Stigma

Clara

Felix pulled up his hood at the sound of my gasp and narrowed his eyes. He looked to the prince for guidance. Prince Legiere only smiled through his teeth at me and continued to smoke, as if it were just another day dealing with a sorcerer.

“He has the Stigma and the Mark,” I said. Suddenly, I was unsure of myself. In the Moonstone Pack, or anywhere in Lycaneum, Felix would have been hunted, questioned, and burned alive. Sorcerers were burned, so that the Stigma would not spread to any other werewolf.

I remembered Prince Legiere’s young betrothed. She too had the Stigma. Had there been an outbreak here in Khordon? Why hadn’t word gotten out about this in nearly every corner of Lycaneum? Is this why the Alpha of the Moonstone Pack wanted nothing to do with the Dark Shade? Did he hear about the sorcerers – werewolves who defied all reason and sought the arts of magic, at great risk to themselves and to everyone around them?

“I’ve got the Mark,” Felix said coolly. “What of it?” Onc