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I should have expected that. I’d grown used to disguising my malice from the Nightlords with a placid face and pretty words. A Curse was no little than hateful intentions made manifest, so all I had to do was wrap it up in a Veil of insincere words and empty reassurances. Both spells used my Tonalli and thus could work in tandem.

“I am impressed, my son,” Mother complimented me as I presented her with my latest work: a translucent feather. Were I not holding it in my hand, I woul ...

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Born and raised as a nameless shadow guard for his kingdom’s crown prince, his life’s purpose was to be used and discarded at the whims of his liege.

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Transmigrating into the body of a baby girl, the nameless shadow finally had a name, a family, and a place to call her own. Throwing away his past, the shadow guard was now called ‘Emilia’, and walked on a new path to seek fulfillment.

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The crowd clamored at the ‘deserved death of the villainess’, and at that moment, the shadow could only wonder… why?

Why am I always the one to dedicate myself fully to someone, only to be thrown away like trash in the end?

And thus, as her soul floated away while cursing in resentment, ‘Emilia’ vowed to herself that in her next life she shall never be the one to fully dedicate herself.

Whatever she likes shall be held in her palm, and shall never escape.

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And by cultivating this energy, she shall one day go back. Back to the world she was born as ‘Emilia’ in, and face the so-called heroine once more.

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...

Author's Note: The heroines are not just trophies she’s collecting, only to be forgotten once she collects them. Each of them will remain relevant throughout the story. And it won’t become a mess, promise!

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*****

He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.