Fatebound: Volume 1

Prologue

A full moon hung high in the sky, casting its silver light over the palace with an ethereal glow. The marble columns and intricately carved stone shimmered under the moon’s pale radiance, and the sound of water trickling from a gilded fountain was the only thing breaking the heavy silence of the night.

In the shadows of the vast hall, a figure stirred. From a distant doorway, she emerged—a tall, lithe woman, her long dress trailing behind her with every elegant step. Even in the darkness, it was clear she carried herself with a regal air, a confidence that radiated from her like an unspoken command. She crossed the room, her white fur catching the faint light as she moved toward the balcony, where the moon bathed her in its soft glow.

She was a caracal, her fur as pure and white as freshly fallen snow, with eyes of molten gold. Her inky black hair was tied in an elegant braid that cascaded down her back, reaching the waist of her intricately embroidered dress. The gold patterns on her gown shimmered as she moved, a perfect match for the golden adornments woven into her hair. But despite her regal appearance, the weight of exhaustion bore down on her as she leaned against the balcony’s railing, burying her face in her hands.

The Empress of the Cait Empire, Sha’Ira, was tired—bone tired from a day filled with the tiresome politics of the noble houses, their ceaseless bickering over matters that felt so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

“Another day wasted on petty grievances?” came a voice from the shadows, soft and amused.

Sha’Ira lifted her head and turned toward the source. Sitting comfortably in the corner of the balcony, legs crossed, was a snow leopard with a glass of scarlet wine in her hand. Her tail flicked lazily in the moonlight, and her dark attire—a black dress beneath a leather cuirass—was a stark contrast to the Empress’s flowing gown.

“They never seem to tire of their complaints,” Sha’Ira said with a soft chuckle, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she moved to join her companion. “It never ceases to amaze me how much they find to squabble over, considering how little they do.”

Nailah, the leopard and Spymaster to the Empress, smiled behind her glass. “Those who grow up in luxury often mistake inconvenience for oppression.”

“Pessimistic as always,” Sha’Ira teased, pouring herself a glass of wine and sinking into the chair beside Nailah. “I remember a time when you weren’t so jaded.”

Nailah’s eyes glittered with amusement, but there was a hint of bitterness in her voice. “It’s not pessimism if it’s the truth. I had more faith in people once, but I’ve learned better. Ignorance is a disease, and it spreads faster than wisdom.”

Sha’Ira frowned, tracing her fingers along the rim of her glass thoughtfully. “Hearts can change, and eyes can be opened. Ignorance may run deep, but it is not uncurable.” She reached out, giving Nailah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We must be willing to correct our past mistakes.”

For a moment, Nailah’s icy demeanor softened, and she let out a small, genuine smile. “Ever the optimist, Sha’Ira. It’s no wonder your nephew inherited it from you.”

“Raja has his own path,” Sha’Ira said with a fond smile, standing up to lean against the balcony railing. “He knows better than anyone that his worth must be earned, not assumed because of his bloodline.” She sighed, the weight of her title pressing down on her again. “It shouldn’t matter who his parents were, but in this world, it does.”

“An astute observation,” came a new voice from the shadows, low and cold. “Though perhaps a bit naïve.”

Both Sha’Ira and Nailah turned sharply toward the doorway, where a figure stood cloaked in a deep scarlet robe, her face obscured beneath a hood. Only the rust-colored tip of her muzzle could be seen, barely visible in the moonlight.

Nailah was on her feet in an instant, a blade slipping free from within her sleeve with a sharp metallic sound, her muscles tensed for action. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as she glared at the intruder. “Who are you?” she snarled.

Sha’Ira placed a calming hand on Nailah’s shoulder. “Stand down,” she commanded softly but firmly. “She’s a guest. Uninvited, yes, but a guest nonetheless.”

Nailah hesitated, her gaze flicking to Sha’Ira, but after a moment she slowly retracted her blade, her shoulders relaxing only slightly.

“Wise choice,” the cloaked figure said, stepping forward. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “I have not come to fight, but to speak.”

Sha’Ira’s eyes narrowed as she turned fully toward the stranger. “Speak, then, if that is your purpose here.”

The figure slowly lowered her hood, revealing the face of a caracal much like Sha’Ira herself. Her fur was the same rust color as her muzzle, but most striking was the long strip of white silk that was wrapped over her eyes. She was blind.

“There is a storm coming,” the blind caracal said, her voice steady. “One that threatens to sweep away everything you hold dear. If your kingdom is not prepared, it will fall.”

Sha’Ira stiffened, her fingers tightening around the balcony railing. “A storm? You come here to offer me vague warnings?”

“This is no vague warning, Empress,” the blind caracal said, her tone serious. “War is on the horizon, a war from within and without. You must be ready.”

Sha’Ira blinked, her mind racing. “War? Who? The Lycans? The Vulpes?”

“The threat will come from many places, from many enemies,” the blind caracal said cryptically. “There is only so much I can reveal to you now. But there is one thing you must understand. You will need allies. You will need pieces in place to win.”

Sha’Ira’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Enough with the riddles. If you know something, say it plainly.”

The blind caracal’s sightless gaze settled on Sha’Ira, her expression unreadable. “Your nephew, Raja, will play a key role in the events to come. His destiny is bound to the fate of this Empire.”

Sha’Ira frowned. “Raja? How?”

“There is also another,” the blind caracal continued, ignoring Sha’Ira’s question. “A human. They, too, will determine the future of this kingdom.”

“A human?” Sha’Ira’s brow furrowed in confusion. “There are no humans in the Empire. They remain on their own continent, waging their wars.”

The blind caracal turned away, moving toward the shadows. “All will become clear in time,” she said softly. “Prepare yourself, Empress. When the storm breaks, you will need them both.”

Before Sha’Ira could ask more, the figure vanished into the darkness, leaving the Empress alone on the balcony with the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

A storm was coming. A war that threatened the very survival of the Empire. And the only hope she had lay with her nephew and a human who had yet to even set foot in her kingdom.

Sha’Ira looked up at the moon, her golden eyes reflecting its cold, silver light. Whatever was coming, she would be ready.

She had to be.