Page 5

Giselle’s wise old eyes twinkled with delight as she placed the tray with a delicate China teapot and matching blue and white flower-stamped cups on a short table.

Elizabeth gathered the books, replacing two tomes onto the shelf with regret, before she descended the staircase.

She walked over and sank down on the wooden stool across from Giselle while the old shopkeeper poured them each a cup of the fragrant tea.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured as she took the cup.

“Now, tell me how a young human girl has come to visit me in my shop,” Giselle said.

As the last of his unwelcome guests left, Or’Ang felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the tension in his muscles finally easing.

The air was thick with their dissatisfaction as they departed, each chilly nod and huff a testament to their discontent.

Others had left, their words laced with unspoken warnings.

He was just thankful his kingdom was still in one piece, though he could still hear the whispers of the recent threat of conflict on the wind.

"You've ruffled more than a few feathers in the last two days," Polar growled, his words laced with a hint of warning.

“What is new? They were a disgusting lot,” he said.

“I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who heard the lovely shifters whining about the inability of their wiles to melt your icy heart,” Oliver replied, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.

He met Oliver's gaze for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment of their shared sorrow, his headshake heavy with unspoken regret. Their guests’ vitriol towards humans ignited a fire in his belly, a simmering rage at their blatant disregard for their shared humanity.

Oliver had grown up with the comforting familiarity of shifters, a world where he felt both secure and completely understood.

He had only experienced a shifter’s cultivated behavior, never their raw emotions or untamed instincts. Or’Ang, however, knew differently.

“They are dangerous, Oliver. The women just as much as the men,” he warned.

Oliver straightened from his slouched position, his leg sliding to the floor from where it had been dangling over the arm of the chair, the worn leather creaking in protest as he sat straight.

Or’Ang watched as Oliver’s eyes darkened, taking on a serious expression.

Perhaps he was underestimating his friend’s awareness of the situation.

“What do you wish us to do, Or’Ang? The time grows near,” Polar reminded him.

Or’Ang nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I’m aware of the necessity to find a queen, Polar. Is it too much to expect to find one who can love me for being who I am, not what I can give them?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten rid of them if they knew what you could really offer them,” Oliver murmured.

Or’Ang nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, but his agreement was clear. The sights, sounds, and smells of his kingdom all whispered of a unique and potent magic that pulsed beneath the surface. Once again, he pondered whether it was a gift or a burden.

The magic, a relic of a bygone era, had been given to him by Red Panda over a century ago.

Memories of his lost parents flooded his mind, and the familiar ache of grief twisted his insides.

The memory was so vivid, he could almost smell the salty tang of the sea clinging to the old shifter's clothes as Red Panda recounted his father's sacrifice.

Regret had etched deep lines on Red Panda's withered face as he remembered that fateful night.

It would not be until later that they would learn that Red Panda was more than he appeared.

The shifter had claimed to be over five-hundred years old, and his wise, old eyes had held the secrets of the ages.

A rueful smile played on Or’Ang’s lips as he remembered how Red’s gentle smile had sent a wave of comfort through him during those early, dark days.

He had accepted the exquisite book the panda shifter had gifted him.

He still remembered the rustle of its gilded pages, sounding like the whispers of ancient spirits, as if it were yesterday.

The poetic tales within the book were a source of comfort during those challenging days, their beauty and lyricism soothing to his soul.

Each evening, Polar, Oliver, and he would take turns reading magical stories from the book to the old man.

Polar and Oliver became his constant companions, quiet sentinels against the forces determined to test his young reign.

Their unwavering support felt like a comforting embrace, their presence a safe haven against the storms of life.

As they finished deciphering the last of the books' secrets, the old shifter's body seemed to dissolve into the stone walls, leaving behind amazement and a sense of disbelief at the strange magic they had witnessed.

Years would pass before they understood the power of the magic woven into their souls, a magic that would change them in ways they could not have imagined.

The first to arrive were the thoughts of the people around them, whispering through their minds as clear as if they had been spoken aloud.

Next came the relentless passage of time that left them unchanged.

Finally, the wounds that could heal themselves and the illnesses that never touched them.

They were trapped in the book's mystical machinations, ensnared in a web of beguiling magic that seemed both enchanting and unreal.

Over time, the kingdom would prosper from the magic Red Panda had shared.

The kingdom's wealth grew, and with it, the stories, whispered by travelers and sung by bards. Each tale became grander and more fantastical. Or’Ang, Polar, and Oliver remained frozen in time, their bodies unchanging as the world around them continued on.

The people, robust and thriving under their powerful leader, were easily convinced by the tale told by Polar and Oliver, that he had been blessed by the Goddess to watch over them.

Despite having everything he could ever want, he felt an aching void in his heart, a longing for love that no material possession could satisfy.

Women and men, their faces a mixture of desperation and greed for the whispered magic and wealth he was said to possess, had sought his attention.

The gift of the curse allowed the three of them to see the avarice festering in the hearts of others, a vile green mist that swirled around them, and hear the whispers of their wicked desires, like the rustle of dry leaves in the wind.

The advantage was undeniably his, but it also left him longing for the peaceful silence of a secluded retreat.

Do I want to bind myself to a woman whose every thought I can hear and know what truly lives in her heart?

He knew the answer, just as Oliver and Polar did, their knowledge as solid as the ground beneath their feet.

The thought of an eternity without companionship gnawed at their souls, leaving them with a hollow ache.

At the thought, he felt a sudden chill run through his body, a cold wind blowing across his skin.

“We need to make plans,” he finally responded, glancing at the two men. “If there is a war, we need to protect the humans under our care. Oliver, I wish you to find us a place, far from here, where a new kingdom can be established. A place where both shifters and humans can thrive together.”

Oliver bowed his head. “I will take three of our fastest ships. I’ve heard rumors of a distant land, wild, remote, and untamed where the ocean is said to fall off the edge of the world. If there is such a place that can be sailed to, I will find a haven for us where we can live in peace.”

With a sigh, he turned his attention to Polar, who was watching him expectantly, ready to receive his instructions.

His eyes held a fierce, unyielding determination, as if he had already conquered whatever obstacle lay before him.

As always, Polar was his beacon of calm during turbulent times.

He might have wished for a different path in life, but knowing these men were his loyal companions brought a bittersweet solace to his burdened heart.

“I want the castle re-enforced and preparations made should we need to fortify.”

Polar gave him a curt nod. “We should make preparations so that if we are held under siege, that we have a way to evacuate everyone. I’d like to send Alba with Oliver, if you don’t mind. He can guide us to Oliver once a place is found.”

Or’Ang nodded in agreement. “Oliver, pick your men carefully. You’ll need builders, soldiers, hunters.”

“I won’t let you or our people down,” Oliver vowed.

“Make it happen,” he ordered, turning back to the window.

He longed to be swept away by the carefree energy of the day, but a suffocating desperation kept him tethered to the desolate landscape of his thoughts.

The whispers of malice in the other shifters' minds echoed through his thoughts, a chilling reminder of the danger lurking beneath their calm facades.

Their laughter had been laced with a cruel, hollow ring, anticipating the pain they would so willingly inflict upon others.

Driven by a primal hunger, they would gleefully sacrifice everything to quench their blood thirst, even if it meant tearing their world apart.

Though the castle's imposing walls and fortified gates promised safety, a gnawing fear lingered, along with the knowledge that even the strongest defenses could crumble.