyes.

“You have just committed a huge violation of privacy. This might be normal for you dogs, but snatching my spirit out of my body because you felt like it—that’s fucking unnerving. How can you do that? I never knew you could do that. Is it a wolf thing? And you have the audacity to ask for my help? You know you can send a letter like the last time.”

“Like the one I sent you hoping you would share my concern. Like the one you read and ignored, disregarding my warning about the blight in front of every other leader in Zyvern. That’s the reason why you’re in this exact mess. It’s your fucking fault your kingdom is screwed, Glythia.”

“Yes, it is my fault. I let this happen,” the wolf’s chin dipped, lowering his eyes to the swaying grass. “I thought this blight was just a fluke that would pass. And now, I am paying for it gravely. My kingdom is suffering because of it, and that’s why I came to you. You had expected me to be at your side during the meeting, and I didn’t comply. But please, I wouldn’t have invaded you in such a manner if it weren’t necessary. I couldn’t send a letter because it would take weeks for it to reach DavinSaw. I don’t have the luxury of that amount of time. I had to contact you here—the fastest way.” His gaze fixed on her. “And yes, it’s a wolf thing.”

Between his furry paws, a silver bracelet appeared. “Take this. It will help protect you from any mind intrusion. Including me.”

Clythia lowered herself, her eyes still on the wolf, and picked it up.

The bracelet featured beads designed as a wolf and a crescent. “And why should I believe you?”

"Before the blight how often did we met?"

"Every fifteen years."

“Yes, not even our fathers and our father’s fathers met beyond the obligation of the Tithe. But how many things have changed since the blight? Changes we are incapable of controlling?”

The werewolf king was right. Forget the notion of “since the blight.” What Clythia had encountered in the last forty-eight hours amounted to more unwarranted adventure than her entire lifetime. Perhaps the Final Tribulation could come close to that, but even then, she knew what the challenges were.

Within the span of two days, she had an emergency meeting with the lords and ladies of DavinSaw about the unprecedented consequences of Shadow’s magic. That night, she met Tiyus—which she had now started to believe might be a fabric of her imagination, given the shock and all. Then came the seer; she didn’t know what to make of her yet. She blabbered something about a queen who left her bed for a pact with the wise and scattered on her face like a torn sack. And now Glythia had introduced her to 'astral plane kidnapping’ in the most unnerving way possible.

But the king of Makefort and the werewolves, the Prime, was begging her for help despite his methods—an unbecoming deed for any Zyvern ruler.

“You owe me, Glythia. If I share this knowledge with you, I will ask you for a favor one day, and you won’t back away from it,” she said.

“What will you ask of me?” The wolf shifted his paws and the grass beneath rustled.

Clythia did everything in her power not to flinch at the slight movement. She was so small before him; he could crush her if he wanted to. Could she even die in the astral plane? She hoped their conversation wouldn’t lead to that.

“Things are changing for Zyvern. There might come a time when I could need to pull a favor. Need.” She sighed. “Need will be the new factor for all of us, and I might need something from you, something important.”

The wolf said nothing.

“Take it or leave it, Glythia. You need my help, strike a bargain you won’t back away from.”

The wolf’s nostrils flared, and a gust of wind rushed out, fluttering her hair. For a moment, Clythia dreaded he was about to squash her, but then she realized the monumental beast was just sighing, contemplating her offer.

“You have my utmost loyalty, Witch Queen. I hope it won’t be as expensive as one’s dignity.”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “No wonder your kingdom is in shambles. What is dignity before your crown? Isn’t it just a twisted form of ego? The price to keep your kingdom safe is steep, Wolf, and its consequences are great.”

“That is a way to lose one’s self. You can’t lead a kingdom without setting boundaries,” the wolf’s expression hardened.

“My boundary is my kingdom, and I will do anything for it,” Clythia chuckled. His condescension, coated with an idealistic train of thought, should have annoyed her, but why would it? Soon, his conscience would be tortured—forced to choose between sacrifice and the destruction of his kingdom... that would be an interesting sight to behold.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“We will see how long your smugness will last,” she grinned, cocking her head. “I made a sacrifice to The Shadow. It is a mag—”

“You didn’t,” the werewolf sneered, revealing his blinding white teeth.

“Oh, so you do know of it. Then why are you here?”

“For the hope of the right cure and the Shadow is not it." His sneer elevated to a growl, the sharp fangs gleaming with saliva. "Everyone in my kingdom knows it. It is whispered in our fairy tales, to scares naughty kids into doing what they are told. The Shadow is the demon, the darkness, and the villain of our stories. And you have succumbed your land and your kingdom to it?”

“Yes, I did. And get your smelly breath off my face,” she said, swatting the air between them. His breath didn’t actually smell; it was merely an excuse to deflect her anxiety. If those teeth sunk into her...

“I want no part of this price.”

“Then what are you going to do? There will be no kingdom for you to rule without the Sovereign’s magic. Your land will decay,” she warned.

The canine’s mouth closed.

“You will be responsible for the loss of millions of lives. So, are you saying your ‘dignity’ is worth all those lives? Are you that selfish, Glythia?”

The wolf went still for a moment, blue eyes intense on her.

“I will confront the Sovereign.”

“You can’t possibly be daft enough to barge into Stormia alone when your kingdom needs you the most. Do you think I would have called for an emergency meeting if I could do it alone, least of all with you people?” His ears perked up. “No offense, but the Sovereign won’t be pleased by your intrusion, and Stormia is the most dangerous continent.”

