Page 1 of Destined to the Lycan (The Shadow Realms #3)

Amara

T he soothing sound of the bells dangling overhead resonated through Ronika’s shop as I pushed the door open.

It served as both an apothecary and medical clinic.

Before moving to Willow Grove, I heard wonders about the rather average hedge witch who suddenly acquired tremendous powers and became the most renowned healer in the region.

That she was also the only known person to have won a battle against the infamous necromancer Cornelius further increased the mystique surrounding her.

After the foul male’s demise a few months ago, many wondered if she had a hand in it.

But the type of dark magic used to trap him in an endless torment couldn’t have come from her.

Only a demigod—or maybe even one of the Ancients themselves—gave him that well-deserved comeuppance for all the pain and harm he inflicted upon others for generations.

Ronika waved me in from behind the counter where she was filling some small jars with a variety of healing herbs.

The smile that lit up her beautiful face warmed me from the inside out.

From the first time I met her, I remembered thinking that she could be an angel walking among mortals.

Although I knew better, there was no question that something happened when she gained that sudden wave of greater power, and that she was now more than a standard human.

There was nothing odd about it, to the extent that humans increasingly embraced arcane practices. The question always revolved around whether they dabbled in the light or dark side. Ronika radiated light and compassion.

I returned her smile, inhaling deeply the pleasant fragrance that always swirled around the front half of the shop.

It was light and floral, with a hint of spice and sweetness.

Above all, it stirred an instant sense of peace and well-being.

Considering the back of the store had a consultation and healing room, it only made sense that she would use the perfect blend of healing runes and incense to set the appropriate atmosphere for her patients and clients.

“Hello, Amara! Do come in,” Ronika said warmly while flicking a strand of her long hair over her shoulder.

It boasted an unusual color, a stunning midnight blue which gradually turned into a lighter purple towards the tips.

It looked beautiful against her lightly tanned skin, a pale shade of brown.

Where I loved to dress in the bright colors of my Beninese heritage—in stark contrast to the majority of the residents of Willow Grove—Ronika usually wore muted shades, in this instance a forest green dress.

She extended her hands towards me. “I see you’re quite burdened. What goodies do you have for me today?”

I closed the distance between us, my medium heels clicking on the dark hardwood floors of the shop.

“It’s a brand-new set of twenty candles created with you specifically in mind,” I replied enthusiastically as I handed the basket to her.

“Me?” Ronika echoed, her eyebrows raised with curiosity as she peered into the basket.

I nodded. “Mmhmm. They’re made with soy wax and Caladrius feathers.”

Ronika’s jaw dropped, and excitement lit up her beautiful face.

She waved a hand above one of the candles, and a powerful magic swirled around her.

I couldn’t help the surge of envy that coursed through me.

Although born from a long line of talented Mambos—Vodou priestesses—my mother made sure not to allow me to develop my powers.

Tragic events made her turn her back on what had previously been a heritage my family took great pride in.

“That’s fantastic! You truly are the best in your field!

” Ronika exclaimed. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for someone to be able to harness the healing powers of the Caladrius into arcane paraphernalia?

Even without lighting it, I can feel its potency.

It will do wonders when treating my patients.

But I can see that it would also do a lot of good to the common folk by simply using it at home.

You should sell them in your own store.”

I smiled and nodded. “I intend to. But as you are my favorite and most valued customer, I wanted to bring them to you first.”

Her face melted in an affectionate expression that once again moved me deeply. She was barely ten years older than I was, and yet the way she looked at me reminded me of my mother. Not for the first time, I wished she would have followed me here when I moved to Willow Grove a couple of months ago.

“Just like you are one of my favorite business partners and customers,” she replied gently, before taking on a concerned expression. “How are you feeling lately?”

My shoulders slouched, and a familiar sense of despair and defeat swelled within me.

“Not too great, I’m afraid,” I replied dejectedly.

“It came back?!” Ronika asked with a crestfallen expression.

