LORRY SPRINGSTONE'S/KELLY THOMPSON'S POV
The shapeshifter's gaze softens almost imperceptibly as it lands on Eden. Our boy, usually so boisterous, is uncharacteristically quiet, clinging to my leg.
"I see," she says, her voice losing some of its edge. "And what makes you think you'll find safety here?"
"We've heard rumors," I say cautiously, "of a neutral territory. A place where different species coexist peacefully. We hoped..." I then made up, crossing my fingers for the shapeshifter to believe me.
The latter looks at me with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.
"Rumors," she repeats, her lips curving into a slight smile. "Interesting. And how exactly did these rumors reach your ears?"
I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. Jason squeezes my hand, a silent way to tell me to be cautious with the choice of my words.
"A sympathetic witch," I clarify. "She helped us escape and pointed us in this direction."
The shapeshifter's eyebrows rise.
"A witch? Now that is unexpected." She then declares before taking a step closer, her form shimmering slightly as if she can't quite decide on a shape.
"Then tell me, what is the witch's name?"
I exchange a glance with Jason. This could be a test, or a trap. But we've come too far to turn back now. "Mel," I say softly. "Her name is Mel." I repeat myself.
Mel is a famous witch among werewolves and beyond. So I silently pray the shapeshifter has heard of her one way or another.
The effect is immediate. The shapeshifter's eyes widen, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. She takes a step back, her form solidifying into that of a tall, lithe woman with silvery hair.
"Mel," she breathes, more to herself than to us. "It's been years..."
I hold my breath, not daring to hope. Jason's grip on my hand tightens.
The shapeshifter shakes her head, as if clearing away cobwebs of memory. When she looks at us again, her gaze is sharp but no longer hostile.
"Very well," she says. "You may enter our territory, but know this: we tolerate no violence here. Any aggression towards our residents, and you'll be cast out immediately. Understood?"
We nod eagerly, relief washing over me.
"Thank you," I say. "We promise to abide by your rules and laws.
The shapeshifter nods curtly, then turns and begins walking deeper into the forest. "Follow me," she calls over her shoulder. "I'll take you to the council. They'll want to hear your story."
Jason and I exchange a nervous glance before hurrying after her. However, our son Eden is still surprisingly composed. As we walk, the trees seem to part before us, revealing a hidden path that winds through the dense undergrowth. I can't help but feel we're being watched. Shadows flicker at the corners of my vision, and occasionally I catch glimpses of fur or scales among the foliage.
"Don't mind them," the shapeshifter says, noticing my unease. "They're just curious. We don't get many visitors here."
After what feels like hours of walking, the trees suddenly thin out, revealing a large clearing. In the center stands a circle of ancient standing stones, weathered and covered in moss.
As we approach, I see figures emerging from the shadows between the stones. They move with an otherworldly grace, their forms shifting and blurring as they draw near. Some appear human, others animal, and still others seem to be a mix of both.
The shapeshifter who led us here steps forward, addressing the gathering. "Council members, I bring before you three travelers who seek sanctuary in our lands. They come with knowledge of Mel."
A murmur ripples through the assembled beings. An elderly man with antlers sprouting from his brow steps forward, his eyes fixed on us.
"Strangers," he intones, his voice deep and resonant, "you stand before the Council of Shifters. State your names and your purpose here."
I swallow hard, gathering my courage.
"I am Lily," I say, my voice thankfully steady as I give a false name.
"And this is my husband, James," I gesture to Jason, who nods solemnly. "And our son, Pan."
Eden steps forward, his young face serious. "We've come seeking refuge," he says, his voice clear and strong despite his age. "We're fleeing from those who would harm us because of what we know."
The antlered man's gaze sharpens. "And what is it that you know, young one?"
I place a protective hand on Eden's shoulder, but he shrugs it off gently. "We know the truth about who killed our former King. Her name is Betty," he says naively. "And what she's planning."
A hush falls over the gathering. The antlered man exchanges glances with the other council members before turning back to us. "This is grave news indeed," he says. "Tell us everything."
Jason and I are baffled by our son's careless words who obviously didn't grasp that we were trying to hide our real identity to our hosts by not revealing anything that could help trace our state of origin and thus preserve ourselves from any possible harm or from being sold out to the North pack.
I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead as I frantically try to think of a way to salvage the situation. Jason squeezes my hand, a silent signal for me to stay calm.
"Perhaps," I say, my voice shakier than I'd like, "we could discuss this matter more... privately? It's a delicate subject, and we've traveled far. We're weary and in need of rest."
The antlered man's eyes narrow, but before he can respond, another council member steps forward. This one appears to be a woman, though her features are constantly shifting, like ripples on a pond.
"The child speaks true," she says, her voice melodic and soothing. "I sense no deception in his words, only fear and exhaustion. Let us offer them shelter for the night, and we can speak more in the morning."
The antlered man considers this for a long moment, his dark eyes searching our faces. Finally, he nods slowly. "Very well," he says. "You will be given quarters for the night. But know this - you are not free to wander our realm. Guards will be posted at your door, for your protection and ours."
I breathe a sigh of relief, though tension still coils in my stomach. As we're led away by two silent figures in shimmering cloaks, I can feel the weight of the council's stares on our backs.
Our quarters turn out to be a small, circular room carved into the trunk of an enormous tree. Despite its size, it's surprisingly cozy, with soft moss covering the floor and bioluminescent fungi providing a gentle, otherworldly light.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I turn to Eden, my voice barely above a whisper.