'That's not possible,' I mutter, contradicting my initial thoughts after a storm of speculation. Alisha takes another sip of her tea before placing it down on the table with a smile.

'Again, that was my first thought too. The rumors have been circulating for a while, especially around the Darknight Pack. I started asking around, and though the information was scarce, the trail eventually led me straight to them.'

The Darknight Pack, the place where, four years ago, I bought a seven-year-old Silver to save her from being married off to a sixty-year-old man in exchange for a large sum of money. A struggling pack ruled by aging Alphas with little financial stability.

Before Alisha can continue her story, our plates are placed in front of us. The waitress vanishes as quickly as she appeared.

'An eighteen-year-old boy named Aishat was reportedly kept hidden under strict rules within their hunting groups. No one understood his powers or form, so they didn't know what to do with him.'

She leans forward over her plate, and I, still listening, take a spoonful of my steaming soup.

'It's true. He transformed into the form we've only read about in books. He possesses the magic and the strength,' she whispers, excitement in her voice.

'Interesting. But what are you planning to do with this information?' I ask skeptically, taking another bite of my soup.

Alisha straightens up, smiling, as I dip my spoon into the soup again.

'That's the fun part. I'm not doing anything. You are.'

The spoon slips from my hand, splashing into the soup. Thankfully, the room is loud enough that the sound doesn't carry far, though the people seated next to us glance over curiously.

'What do you mean by 'I'm doing something'?' I ask, raising an eyebrow.

'We need to get him out of that pack. I tried, but they demanded an outrageous sum, and I don't have the resources to take him in. His magic is wasted there, and this development is critical for healing, lifelines, and the future. Imagine if Runcast's legend is true and a new Cheeath pack could emerge. Maybe it's a sign, a herald of the new Night Riders,' she rambles enthusiastically.

'You want me to buy the boy and take him in?' I sigh, stirring my soup absentmindedly.

Alisha leans back, picks up her fork, and stabs a piece of her steaming salmon.

'Exactly. The girl, Luna, from the stories hasn't been found yet, but there's a lead. Once we bring them together, we can observe them, train them, and perhaps even pave the way for a new Cheeath lineage in the future.'

The spoon of soup I was about to eat hovers mid-air in front of my lips.

Alisha always views these matters with the perspective of a healer. For her, every new discovery is a doorway to endless possibilities.

'I'm not breeding Cheeaths,' I counter firmly.

With a mouthful of salmon, she raises her hand before covering her lips politely.

'That's not what I meant. Absolutely no forced actions. But the opportunity needs to exist. If they don't even know each other, how can they learn from one another or grow to understand their connection? Any potential offspring would be a bonus, not the goal.'

My gut tells me this plan is far more complicated than it seems, and I want no part of it.

'How much is the Alpha asking?' I finally ask, taking another bite.

'Eight thousand.'

That's significantly more than what he demanded for his daughter.

Slowly, I set my spoon down, clasp my hands together, and meet Alisha's gaze.

'Who's going to train them?'

'You can handle the magic side, I'll work on the animalistic aspects, and Elien can help with combat training if necessary. Of course, Novak would be an even better option.'

Sighing, I finish the last of my soup and place the spoon back into the bowl.

'Here's the deal. I'm willing to buy him and offer a place in the house, but if you also find the girl, I won't have time to train two Cheeaths intensively. They'll get the same lessons and guidance as everyone else,' I state firmly.

A broad smile spreads across Alisha's face.

'I'll write a letter to the Alpha. Thank you,' she beams, her excitement practically radiating.

The conversation settles into a calmer rhythm. Alisha finally has time to enjoy her salmon while recounting stories of her travels and discoveries. I share updates about the children and the state of the orphanage, far less thrilling than her adventures.

As the waitress comes to clear our plates, Elien suddenly appears beside the table, seemingly out of nowhere. The startled girl quickly grabs the dishes and scurries away.

'I have news that can't wait,' he announces curtly, sitting beside me in his dark, heavy cloak.

'Always a pleasure to see you again, Elien,' Alisha quips with sarcasm.

Elien offers a small nod and pulls a folded piece of paper from beneath his cloak.

'The front page of tomorrow's newspaper.'

I'm about to ask why the usual drivel from the Black Pencil is so urgent, typically, it's nothing but reports on the death of an old drunk, another grain shortage, or the opening of a new shop.

But this time, it's anything but mundane.

The king and queen are dead.

I snatch the paper from the table and begin to read.

King Galen Evander Monré found dead in his bed after a brief illness with riosis, followed by the shocking suicide of Queen Diana Feline Monré.

Staring at the page in disbelief, I whisper, 'There's no riosis outbreak, and if anyone wouldn't kill herself over her husband's death, it's Diana.'

'Keep reading,' Elien urges as Alisha watches me with wide, panicked eyes.

Unknown Princess Chanel Felice Monré stakes her claim to the throne.

It seems my days of peace are officially over.