ERANA: Must Murder The Alpha King

Under My Spell

Erana eliminated her final adversary before keeping an eye out for her other men. The war was getting too intense, and their opponents outnumbered them. Her soldiers were dying like ants. Their manpower was running low. She ran her hand down her hair before dusting her hands on her armour.

“Father will be deeply disappointed by this,” she said, discouraged. With a panicked look, she raced into the battlefield and fought the most she could.

“Here!” Someone threw her gun at her. She caught it sharply and aimed her target at their rival’s captain. She barely used the gun except for emergencies. But since her soldiers were dying like chickens, she had no other choice.

“Watch how the headless ants scurry away,” she said to herself before pulling the trigger.

The other soldiers gazed at her in shock and backed away from her men. They have never seen such a weapon before. She smirked.

“That’s how you do it.”

***

"Fetch his head!” Erana Shackles heard her father's command while kneeling before him. She was done with her day’s battle and was ready for her night mission. It was another full moon, which meant another hunt. Her hunting prowess had been recognized since she was twelve years old, but she was determined to put this particular hunt to an end by claiming the head of the elusive beast mentioned in whispers. Tonight, she sought out Lysander Finman, the leader of the werewolf guards—a formidable opponent who had never been defeated. His kind was known for their hostility and thirst for blood, and they posed a threat to their people. Although her ancestors had killed his wife and daughter, the kingdom demanded the murder of the entire clan. Erana, with her alluring beauty and sharp intellect, was seen as their only hope. Only she could put an end to this impending madness.

"Please give me your blessing," Erana asked, her piercing blue eyes meeting her father's. "I leave in search of blood, and with blood, I shall return.”

Her father gave a smile. He admired her outfit and bit his lip, disappointed. She was a lady of unusual choices, but how could she wear a flowing gown instead of her usual armour?

"Why leave your armour for casual attire?" he asked.

"It is not necessary to wear armour in battle, Father," she responded, her tone defiant.

He chuckled as he summoned a servant carrying a treasure box. The treasure box was opened swiftly, and he gestured to the lady to leave it. From inside the treasure box, he retrieved a magical amulet and placed it around her neck.

"You look like your mother," he said fondly, admiring the beautiful ornament. “My child, go forth and return triumphant! This talisman will shield you from your enemies.”

Erana touched the magical amulet with hopeful fingers before bowing to her father one last time. Within a few minutes, she led a few soldiers into the darkened forest. The full moon hung high in the sky, and her white gown billowed around her.

"This amulet brings back memories of my mother," she muttered to herself. "It reminds me of that fateful night.”

Her grip on her knife tightened as memories of a traumatic night came flooding back to her. She remembered hearing sobs and bloodied fangs. She recalled seeing blood and hearing her mother’s high-pitched scream. But that was it! The circumstances surrounding her mother's death remained unknown. Nothing but the amulet could reveal to her what had happened that night. Why did the Alpha King kill her?

Her men strode confidently through the forest, their steps firm and unwavering.

"Behind every successful man, there is a woman," Erana mused aloud. "But behind that man may also lurk his downfall—a woman consumed by rage, possessing the power to either make or break him."

As the full moon ascended higher into the sky, the amulet glimmered with renewed intensity. Once again, she envisioned the fearsome fangs, but this time, her mother's face appeared more evident. She witnessed her mother's terror as the monstrous creature loomed over her, a chilling encounter etched into her memory since childhood. Her five-year-old brain could not process the gruesome scene. She was terrified. The sight of the beast killing her mother became a recurring nightmare that she desperately wanted to forget. At twenty-two, Erana vowed to avenge her mother's death and restore justice to her kingdom.

"I shall ruin you and your son, Lysander Finman," she whispered. She stopped walking and watched her men leave ahead of her. She quickly slashed her arm with her knife, picked up a stone, and banged her head before tearing her gown and smearing herself with mud. She loosened her bound hair, allowing it to cascade in disarray around her shoulders. She sat on the cold sand and cried out for help, feigning distress.

“Help! Help me!” She sobbed, shedding fake tears.

"You will jeopardize the plan!" her men exclaimed in shock. Her sudden switch of moods was one thing they never expected that day.

Despite their protests, she continued to wail, her gaze scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.

“Leave me alone! Please!” She proceeded.

“Shhh! "What exactly are you doing?” One of her soldiers grasped her arm. “What is up with your appearance?”

Suddenly, a howl pierced the night air, sending shivers down their spines. While her men searched anxiously for the source of the sound, Erana smirked, knowing her ruse had succeeded.

"Apologies, gentlemen," she said, wiping her tears with a wicked grin. "But sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

Emerging from the dense undergrowth was a werewolf who attacked her men with brutal efficiency. That rendered them helpless against his onslaught. Erana laughed inside, watching the fool fight for her. She watched him finish all of her men as if she were a helpless maiden incapable of fighting for herself. When the werewolf finished, he transformed into a young, attractive man. His hazel eyes met hers with concern, and she gasped recognizing it.

Those helpless lone wolf eyes from those days!

"Do not be afraid. You are safe now," he reassured Erana, extending a comforting hand.

Of course, it had to be Darius Finman, the sole surviving heir of the Midnight Clan.

Erana forced a smile, nodding hesitantly as she eyed him warily.

"Please, tell me who you are. Let me offer you aid,” he continued.

"I... I..." she pretended to stammer.

"Fret not. As long as I am here, you are under my protection.” His voice was gentle and reassuring.

“Really?” She asked, pretending to be the meek girl her father despised. “Would you really protect me?”

He offered her a grateful look. Unknown to him, she slowly inched out for the knife, gazing into his eyes to distract him. She could tell he was charmed by her beauty and couldn’t look away. She withdrew her hand from her pocket and stabbed him in the chest.

"Unfortunately for you, no one can protect you now," she whispered into his ears.