Eight creatures fight for the power to control Newearth.


2. Chapter Two






The war had stopped. It was still uncertain who had won. Many creatures lay dead back on the mountain battlefield. The Winter Zombies were almost wiped out, though they're not one to be wiped out forever.

Most Half-breeds had stayed at the Inn, but Conwyn Fyrehart knew where he needed to be. 

The village of Berkeville was dark and quiet. Con made his way up the cobble path to where he liked to call his castle. It wasn't really a castle, it was just a house larger than the others. But then again, he wasn't really a king. 

Con was a bastard born of nothing. He only came to so much power and wealth when he met an orphaned princess from a different land. Soon the bastard became a king. None of his people spoke out about his background, but Con knew they thought it. Even he doubted himself occasionally.

Once Con had reached his home, he unlocked the door and walk inside. The familiar smell of wood and straw and cut grass hit him and he realised that he was truly home. 

Con made his way up the wooden stairs. From downstairs, it looked like their house was dark and Con did believe everyone to be asleep, until he came to the top of the stairs and noticed that there was a glowing light coming from his room and that's when Con realised not everyone was asleep.

He pushed the door to his room open, and there with her back to him was his wife. Her light strawberry blonde hair that reached the bottom of her dress was free from its braids and was flowing all over the bed. Her wolf ears were pointed down and her tail was still and lying on the bed. At first, Con couldn't tell what she was doing, until he saw her move her bow.


Tornei's hand stilled. Her ears twitched up. She slowly turned around.

'Con...' she breathed.

Nobody moved or said anything until-

'I was gonna stay in the Inn down the road, but once I stepped into the village, I knew I couldn't be away from you.'

Not even processing what Con had said, Tornei threw herself at him, making him hit his back on the door. Con winced in pain, Tornei noticed.

'Are you okay?' she asked, concerned.

'I'm fine. A dwarve stabbed me in the back...literally.'

Tornei put her feet onto the floor, though stayed in Con's embrace. 'Six years...had it been a year longer, something might have just happened to Berkeville.'

Con held her tighter as though to protect her even from the thought. 'I'm sorry I was gone so long.' he said, and he generally was.

'It's wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice.' Tornei said into his chest.

'How are my pups?' Con asked.

Tornei looked up at him then, 'Not so much pups anymore. Dalya's becoming a she-wolf. In three years, Cadmys will be a man and Jenna's still growling at people, fighting and trying to steal food.'

Con smiled at the thought of his fifteen, thirteen and eleven year old wolf-children. 

'I suppose your tired.' said Tornei.

'I didn't really see the point in going to-'

'Six years!' Tornei interrupted him. 'Please, Connie. We don't have to sleep.'

Tornei grabbed his hand and led him to the bed.

Six years and now Conwyn Fyrehart was home. But for how long...?

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