I nodded. “I’ve started feeling unwell again. Eating is a struggle, and I constantly feel weak and dizzy. At completely random moments, I’ll break into a sweat, and my vision will blur.”

Ronika frowned with an air of genuine confusion. “It doesn’t make sense. Have you coughed blood again?”

I shook my head. “No. However, the same symptoms I felt the first time around are coming back, but even faster than before. At least, so it seems...”

This entire situation made even less sense because I always enjoyed perfect health.

When I moved to Willow Grove two months ago, all had been well.

The first symptoms appeared at the end of the fourth week.

Initially, I thought the stress and exhaustion of relocating to a different State and starting a new business were finally catching up to me.

But once I started coughing blood, I could no longer deny that something far more serious was happening.

“My mother thinks I’m cursed,” I said with derision.

Ronika firmly shook her head, clearly rejecting that possibility. “I do not see any curse on you. Whatever is ailing you is not of a magical nature, of this I could almost swear. Come, let’s go to my examination room.”

Although she gestured for me to head towards the room, she marched to the front door to put up the sign that she was giving a consultation so that any new customer would know to be patient.

As I made my way into the room, I couldn’t help a glance towards the door to the left.

Ronika always kept it closed. I suspected she had an altar or shrine there.

The rumor said she performed a few exorcisms, which would require a much different setup than the traditional medical room we were now entering.

The entire shop was actually an extension of her home, which also housed a powerful Warden Tree in the garden.

“Why does your mother believe you’re cursed?” Ronika asked with genuine curiosity as she closed the door behind her.

Simultaneously, she gestured for me to sit on the examination table in the middle of the room.

To my pleasant surprise, I noticed she actually brought one of my Caladrius candles with her.

The mythical bird whose feathers I had used to make them was a powerful healer.

If blessed enough to meet one, a sick patient would only have to remain still while the snow-white bird stared at him.

It would absorb the sickness out of the patient and then fly towards the sun so it would burn it out of him.

But if the bird did not make eye contact, it either meant it could not take your sickness away, or that it chose not to do so because you did not deserve it.

I had been so blessed as to meet a Caladrius, but it would not make eye contact with me.

“She actually doesn’t know that I’m sick,” I confessed sheepishly. “It would devastate her.”

“I’m confused,” Ronika said carefully.

“I’m displaying the same symptoms as with the mysterious illness that killed my father when I was still a toddler,” I explained grimly.

“When the doctors and healers failed to identify the cause or to cure him, Mother turned to the Houngans and Mambos, hoping that the spirits would help. After all, my family faithfully served the loas for generations. But they also didn’t have answers for us.

Mom was devastated and left Benin shortly thereafter to start over here.

And although she taught me about our culture, she’s been adamant about having no magic in our lives at all.

She barely tolerates the fact that I create witch candles. But they put food on the table.”

“I can see why she would feel that way,” Ronika replied with compassion. “Is that why you left your State to move here in Willow Grove?”

I shook my head. “My uncle—Mom’s older brother—passed away recently. In his will, he bequeathed his mansion to me. He only has one daughter who stayed in the old country and has no desire to move here.”

Ronika’s brow creased. “I’m sorry for your loss. Did he fall to the same illness?”

“No,” I said firmly. “It was a stupid horse accident. Something spooked his mount. My uncle got knocked off the saddle and fell at a bad angle, breaking his neck. I was just shocked both to discover I had blood relatives here, and above all that he would put me in his will as I had no recollection of him. I was too young when we left.”

“Did your mother know?” Ronika asked.

I nodded. “We had a big falling out over it. For the longest time, I told my mother that I wanted to go back home for a visit and to reconnect with our family. But she always had some excuse to put it off. Truth be told, she kept us pretty isolated. If not for my candle business, I would hardly ever meet anyone. Needless to say that she lost it when I told her that I wanted to accept my uncle’s gift.

She swore up and down that it was cursed, and that if I went there, I would meet a terrible death. ”