CADEON POV
"The solution is simple," Prince Theron said, his clawed finger stabbing at the map spread across the war table. "We eliminate them all."
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack.
Around the table, twelve beast nobles nodded like puppets. The war council chamber reeked of expensive wine and bloodlust. Outside the windows, the capital city of Valdris sprawled beneath us—beasts walking freely while humans scurried in the shadows, afraid to even look up.
"Eliminate," I repeated slowly, my voice cutting through the murmurs of agreement. "You mean murder. Say what you actually mean, Prince Theron."
The room went silent.
Theron's wolf eyes—ice blue and empty of mercy—fixed on me. He smiled, showing too many teeth. "Careful, General Nightfang. Your three hundred years of service don't make you untouchable."
"Nothing makes me untouchable." I leaned forward, letting my panther show in my eyes—golden and burning. "But I earned the right to speak truth in this room. So here's truth: the Purge Laws you're proposing aren't about security. They're about genocide."
A lion beastman named Gorath slammed his fist on the table. "The humans breed like rats! In another generation, they'll outnumber us. We must act now."
"They're slaves," I shot back. "Slaves we've kept weak and broken for centuries. How exactly are they a threat?"
"Your problem, Cadeon," Theron said softly, dangerously, "is that you think too much. You question too much. Some might even say... you sympathize too much."
The accusation hung in the air like poison.
Every eye turned to me. Sympathizing with humans was treason. Treason meant execution, general or not.
I should've backed down. Should've played politics.
Instead, I stood. All six feet seven inches of muscle and barely contained rage.
"I don't sympathize," I said coldly. "I've killed more humans than anyone in this room. I've led armies against their rebellions. I've burned their villages and broken their heroes. But I don't lie to myself about what I am." I looked directly at Theron. "I'm a monster. At least I own it. What's your excuse?"
Theron's face went red, then white. His claws extended, scraping wood.
"This council is dismissed," he said through gritted teeth. "Everyone out. Except you, General. You and I need to talk."
The other nobles fled like roaches from light. Cowards, all of them.
When the door closed, Theron circled me like a predator. "You're making enemies, Cadeon. Powerful ones."
"I've had powerful enemies before. They're all dead."
"Because my father protected you." Theron's smile turned cruel. "But my father is dying. In three months, maybe less, I'll be king. And when I am, I'll pass the Purge Laws. I'll wipe the humans from existence. And if you stand in my way—"
"You'll what?" I let my panther fully show now, my voice dropping to a growl. "Try to kill me? Many have tried, boy. I'm still here."
We stared at each other. Two predators, both knowing blood would spill between us eventually.
"You're dismissed, General," Theron finally said. "For now."
I left before I did something we'd both regret.
---
My assistant Veron found me in my private chambers that night, staring at the portrait I kept hidden behind a bookshelf.
Silver-grey eyes stared back at me from the canvas. A woman's face—beautiful, defiant, and dead by my hand twenty years ago.
Elira Thorne. The rebel leader who'd almost toppled our entire empire.
"Still torturing yourself?" Veron asked quietly. He'd been with me for a century. He knew all my ghosts.
"She looked me in the eyes," I said, my voice rough. "When I put the blade through her heart, she looked at me and said, 'You'll regret this. Not today. But someday, you'll understand what you've done.'"
"She was a traitor."
"She was right." I downed the glass of whiskey I'd been nursing. "I do regret it. Every single day."
Veron sighed. "You followed orders. The king commanded—"
"Don't." I cut him off. "Don't make excuses for me. I chose to do it. I could've refused. Could've helped her escape. But I was a good soldier. A loyal dog." I laughed bitterly. "And now Theron wants to kill every human in the empire. Tell me, Veron—how many times can I be on the wrong side before I'm just evil?"
Veron had no answer.
I fell asleep still staring at those painted eyes.
And I dreamed.
---
*The dream was always the same.*
*Elira, chained and bleeding, kneeling before me. The execution grounds. A thousand beasts watching.*
*"Do you have any last words?" I asked.*
*She smiled—not afraid, not begging. "My daughter will finish what I started. And when she does, General Nightfang, I hope you remember this moment."*
*"You have no daughter. Our spies confirmed it."*
*"You're wrong." She tilted her head, those silver-grey eyes burning into mine. "She's out there. Growing up free. And one day, she'll make you choose."*
*"Choose what?"*
*"Whether you're a monster by nature—or by choice."*
*Then I drove the blade home.*
---
I woke gasping, my panther clawing at my insides, wanting out. Twenty years, and the dream never changed. The guilt never faded.
Morning light filtered through my windows. I felt ancient. Tired. So damn tired.
Veron knocked and entered with breakfast I wouldn't eat. "Sir? You have no official duties today. Though I should mention—the Grand Auction is this afternoon."
I frowned. "The slave auction?"
"Yes, sir. The capital holds them monthly. You've never attended before, but several high-ranking nobles will be there. It might be... diplomatic to make an appearance."
Every part of me wanted to refuse. I hated those auctions—hated watching humans sold like cattle, hated the smell of fear and despair.
But Theron would be there. And if I didn't show, he'd use it as more evidence that I was "sympathizing."
"Fine," I growled. "I'll attend. Briefly."
Veron nodded and left.
I dressed slowly, every movement feeling wrong. Something felt off today. My panther was restless, pacing inside my mind like it sensed a storm coming.
Probably just more nightmares bleeding into my waking hours.
I caught my reflection in the mirror—golden eyes, hard face, the look of a killer who'd lived too long.
"Monster by nature or by choice," I whispered to my reflection, Elira's words echoing. "Does it even matter?"
My reflection didn't answer.
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door, trying to ignore the strange pull in my chest—like a rope yanking me toward something I couldn't see.
The auction house waited.
And somewhere in the city, silver-grey eyes I thought I'd never see again were about to change everything.
*I just didn't know it yet.*