The Royal Blood of the Lycan Princess

Chapter 2: An Ominous Visit

Mom, are you sure we need to go all the way to the Human City?" I asked, glancing over at her. The trees around us thinned as the road stretched into unfamiliar territory, the familiar scents of the forest replaced with the dusty, metallic tang of the city nearby. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the change.

"Yes, Amelia," my mother replied, her voice steady, though I could see the tension in her shoulders as she drove. "There are certain herbs and supplies I can only get in the city. And besides, it's about time you saw a bit of the world outside the pack."

I twisted my fingers together, staring out the window. I'd heard a lot about the Human City from others, usually stories of bustling markets, strange food, and noisy streets. It was a place full of mystery and energy, completely different from our quiet, tucked-away life in the pack. I should have been excited — and part of me was — but there was something about today that felt... off.

"Do you think there will be a lot of humans there?" I asked, trying to mask the unease in my voice with curiosity.

My mother glanced at me and smiled. "That's likely, yes. Just remember to stay close, alright?"

I nodded, but her words only made me more nervous. Mom had always been cautious, but today her caution felt heightened, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror more than usual, her fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. She was usually composed, calm. But today, a thin line of worry pressed between her brows, making her look almost... afraid.

"Are you okay, Mom?" I asked softly.

Her gaze flicked to me, and she forced a smile. "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just... don't want us to be here longer than necessary. We'll get what we need and head right back. No wandering off today, alright?"

"Of course," I promised, though I could feel the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I wanted to push her, to ask what she was worried about, but something told me that if she wasn't sharing, it was probably for a reason.

The Human City unfolded before us, a blur of gray buildings and tall structures that stretched higher than I'd ever seen in our small pack village. It felt cold and crowded, and even though we hadn't stepped out of the car yet, I could feel the city's pulse — fast, unrelenting, and foreign.

We parked near a busy street, and as soon as we stepped out, a wave of noises hit me — cars honking, people chattering, and the occasional bark of street vendors shouting over each other. I stood there, wide-eyed, feeling like a fish out of water.

Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. "Stay close, Amelia," she murmured.

Together, we moved through the crowd, weaving between people who barely noticed us. Mom kept her arm protectively around me, guiding me through the maze of humans. I watched them as they passed by, each with their own story, their own hurried footsteps, and their own focus on something I couldn't see.

"This is incredible," I whispered, half to myself.

"It's different, isn't it?" Mom said, her voice gentle but distant, like she was barely paying attention.

We arrived at a small shop nestled between larger, more modern buildings. It had an old, weathered sign hanging above the door, and the windows were filled with rows of glass jars, dried plants, and the faint shimmer of what looked like crystals. Mom pulled me inside, and the noise of the street vanished as the door closed behind us.

"Good morning, Mira," the shopkeeper said, greeting my mom with a slight bow. He was an older man with a long beard and kind eyes that crinkled when he smiled.