Chapter 1 The Intriguing Stranger

Alana POV

We were in the middle of the dirt road when my aunt's small carriage abruptly stopped in a forest known to be the most dangerous in these lands; it was where the bloodthirsty wolf packs resided.

The rain was falling lightly, and the day was drawing to a close outside the carriage. At first, I thought we had stopped due to some issue with the horses or the wheels. Aunt Mag even cursed the poor horses when they neighed and halted, as if they had encountered a great obstacle in the path, but well, what stopped us was something, or rather someone else.

The rain was getting heavier, obscuring our vision and preventing us from clearly seeing the figure ahead. A few meters in front of the carriage stood an imposing man dressed in black. He was just there, blocking our way, with no apparent intention of moving.

"Who is he, Aunt Mag?" I asked fearfully from beside my aunt, who sat with her inseparable fan in hand. Her middle-aged face had contorted into a scowl. I knew very well that expression meant she was very irritated.

"Must be a human highwayman. Some of them are bold enough to attack witch carriages even knowing they'll die. Despicable race!" she said with disdain, but just seeing the silhouette of the man ahead, we could tell he was not human and didn't seem passionate about robbing witches.

"But what if he isn't?" I asked, swallowing hard. "What if he's someone dangerous?"

"Don't be so foolish, girl. I have the protection of House Lightsun with me; no witch or wizard would dare harm me. Now, let me deal with this bastard so we can get out of this cursed forest before the damned wolves show up," said the woman, stepping out of the carriage and approaching the man with a foolish look.

We were on our way to Fastfall, the capital of the witch population; it was where the richest and most powerful of my people lived. Aunt Mag hadn't told me anything about it, but I knew she was planning to marry me off to the Lightsuns. Something I never wanted, but it wasn't like my aunt listened to me or let me make my own life decisions.

I was an orphan, so I had always lived under my aunt's care, who was my mother's sister. But Aunt Mag was never a motherly figure to me; she always treated me badly and made a point of throwing in my face that I was useless, especially when I turned fifteen and my magic never manifested as it usually does for all wizards at that age. Aunt Mag called me a "wound," magicless, and human, as a pejorative term. To her, I had no use, and she regretted taking care of me because she thought she would gain something in return once I grew up, but without magic, it was as if I were a disabled person always needing that.

"Thank the Great Wizard that at least you have this angelic appearance," she told me, "so I can try to arrange a profitable marriage for you, or else you'll die in the gutter!"

But I didn't want her to arrange a marriage for me; I didn't want any of this. I wanted to be free from this woman.

"I am Magdalena Bernadette Backingale of House Backingale, from the south," my aunt was saying, her umbrella covering her head to keep from getting wet. "This is my carriage, and I'm heading to the City of Gold. I advise you to get out of our way and let us pass, you wandering stranger!"

At first, I thought it was a snore or a deep growl, then I realized the growling was coming from the figure ahead; it was as if he was laughing. "You witches and your exaggerated airs. What nonsense," said the man with a deep, low voice. That's when I realized he wasn't human. He was something much more dangerous than humans.

When the imposing man spoke, the horses stirred as if they wanted to break free from the reins and flee. The coachman nearly fell when he tried to pull the reins to calm them. Aunt Mag also noticed this agitation, so now she asked more cautiously.

"Who are you? You don't look human, and you don't have the courtesy of a wizard. What kind of species are you?" she asked.

The man didn't answer; in the rain, he approached us slowly. At that moment, my heart started beating with fear, and I clasped my hands, afraid of what might happen.

"You won't even offer me a ride? You'd have the audacity to leave me here in this rain, madam?" he asked with high sarcasm.

"I don't give rides to strangers," my aunt replied incisively.

"Hm, that wasn't the answer I wanted to hear," he said and then stopped right in front of my window. "I see there's something precious in your carriage, witch," he said while his dark eyes were on me, looking at me as if I were an object that had captured his attention. I barely managed to look at him; I was so scared.

"So you're a thief," Aunt Mag accused.

"I'm not a thief, but I felt like stealing something," he said, his eyes still fixed on me. I looked at him; his hair hidden under a hood was black and long, his skin was brown, and his eyes were as dark as the night. He would have been handsome if he weren't so threatening. "Hiding, dear?" he asked and smiled.

"Stay away from her, or else...!" my aunt shouted, already wanting to give her orders, but she had to convince herself that all was lost.

"How much strength do you two have, witches? Is it enough to overcome my control over your horses?" The stranger asked, stating he was now controlling the horses. I gasped in shock; only wolves had that dominion over animals, so the horses had stopped because of him; it was this strange man who made them stop.

"You're a wolf?" Aunt Magdalena asked, also shocked but now defiant. "Then why dare to interact with witch folk like us? Hasn't the Council declared that our species can only communicate with each other in court?"

"Do you see your beloved Council here, witch woman? Certainly, none of them would want to play in the rain like we are," he said.

"That's an affront! You will be punished, wolf!" Aunt Mag said disdainfully.

"If you want to reach your beautiful city of shit, I'll release the horses, but you leave the girl with me," the werewolf proposed as calmly as if he were talking about the weather.

"What? You must be mad!" my aunt said, starting to shout.

But the werewolf was looking at me with his cynical smile and a playful look, as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself and said, "as if you had any choice."

Then he practically tore the carriage door off and pulled me by the waist. He was so fast that one moment I was being pulled from the carriage, and the next, I was hanging onto the broad back of a giant wolf, stampeding deeper into the dangerous forest.