“If my memory serves me well,” his snout zoomed towards her, filling her field of vision, “the Shadow’s magic has its own limitations. My kingdom’s infrastructure is constructed by magic; without it, it will turn to ruins. And to stay sane, the Shadow had to be wielded only three times a day, did it not? Unless that was only a myth.”

Clythia’s silence was his confirmation.

“My kingdom needs a steady supply of magic to remain as it is, and if I use the Shadow’s magic continuously, I will lose its inhabitants, and only the land will remain standing. And if I don’t use it, the land will be in ruins.”

A musical chuckle left Clythia’s throat. “And here I thought it was because of decency. You might think you are better than us, Glythia, but at the end of the day, you are only doing what’s best for your kingdom. At least I got a deal out of this mishap, while you wasted your time.”

Disappointment splattered on the wolf’s features.

“I am curious though,” she said, “what does the Shadow demand in Makefort?”

“No one knows until they gain an audience with it.”

That made sense. The Shadow was a sentient entity. In DavinSaw, it had its reasons for the sacrifice of the Children of the Forest. It was because of a feud they had a long time ago, even before the current settlers of Zyvern, before the seven kingdoms, before the Sovereign. The Shadow was distantly related to the Children of the Forest, and the mystery shrouding their feud was a family secret even Ilyana wasn't aware of.

“Well, I wish you all the best of luck in your endeavors,” Clythia said with a clap. “To die a quick death and not an agonizing one in Stormia.”

“You will come to regret your choice, Witch Queen.”

Then his blue eyes shut tightly.

Clythia began to fall away, the scent of brimstone filling her nose, her surroundings bleeding into a painting of shooting stars in a dark night. The dark pages turned, revealing the dining hall, her spirit racing towards her body before she could make out the two blurs in the room.

She inhaled deeply, as though she had been underwater for a while, her lungs burning for air they had been denied. Her eyes bulged open.

Clen was on his feet, joined by Arkansov. Their countenances were pale with shock.

“My lady, are you alright?” Arkansov scuttled forward, the sun pouring through the stained glass sparkling on his gold armor.

“Mom, what happened?” Clen asked, his tone filled with dread.

Once her breath had steadied enough for her to form the words, she assured them she was fine.

They stared at her in silence, Clen settling back in his seat.

“It was the Prime. Apparently, he has the power to contact—more like kidnap—your spirit.” Then, remembering, she opened her palms; the silver bracelet was there. It was impressive that objects could be transported from the astral plane, but it also confirmed her concern that death in the astral plane was as permanent as a physical one.

She clasped it around her wrist. “He wanted to know if there was a way to stop the blight. But he already knew about the Shadow.”

“The Shadow?” Clen asked, but Clythia was staring at the general who had been pondering it for a while until he found the courage to ask about it this morning.

But more than for the general, she was going to explain for her son. For the prince who would take the throne one day. For the future king of DavinSaw. He needed to know what it would take for him to rule a vast continent with a whopping millions of people.

She began to recount, not sparing a detail about her failed magic and the Tome. Then, she delved into the lore of the Children of the Forest in Dadigon, followed by the Shadow. Its reign before the current era. When she reached the part about the sacrifice, her son’s face blanched. He was staring at his mother as if seeing her for the first time. A new creature with the wings of a demon. Arkansov was shaking his head, restraining himself from interrupting.

“...So that’s the reason why DavinSaw isn’t collapsing on itself.”

A silence rippled in the dining hall. No one moved. No one blinked. The flabbergasted looks on her son and the general lasted for a while before the general broke the silence.

“You killed a boy? A child?” The general’s voice was a whimper.

“I did.”

Why was everyone making such a big deal about the sacrifice? She had felt a tinge of guilt for her action, but it wouldn’t have been a sacrifice if she hadn’t. Besides, it was a cruel humor of fate. It shouldn’t have mattered; any Child of the Forest would do. “Child” was just a general term for the mysterious race residing in Dadigon. But, unfortunately, an innocent boy waltzed into the trap, marking him as a martyr of DavinSaw.

“You are a mother yourself. How could you slaughter a child and admit it before your own son?” The general furrowed his brows.

“Have you ever eaten beef, Arkansov?” Her voice was calm.

“What does that have to do with—”

“Answer me,” she snapped.

“Yes, I have.”

“The beef you ate was a child of a bull and a cow. But it ended up in your belly. A far more selfish reason to end a life than saving a kingdom.” Clythia began rapping her fingernails on the table, the sound reverberating through the hollow room.

Clen’s gaze dragged from her face to her nails.

"Anyone can be the beef before its hunter." She said holding Clen's gaze. "I could be the cow and you could be the calf. It won't matter in the eye of the monster. I hope the analogy didn't offend you, son."

The whites of Clen’s eyes glistened. “So, Mother, where is the bull?”

Clythia was taken aback, her brows lifting. Not in a million years had she expected Clen to inquire about his father after thirty years, the time he had dropped the question completely—or so she thought. It was a topic she had avoided since he became aware of what a father was and questioned his whereabouts, saddened by the fact he didn’t have a father to give him presents like the other kids did.

Clythia had only planned to reveal his whereabouts when he was older, when he could muster the truth, when he was ready. But now, ready or not, he was old enough to fathom.

“The cow slaughtered the bull and blamed it on another bull, who became beef the very next day. The best day for the cow... One stone, two bulls.”