Chapter 9
Henry Was Beheaded
Adolfa - POV
The crowd roared like wolves in a frenzy as Alpha Lyran turned his back on me, storming out of the arena without a word. Coward.
The blood from my last opponent still smeared my cheek, drying into a crusty mask. My muscles screamed from overuse, sweat drenching my skin under my torn training leathers. Thirty brutal minutes of hand-to-hand with a WereFox and a damn vampire tag-team, and the reward? A half-second glance from Lyran. No words. No approval. Just gone.
I staggered to the edge of the training field, heart pounding like war drums. My throat burned with thirst, and my vision blurred slightly. Everything in me ached, but I couldn't let my guard down. Not here. Not now. Not with Prese watching.
I have to survive. I have to live for the prophecy.
They say I'm the blood-born. The one destined to unify the fractured breeds.
Luna Prese watched from the elevated stone balcony, her golden robes shimmering under the twin moons. Her lips, painted red as fresh kill, curled into something between a smile and a threat. She hated me with every fiber of her being.
And I knew why.
She had tried to kill me once before. But today, she wouldn't rely on shadows.
No.
Today, she had called in the archers of Greko Pack — assassins cloaked in silence, their arrows tipped in bone-melting poisons.
I had overheard her plans last night, hidden under the vented canopy by the West Wing while she whispered with Karl.
Prese – POV
"I want you all to listen carefully," I said, voice dripping with velvet rage. "This is not a gathering for peace, or some sentimental drivel. This is war."
The elders circled around the obsidian table, lit by flickering rune-lamps. Their faces reflected the same disdain I carried.
Karl, my second-in-command, slammed a dagger onto the table, its blade soaked in shadowroot venom.
"Her name is Adolfa," he snarled. "She is fast. Too fast. She obeys no rank, no rule. She is the storm before the flood."
"She is the prophecy," one of the younger betas muttered.
"Then we kill the prophecy," I snapped, eyes glowing amber.
I turned to the Greko archers in the corner, cloaked in midnight robes. "Each arrow will carry paralysis venom. One hit to her veins, and her bones will lock like frozen stone. Do you understand?"
The leader bowed low. "She will not see the dawn."
Back to Adolfa – Arena
The energy shifted.
Suddenly, silence replaced the cheering crowd. My head snapped up.
Instinct screamed.
The wind carried a scent—bitter, like charred herbs.
I dove.
Thwip.
The arrow sliced the air where my head had been.
"Assassins!" someone screamed, but too late.
Three more bolts rained down.
One caught my thigh.
Burning.
Liquid fire exploded in my bloodstream, a scream torn from my throat as I collapsed.
No no no—
Another pierced my shoulder.
I couldn't move. My limbs seized, bones locking as if wrapped in stone. I hit the ground hard, the world tilting sideways.
I was dying.
My heart was still beating, but my body was frozen. Eyes wide open. I could see them — Prese smiling triumphantly. Karl beside her, raising his goblet.
I wanted to rip their throats out. I wanted to scream. But nothing came.
Then darkness took me.
Or so I thought.
I wasn't dead.
Not exactly.
I floated. No pain. No gravity. Just… light.
Where am I?
A voice whispered in the darkness.
"You are not done, blood-born."
A huge beast emerged — tall, shadowed, masculine. His eyes burned silver like twin moons, and his body radiated power. I couldn't move, but I could feel him. Every inch of him.
"They tried to end your destiny. But you cannot be killed so easily."
He stepped closer. The heat of him kissed my skin. Bare now — how? — and I was hyperaware of every sensation. His hand touched my jaw, and I gasped as sparks ignited under my skin.
"You were meant for more," he said, voice rumbling low.
"Who are you?" I whispered, trembling.
He smiled.
"I am the one they fear even more than you. And now, I am yours."
Immediately, I gained consciousness again.
But he—whoever he was—vanished into thin air like mist under moonlight.
I blinked hard. "What... what just happened?"
My voice echoed. No reply. Just silence.
I stood up, dizzy, confused. I had no clue where I was. No scent. No trail. No map. Just... nothing. The land was unfamiliar. Foreign. I felt completely lost.
"This can't be real," I muttered, spinning slowly in place. "Where am I?"
Suddenly, my inner eyes snapped open—like a switch had flipped in my soul. A strange heat rushed to my temples. I could see beyond—far beyond.
From miles away, I sensed Prese. I saw Karl. The archers. All of them. Furious. Panicking.
"She's gone?" Prese screamed.
Karl slammed the table. "Impossible! She was paralyzed—how the hell did she vanish?"
"She wasn't supposed to survive," one of the Greko archers growled.
Prese's eyes glowed with rage. "Find her! I don't care what it takes. Bring her back!"
But they didn't know. The power inside me—deep, ancient—was beyond what any of them could touch. It had awakened.
"They won't break me," I whispered. "Not again."
Still… this place. It was crushing. Empty. Frustration churned in my gut. I had no map. No direction. No clue where to even begin. Why am I here?
Tired and breathless, I stumbled west. Through a dense fog. My legs felt heavy. Like the air itself resisted me. Then… I saw it.
A signboard. Faded. Hanging from rusted chains.
"Welcome to the Land of the Dead. No one survives here."
My heart sank. "Oh, great."
Suddenly—
CRACK!
The ground behind me split open. Ten Wereboars—monstrous and furious—erupted from the shadows like demons. Their eyes glowed red. Their tusks gleamed in the twilight.
"MOVE!" I shouted at myself, but I was already too slow.
One lunged. BAM! His massive fist crashed into my chest, throwing me back. My body hit the ground hard, air knocked from my lungs.
I groaned. "Dammit…"
The biggest of them stepped forward, muscles rippling, voice deep like thunder.
"Adolfa Ray."
My blood froze.
"We have been notified," he continued, "by the Witches and the Spirit Council. You are marked. You bring chaos—to both the living and the dead."
His growl shook the trees. The sky darkened. The air grew cold.
"You will be destroyed," he said. "No matter where you run. We are always watching."
I pushed myself up, shaking.
"No one will stop me," I said, voice strong. "I will survive—no matter what."
The Wereboar leader chuckled. "We'll see, Adolfa. The world is against you. The power you carry… it's too strong. You don't even understand it yet. You barely scratched it back in Greko Pack."
"You think that scares me?" I snapped.
"You should be terrified," he said. "We've been sent by the Spirit World. And our mission is clear—annihilate you."
Before I could move—
FSSSSHHHH!
A strange spray exploded from their hands—thick, dark smoke. It hit my face instantly, burning my eyes, clogging my lungs.
"No—!" I coughed. "What… is this?!"
I stumbled back, trying to fight, throwing weak punches through the fog. Nothing landed. My arms dropped. My knees buckled.
"I can't…" I gasped. "I can't move…"
I was too weak. My energy drained fast. My strength, my fire—it was all slipping away.
"Why is everyone after me?" I cried out, broken. "Just let me be! Please… leave me alone…!"
But no one answered.
And then—
Darkness.
I snapped.