CAIN

NINE

"Here doggy, doggy," I sung to myself as the woods crept quietly around me. The stillness left a sickness in my stomach, but I had already made promises to find the lycan king within the forest surrounding the palace.

Torches from guards could be seen in the distance, leading guests to their carriages or setting off various search parties. My hands felt naked without my staff, so I clutched a silver dagger I kept strapped to my thigh for emergencies such as these. Though I was doubtful such a weapon would do anything to protect me from the monster I was going to meet.

"I am Morgana Swann," I found myself whispering, my feet barefoot and stinging from the cold, "I can turn air into fire. I can pull rabbits out of hats."

The last one was a lie, but I really only needed to fool myself. And then I was standing dangerously still, faced with those honey eyes illuminated in the dark. My voice was steadier than my heart, which I could feel pounding against my chest, "Your Fuzziness, let's take this nice and slow."

It was walking towards me - stalking even - with painfully slow and deliberate steps. I was walking backwards now, but my eyes were glowing. "Don't come closer," I warned, pointing the dagger towards him.

It, he, paused. And then growled, a deep and guttural sound that made take a sharp intake of breath. "You're not thinking straight," I told him, "I don't want to have to fight you so why don't we just calm down?"

I crouched, placing the dagger down, curious if it would placate the alpha. And it almost did, before he began to approach me. My hands immediately raised to my defence, flames following my fingertips as I drew them to my sides once again. I was staring straight back at him, and for a moment, fear was a foreign emotion. He was watching me. I was watching him watch me.

"You are going to sleep now, Your Highness. There a lot of people who are worried about you."

His eyes narrowed, teeth bared until I frowned, and he was still again. "Do you understand me?" I asked him.

The beast stepped out into the light of the fire and it was now that I had the sudden urge to run. He was a golden brown, thick fur coating each fibre of taut muscle that seemed to stretch with the sheer enormity of his being. He began circling as my flames burned brighter.

"Cain, you're scaring me. I want to go home."

The wolf was growling - or was he pining? A strange part of me wanted to trust him, to let him prove to me that what I felt towards him was justified. But I knew that leap of trust could easily become fatal. In truth, there was no Cain before me, only lycan, only beast.

"If you kill me, I swear I'll come back and haunt you."

He stopped circling, as if he was becoming unsure of himself. And then he was rolling over onto his back, his neck bared as he moved his great head to the side in a peculiar act of submission. "What in Hecate's good name are you doing?"

In exaggerated degrees, my crouching turned to a kneel. I let him approach me, hands still alight with magic. His head too large to fit on my lap but he certainly tried. I reached to the patch of softness between his ears, and his pining became purring.

"They think you've gone lupe," I told him, thankful I wasn't going to have to fight off a lycan just yet, "But I think I'm the one who has truly gone mad."

He wasn't listening to me. Instead, he was nuzzling against my chest, the weight knocking me backwards slightly. He used this to his advantage to move more of his body over me. "I never really liked dogs that much, you know," I laughed, which the wolf didn't react to as long as I kept my hands stroking his back. "I was always more of a cat person."

I wanted to move away, but the silly wolf didn't let me. He was back to his growling, which I came to realise was simply him being a grouch. With a sigh of reluctance, I waited for his eyes to close as his head lay on my thighs, amusing myself by reaching for his tail and his ears to find them silky to touch.

In this form, he was most likely immune to my magic and the silver dagger unable to penetrate his skin. But instead of hunting me down like many shifters had done with witches, he became an overgrown dog - my overgrown dog. From what Alice has informed me, one ought not to treat lycans as house pets but this one didn't seem to mind.

"What did they do to you to force you to shift?" His eyes met mine, and I searched them for the remnants of a drug or perhaps a spell but I felt nothing.

The voices of palace guards allowed me a chance to move his head and call for help, but as I turned to face him, I was greeted with such a strangely familiar sensation, bringing me to my knees. My stomach turned in on itself, my throat dry and tight.

This was how Alice and her father found us. The witch frozen in fear, with the rogue king laying beside her. He did not let anyone approach until I used the distraction of the others to take the soporaltum - the sleeping grind - and cast it around me, reciting the incantation that would force slumber to anyone within its reach.

It was not just the lycan that was forced into a sleep, but even my dearest friend and the men that had come with her. Cain, in his most primal form, fought the effects as I scrambled away from him but this was an incantation older than even he, and his limbs soon became out of his control. His body heaved as it hit the ground.

I needed my staff, and I needed to get out of here. In my hysteria, I ran deeper into the forest, cursing Hecate as my magic became unstable with my distress.

I knew what had caused the lycan king to shift, and what could potentially force any werewolf to a permanent lupe state. I knew because it was the first spell I had ever willed without conjuring books or staffs or mediums. It was pure sorcery, and the reason I had ever made a name for myself.

Cain held the mark of the enchantress - of me. He had been forced to shift by persuasion, the art of inhabiting and dominating another's mind. I was the first to witness this kind of magic, but it was becoming apparent I was not the only one capable of such power, or such evil.