In a quiet rural town, 13-year-old Ethan Alexander lives a humble life as an orphan raised by kind-hearted farmers. Unknown to him, his lineage is not as ordinary as his surroundings; he is the rare hybrid of a werewolf and a vampire-a secret that h...
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I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing a common room that seemed to sparkle with a touch of magic. The air was thick with a scent of polished oak and old leather, and the sunlight streamed through the windows, casting playful shadows on the intricate rugs that adorned the floor.
The room was cozy and inviting, elegantly furnished with plush pillows, deep blue sofas and arm chairs around a stone fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling throughout the entire space.
"My Young King," Creeta softly cooed, quickly catching my attention. "I can only speak to you when you are alone, but if we are ever separated and you need me, hold the fang of your necklace along with the feather, in your hand. It holds a special significance as it was crafted with precision. When the necklace was being made, a feather was plucked from my wing when I was a little Hytre and strategically threaded into it with a particular ancient magic, serving as a connection between us," she said, her voice soft yet stern. "The necklace your mother gifted you was to protect you."
I nodded my head, understanding that her primary role is to protect me from danger. I felt a sense of reassurance knowing that even when we are apart, Creeta will always be there for me in times of trouble. In that moment, the feather of the necklace became a symbol of our unbreakable bond and a reminder that no matter what challenges may come our way, we will always find our way back to each other.
My eyes scanned the common room, I could feel their eyes all on me, a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny. Whispers floated through the air like ghostly echoes; I could almost hear the questions hanging between them—Who's the new kid? Where's he from? I swallowed hard, each stare weighing down on me like a heavy stone. My palms were sweaty, and a sudden wave of self-doubt washed over me. Was I destined to be the odd one out?
But just as I began to feel small under their scrutiny, a cheerful voice broke through the tension. "Welcome!" A little boy, bounded up to me with an infectious smile plastered across his face. His dark hair was a messy tuft that seemed to defy gravity, bouncing as he moved. "I'm Caleb Uley! Welcome to the Artic Wolf Wing, What's your name?"
(Caleb Uley)
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