Skin of Flames

Chapter 1: Archia's sword

A/n : This is my first time writing a werewolf book, you might expect errors, I'm not perfect. Hoping to be a good writer. Thanks for reading my book and giving it a chance. You won't be disappointed, love you 😚
----------------------------------------------------------

Dressed in a vibrant purple sundress that contrasts with her long white hair, braided down to her waist and swaying as she skips gleefully towards the small hut in the woods. Her chubby legs carry her small body, while a glass jar filled with fireflies buzzes and flies around inside it.

"Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa..." She chants with her sweet, melodious voice, pushing the door open with her small hands, her cheeks puffing up as her yellow doe eyes light up when she enters. There she finds a man with his black hair tied in an up-do, his legs folded, and eyes closed while levitating in the air.

The little girl can't help but giggle as she feels a force pass through her, the wind softly kissing her face and making her feel ticklish. The man peeps through one eye to confirm his suspicion. There's only one person capable of withstanding his power, and that's his...

"Grandpa." She calls again, and he grumbles under his breath upon seeing his granddaughter. He really wants to ignore her presence and continue with his meditation, but she keeps on disturbing him. Opening his eyes, he sees the four-year-old girl standing there, looking so innocent and batting her eyelashes. He throws his head backward and sighs heavily, then comes down landing on his feet.

She runs to hug her grandfather, who hugs her back while still grumbling and muttering curses toward his daughter for leaving her child with him. "Happy one hundred and seventeenth birthday," her wish takes him by surprise.

He feels her hands tightening around his legs and slowly pats her on her back. "It's my birthday, and I forgot. Can't believe your old man is forgetting so easily," he chuckles dryly.

The little girl feigns a gasp, raising her head to stare at her grandfather. "The great master of spells. The greatest of all wizards in the land of Searia; no one can compare," she praises him, making his head swell with pride. "Forget things, Grandpa? Hope you haven't forgotten your name," she raises her eyebrows playfully.

"How dare I? I can never do that, and even the world can never forget the name Kyliran Haebztus. No one can forget the joy I brought to their land," he boasts.

"Joy? Really, Grandpa? You brought chaos, Cha...os," Kyliran Haebstus was known for practicing dark sorcery, and during his younger days, he enslaved the people of Searia into misery, causing pain and destruction in the land. He ruled the nation with an iron fist, merciless toward the people. The people suffered greatly during his reign, forcefully taking over from their true king. The story of his reign was forever told, never leaving the hearts of the people, for it was an unforgettable experience.

"Grandpa, I remember you telling me the wonderful, wonderful things you did, papa," she laughs, recalling those mischievous things her grandfather did.

"Neavea Haebstus!" He pinches her cheek. "Your mouth is getting too sharp for this old man, and I like it."

"And I like me too."

"Indeed you do. So what are you gifting this old man?"

"This." Her hands loosen around his legs, and she waves the jar in front of him. He gasps, his hands covering his mouth. Slowly, he collects the jar from her. "You gifted me the most amazing thing in my life," he can't contain his excitement.

"I don't understand why the fireflies are so important; they are just... fireflies," she remarks, following her grandfather as he scampers to where he keeps his potions. Hearing what she said, he whips his head towards her, feeling greatly offended. "Point of correction," he says, raising his index finger with his hips cocking. "They are not just fireflies; they are the finishing touches to my spell."