Chapter 0001

Prudence's POV

"Happy Birthday, Rue," I sighed out, flicking the pen over that I'd been balancing on its tip. Not with physics, but with the meager amount of magic I had been blessed with.

Or cursed, depending on how you look at it.

So you see, here's a little about me. 

I'm nineteen as of today, March 27th. Fellow Aries, where you at? 

Mom died when I was really young. Dear old dad, always busy with other things, never found time to spend with me.

I was raised by an old bag of bones and her crochety brother, both of whom hated me, personally. But put up with me because of what I could potentially accomplish for them some day.

I have no friends. No life experience. Don't ever get to have fun.

Now I know what you're thinking, "Oh no, here comes another sad story about a young girl with daddy issues, who didn't even have it as bad as others her age have had it."

Well, I'm going to stop you right there.

What if I told you, that the only reason my father kept me alive and raised me was to further his "purpose in this world?"

Now you might be asking: "What do you mean by that, Prudence?"

Well, you see, I'm a young female witch. And unfortunately, we're rare these days. Like, extremely rare. As in, I'm the only one who had been born in the last thirty years. And there's this prophecy that my father's people, a group of hags and cranks called the Synod of Ancyra, think that the child I'm going to give birth to someday is going to be the only way to save our race and give them back the power we once held.

Based on this prophecy, to be exact:

From the shadows of the ancient Forests,

under the moon's darkest veil,

a daughter of Sköll shall emerge,

her fur as black as night,

her spirit intertwined with magic's might.

She bears the power to tip the scales,

to sow either harmony's bloom or chaos's gales.

The Keystone's path, a labrynth of fate,

where destinies entwine and the future waits.

I know, I know. That's a mouthful, so I'll break it down for you. The first four lines has been interpreted to mean from the bloodlines of the oldest known werewolf families, a baby girl werewolf pup will be born. But... not just any ordinary werewolf girl. A girl whose "spirit" will be "intertwined" with magic. Meaning, this girl will be a werewolf, who is also a mage.

How is this possible, you might ask? Well, it's never been in the past, but what the prophecy says, goes. Who am I to question a thousand year old prediction made by some long dead oracle? 

But I digress.

So, the Council believes that since the prophecy says a "daughter of Sköll" in it, specifically mentioning the very male Norse God that werewolves are believed to hail from, means that the father must be a werewolf while the mother is a witch. Otherwise the verse would have said the "daughter of magic" or the "daughter of (insert gods name here)" Hermes, Loki, Thoth, take your pick. But no. It said daughter of Sköll.

See where I'm going with this yet?

Yep. My father raised me as his own prized cow for breeding.

Now that I was nineteen, I have fully come into my powers or abilities or what have you, so I was free to carry out my own purpose. 

The purpose bestowed on me by my dear, loving daddy.

Today may be my birthday.

But it's also the day my father has decided to sell me, preferably to Lathan Nordberg. One of the most infamous werewolves of our time. Drug lord, mafia boss, murderer. But to my father, most importantly, Old Blood. And the future daddy of my babies.

Still think I'm just a sad, priveleged teenager who thinks I have it worse than I do?

Well, good thing you're not the one living my life then, right?

"What's taking you so long?" Lenny Tilki, one of the cranks I mentioned earlier pushed the tapestry aside in the doorway, annoyance dripping from his features when he took in my slumped shoulders, elbow on the table, and my cheek resting in my hand. And then the status of my body still adorned in pajamas rather than the lavish Louis Vuitton dress that they probably broke the bank on by purchasing just to dress me up like a painted peacock to try and impress Lathan.

"There's a flaw in your little scheme," I said with a sigh, giving him my best "devil may care" look that I knew annoyed the older warlock even though I was shaking on the inside. I'd rather die than let anyone know that this whole situation scared the Hell out of me.

"I doubt it," his lips were thin in annoyance, crossings his arms over his chest. "Get dressed," he ordered.

"What if Lathan, despite all of your trouble and how much effort you put into teaching me to be the bestest little lady ever," I drawled out the last few words, giving him a puppy-dog look, "doesn't in fact, fancy me afterall. Then what? There won't be any excahnge of money. No exchange of money means I don't go home with him. Not going home with him means no sexy time. No sexy time means no behbeh for the pwophecy," I said with mock worry, finishing the sentence in my most annoying baby voice.

Lenny narrowed his eyes at me. "We've considered every angle of this. We've been researching, spying, plotting and scheming since before you were even out of diapers."

"I still don't see how-" I began but a quick glare from him cut me off just as Leanne, his sister, his equal in everything except height, strode in. Her eyes took in the whole situation quickly before they rolled.

"Get dressed."