Dream of Us ✔️

chapter three

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Third Person's POV.

The man lets out a childish whimper and quakes in his boots. "Um, Wiyot was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but two months ago, he stopped giving updates. We sent out scouts to check on him, but he was never found, we still don't know what happened. His position was replaced but your daughter had moved flats and now..."

The man trails off and the king becomes so irate that his face turns a dark shade of puce. "Are you trying to tell me that you don't know where she is? You have managed to let our worst prisoner escape and you don't know where my daughter is, the one person said-prisoner cares most about?"

His voice raises so loud that the stained-glass windows rattle with the soundwaves.

"IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO TELL ME?" He bellows.

The deputy general curls in on himself and takes a few steps back, holding his hands in front of his face. "Yes, Your Highness. I am so sorry..."

"You will be. Guards, escort Deputy General Hannuk to the guillotine."

"NO! Please! You can't do this; I have a family!"

The king turns his back on the inconsolable man, ignoring his desperate pleas for mercy. There is no room for incompetency in his army.

The throne room falls silent as the door closes behind the guards when they've escorted the deputy general out and down to the execution floor. The king takes his seat on the throne again and begins formulating a new plan.

"Guards."

Immediately, three men come and line up in front of the throne with their heads bowed.

"Find my daughter. Find Denali too. Don't catch him, keep tabs on him, if anyone can track down my daughter, he can. I want to know his every movement," he barks orders quickly. "Increase the guards around prisoner two and three and inform Lieutenant General Michonne that he is now deputy general."

The guards scurry off, not wanting to end up like the last man that left this room.

"Find my daughter!" The king shouts after them.

The throne room falls silent again.

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Denali's POV.

Without the power from the alignment flooding through me, my body is weak with exhaustion. Taking those lives like that has worn me out and I need somewhere to rest. I stagger across the road and back into the trees. I find a suitable trunk to shelter under and give myself an hour or so to sleep and recover.

When I wake, I feel rejuvenated. I strip out of the shorts they left me in and crouch naked on the forest floor. I close my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable, excruciating pain I'm going to have to go through if I want to shift into my wolf again.

Most shifters swap between their forms weekly if not daily. At least once a month, we shift into our animal bodies and run through the forest. This, more often than not, is on the night of the full moon. Our existence is very much linked to the moon, hence why celestial beings always have the power to shift.

It's been so long since I called on my wolf that it takes a few minutes for my body to respond to my mind. A violent shudder sends me forwards. I drop to my elbows and squeeze my eyes more tightly shut. Stars of pain burst on the back of my eyelids as the first wave of discomfort wracks through my body.