Page 2 of Wings of Shadow
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see my most trusted advisor and enforcer, Janik, stepping into the room. “What is it?” I ask, my voice sharp with impatience.
“Forgive the intrusion, Mein König,” Janik says, bowing his head. “But I have received word from our contacts in Paris.”
“Go on,” I utter with a swift nod.
“It seems the Draken clan has done the impossible,” he says under his breath. “They have awakened a dragon shifter for the first time in centuries.”
My body stiffens as I brace myself on the table’s edge. For a moment, I am speechless, my mind reeling with the implications of this news. The Drakens, our most formidable rivals, have achieved the very thing I have been striving toward for years. The thought of them wielding such power, of them claiming the title of the last dragon shifter in the world, fills me with a cold, seething rage.
“How?” I demand, my voice a low growl. “How did they accomplish this?”
Janik shakes his head, his expression grim. “The details are unclear, Mein Herr. Our sources are still gathering information. But one thing is certain—this changes everything. The balance of power in the shifter world has been upended, and if we do not act quickly, the Drakens will use this to crush us once and for all.”
I clench my fists, my eyes blazing with determined fire. “They will do no such thing,” I snarl, rising to my feet. “I will not allow them to claim this victory, to wield a power that should have been ours by right.” A pause to steady my quickened breaths. “I will find a way to awaken my dragon, to harness the primal power coursing through my veins, and I will show the world what true power looks like.”
Janik nods, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. “What are your orders, Mein Herr?”
I turn to face the window, looking out over the sprawling expanse of my empire, the city that bows before the might of the Drachenstein name. “Gather our best men,” I command, my voice ringing out with unwavering authority. “Reach out to every contact, every informant we have. I want to know everything there is to know about this Draken shifter—their strengths, their weaknesses, their every move.”
“Yes, Mein Herr.”
As Janik hurries off to carry out my orders, I turn back to the window, my gaze hardening with resolve. I lift my hands, studying the play of warm light on my beringed fingers. Each ring represents a hard-won victory, a step closer to the power that is my birthright.
My hands close into fists, the cool metal pressing into my skin. The path ahead may be fraught with danger, filled with challenges and enemies at every turn, but I am ready to face them all. For my father, for my family, for the legacy that burns in my blood, I will stop at nothing to claim what is rightfully mine.
The Drakens may think they have the upper hand, but they have no idea who they’re dealing with. I am Kaisner Drachenstein, the most feared warlock across Europe, and soon, the mightiest dragon shifter to emerge in centuries. And I will reduce to ashes anyone who stands in my way…
The sleek lines of my smartphone light up with an incoming message. With a flick of my finger, I unlock the screen, my eyebrows raising slightly as I recognize the sender.
Cassandra Deveraux.
The Deverauxs. One of the oldest and most influential witch dynasties in Europe, their power rivaled only by the Drakens themselves. What could they possibly want with me now, in the midst of this brewing storm?
I tap on the message, my curiosity piqued. As I scan the contents, a slow smile begins to spread across my face.
Intriguing.
The Deveraux witches are not known for their frivolity, and for them to reach out to me directly... well, it can only mean that the winds of change are blowing more fiercely than I had anticipated.
Returning to my chair, I compose my response with a few quick swipes.
As I hit send, I lean back, my mind already racing with the possibilities that lie ahead. The Drakens may have made the first move, but the game is far from over. And with the Deverauxs as potential allies, the board is set for a power play that will reshape the very fabric of our world.
I am the king in a realm of darkness. And I will not rest until the throne is mine.
2
CLARISSA
PARIS, FRANCE.
The vision comes unbidden—a dark tide rising from the depths of my consciousness, relentless and cold. Behind my eyes, the world slips away, and in its place, an ancient fresco unfurls. Our family tree, delicate and sprawling, stretches across an imagined wall. The painted branches reach skyward, proud and eternal, each name etched in shimmering gold.
But then, the rot begins.
A shadow bleeds from the roots—inky, malevolent, alive. It creeps upward with glacial patience, tainting the pale blue sky above with storm clouds of dread. As the shadow touches each name, each leaf, they wither. Flake. Disintegrate into ash.
I watch in helpless horror as generation after generation of the Draken line crumbles into dust. And still the darkness climbs, unyielding. It reaches the uppermost branches—where my name, Nikolaas’s, and Bram’s linger, still clinging to life. But it’s coming for us. I feel it.
