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Another swig.
Werewolves who lost their mates didn’t live very long after. So why was he still alive? Was it because he didn’t get to claim her before she died?
Ha, what a sick joke that would be.
Antonio scratched at the stubble forming beneath his chin. He didn’t know why he still lived, only that he did. Albeit poorly.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A light tapping against his windowpane startled him, drawing his attention from his suffocating thoughts.
Groaning, he twisted his head to see what was making that noise, surprised to see a black raven propped against his windowsill, an envelope hanging from its beak.
Seeming to notice it caught Antonio’s attention, the raven tapped its beak against the glass several more times.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Damn witches,” Antonio muttered, running a lazy palm down his face. Witches could choose any animal in the world to be their familiar, yet nearly all of them chose ravens. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. Perhaps ravens were trending this decade. Witches justlovedto follow the latest trends.
When the raven continued pecking its beak against the glass he reluctantly came to a stand, groaning,“I’m coming!” Damn this irritating bird.
The bird didn’t stop its incessant pecking until Antonio reached the window. He didn’t have the faintest idea why a witch was sending him a letter, but he assumed he was about to find out.
When he yanked the window open, letting the cool night air to seep into his room, the raven opened its beak just enough for the envelope to fall to the floor. Then, it blinked up at Antonio, as if trying to tell him something, before flying away, blending into the darkness of the night.
Antonio had to be losing his mind. Maybe the whiskey was getting to him.
Grimacing, Antonio placed his drink on the window’s edge and reached for the envelope, immediately noticing it was stamped with the seal of elven royalty.
The seal read:Elaron.
Why the fuck was he receiving mail from Elaron? Werewolves didn’t associate with elves, and they especially didn’t associate with the elves that lived on Elaron. Anyone living on that island was either an elven noble or a pathetic fuck who wished to be.
Antonio ripped open the envelope, supposing there was only one way to find out.
A beautifully designed invitation greeted him, clad in lavish elven art.
It read:
To the boldest among us,
King Valaris would like to invite species of all kinds to attend our infamous bi-centennial tournament - The Elaron Games!
The risks may be great, but the rewards will be greater.
The twenty-second year of The Elaron Games, as always, will be exceptionally generous to the being who can prove his superiority in battle. We promise not to disappoint, and we haven’t disappointed yet.
Imagine your heart’s greatest desire. Now, imagine you can will it into reality.
Yes, we have secured The Heart of Aphrodite - a necklace capable of granting its owner a single wish.
Are you the brave champion capable of winning this sacred amulet?
If we’ve convinced you to join The Elaron Games, you are welcome! The opening celebrations will begin promptly on the morning of Beltane.
We hope to see you there.
Happy sparring!
