How is it, the Oracle—our most beloved celebrity—does not rule Freyland? The answer is quite simple. His gifts require isolation as he gazes at potential futures. While he watches over our future, the High Council tends to the present.

  – Marcus Bradley, Head of the department of history in the International University of Caelfall

  Titus was wandering through the woods, staying away from large centres of population. He sighed. First his father had been called to war. His mother had been dead long ago. When they told him that his father hadn't made it, they had kicked him out of the little shop and home. He had been too young to run it by himself, and so they had tossed him onto the streets.

  Titus scowled as he scratched the red fur on his cheek. The crunch of the fallen leaves underfoot vanished beneath the laughter of nocturnal birds. He had been foolish when he had invited the other orphans to plunder a restricted area in Tranlin to the south. All they had found was a strange contraption which had turned him into whatever he was now. Once a pureblood human boy, he now resembled a demi-human—but covered in far more fur than any races of demi-human he had ever seen before. He didn't know of any demi-humans with warg-like properties. Too much fur to be a human, too tall to be a yillip, too scrawny to be a beastfolk. He didn't know what to call himself but a monster.

  He sniffed the air as he got closer to the caravan, he'd been stalking. His stomach rumbled faintly but he suppressed it. Better to be sneaky and silent. Ever since the accident, he and people didn't mix well. "I suppose, that started when I became an orphan," he thought bitterly.

  From the safety of the underbrush, Titus spotted a cart which looked to contain supplies for the roaming circus. If he could make it inside undetected, he could probably eat well tonight. Even if it was only rations. He swallowed the saliva building in his mouth and scanned the area. No one in sight, but that didn't mean anything. He waited. Nothing. Maybe it was fine. This was the countryside. There wouldn't be any guards patrolling. In fact, he was probably the scariest thing out here.

  Titus bolted for the cart and peeked inside and immediately ducked under the cart to hide. He hadn't imagined it! There was definitely a person inside the dark cart. Why? It wasn't one of the carts they used as their homes, was it? There wasn't even a light on. But the silhouette against the moonlight seeping in through the canvas had been unmistakable. He crouched underneath the cart, making himself smaller and looked around. He had to get back to the underbrush. He had to hide and find another cart.

  "Poppy?" A male voice queried from inside the cart above Titus. In that moment, Titus spotted the dainty feet skipping past the cart and towards the opening he had just peeked inside.

  "Oh?" The new female arrival intoned. "Did you *see* me coming?" She chuckled harmoniously. She smelled like flowers and the wooden tones of the forest after a downpour. Titus wrinkled his nose. It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't feel real.

  "Quit your games and come inside already," the man demanded impatiently. The feet pushed off the floor and Titus heard a light tap as they landed on the cart above him. He listened. This was his chance to run, but something in the man's voice kept him. Was this curiosity? Dread? It shouldn't have anything to do with him.

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  "So, Kara's moving according to plan, yes?" The woman's sing-song was unmistakable.

  "Yes," the gruff man responded. "Barukk will not be happy. This will give us the opportunity we've been waiting for."

  Kara? Barukk? Titus knew Kara was the noble, who started this bloody war. The one responsible for his father's death. The reason he became an orphan. The reason he ended up like this. Like a monster. And Barukk, well, that was the giant empire next door. How was that country related? All Titus knew about them, was that Reikhan companies often bought Barukkian airships.

  "Are you sure she won't go through with the deal? What if she does?"

  The man's laughter came from his belly and shook the cart. "Kara? Of course she won't. Barukkians building a railroad on Reikhan land? There's just no way." A pause. Was he being dramatic or had they noticed Titus? But then the man continued, "Even if she did as they asked, we'd still have Vaera. That's what we really need."

  Titus shifted uncomfortably underneath the cart. This was too much. It sounded almost like the man had planned for this war to happen. And Queen Vaera was involved somehow? His head spun. Wasn't Queen Vaera just a kid? He had been kind of excited, when he had heard, that someone not much older than himself had become the Queen. If only he could be so lucky.

  "I sure hope, your plans work out the way you say…" The woman seemed unimpressed.

  "Don't doubt me. I *am* the Oracle in the North."

  "Not yet, you're not."

  Oracle? Like the leader of Freyland? Titus knew that a so called Oracle—one who could see the future to an extent—was leading the country of Freyland to the north. But he had never heard of an "Oracle in the North". Maybe he was just referring to the Oracle? His heart was beating furiously in his chest. Who were these people?

  Slowly, Titus started to sneak away. He had no intentions of getting involved in any of this. What would they do, if they found him? A creak in the wooden boards above him halted his movement and cold sweat ran down his back.

  "Perterwick, right?"

  A grunt in agreement from the man.

  "They'll be there. I've seen to it. Do you need anything else from me?"

  The man sighed, as Titus eyed the underbrush once more. It was so close. Maybe if he just bolted for it now.

  Titus didn't hear what the man said, as he pushed off and ran for the underbrush. It was dark. There was no way they'd notice him, they were inside the cart. He could disappear and they'd never know he was there. A grin borne from thrill and fear alike tucked at the corners of his mouth as he sprinted for the shadowy arms of the trees inviting him into their embrace.

  A strange sensation, intuition perhaps, made him look over his shoulder, and he locked eyes with her. Gorgeous, that's all he could think for a moment. The short-haired beauty's cold eyes were like a predator's gaze—sizing him up, calculating her approach.

  Titus reached the underbrush and kept running, not looking back. But only moments later, the world spun. Colours, shadows, lights swirled and converged before clashing and exploding behind his forehead. Before he knew it, he was on the ground dry-heaving and sweating.

  The fact he was alive after an experience like that briefly filled him with relief until he saw the knife in the woman's hand, her cold gaze stopping the pleas for mercy on his lips, as her hand rose to finish him off.

  The blade seemed to cut apart the moonlight as it rose into the air and Titus' eyes locked onto hers, searching for mercy, emotion, anything.

  "Stop!" The man's gruff voice cut through the scene of Titus' assured demise. "Look at the boy, Poppy!"

  Titus' pursuer—Poppy—turned to face the man and frowned. "Are you suggesting I spare him, because he's just a kid?"

  Shaking his head, the man approached and looked down at Titus on the floor. "I said look at him. He's…unique. Some sort of wolf boy?"

  Titus thought about the warg that had merged with him in the accident but didn't speak up. There was no way, he'd interrupt this conversation now. He swallowed hard as his wide eyes shot from Poppy to her collaborator.

  Poppy spun the knife a few times before sheathing it. "You want to use him as an attraction, don't you, Finn?"

  The man—Finn—grinned and nodded, his eyes glinting more than the blade had. "You know me so well."