Prologue

Oz

Ishould"ve just let my mother kill me. Instead, it looks like Mother Nature will finish the job.

The forest breathed around me, heavy and alive, as I raced through its underbelly. Leaves the size of my head slapped my muzzle. My paws thudded against the soft, damp earth. I sank with each step, even though I barely weighed more than the branches I was careful to avoid. The line between predator and prey was so fine as to be non-existent. Safety was something I was not sure existed anymore. Maybe it never had in this world ruled by a mad god. The air was thick with the scent of moss, magic and murder, a potent, earthy smell that stuck to the back of my throat.

Tall weeds whipped at my face. Thorns snagged in my fur. I pushed on, driven by a heartbeat that drummed loudly in my ears, like the racing pulse of a hunted creature. Which, I guess, was what I was now. The forest"s magic tugged at me. Vines curled around my legs, trying to slow me, to hold me back. The night"s breeze whispered of my guilt, of the terrible thing I"d done. The mistake that claimed me as predator. The decision that turned me prey. I tore through the foliage, but their thorny grip left stinging marks on my sleek black coat, little reminders of my betrayal.

I was just a cub. Would be considered an adolescent in my human form. The weight of my actions felt too heavy for my small shoulders. I couldn"t shake the image of my brother, weak and fading, while I... I took everything. Even Mama"s love, gone like the last light of day, leaving me alone in an endless night.

The trees closed in, their shadows like long, accusing fingers. Every snapped twig, every rustle of leaves sounded like a pursuer come to punish me for my selfishness. My heart raced faster, a desperate rhythm that synced with my paws pounding the ground.

I leapt over a fallen log. My starved body barely cleared it. My lungs burned with each breath. My sides heaved, threatening to let loose the little sustenance I had inside. This was my life now. Constantly running. If I stopped, I would die.

I wanted to howl, to release this ache in my chest. Fear clamped my throat shut. There were worse monsters in this forest than me.

The air was heavy, saturated with a sense of foreboding that clung to my fur like morning dew. The forest around me was a mix of shadows and whispers. Suddenly, a dark presence loomed over me, oppressive and ominous.

I froze. My instincts screamed at me to run. Lifting my head, I saw him—a lion, gaunt and ghostly, a skeletal figure in the twilight. His mane might once have been a majestic symbol of his might. It was now sparse and dull. The bones protruded sharply beneath his tawny skin, etching a map of his suffering that looked identical to mine.

Our eyes locked. In his gaze, there was hunger—a desperate, consuming need. There was triumph, too, as he saw in me his next meal. We could be reflections of each other. Except my coat was a dark void, absorbing the scant light, while his was a faded echo of glory lost.

A part of me accepted this as my fate. I had taken a life; it seemed only fitting that I should give mine in return. But as the lion charged, something primal awakened within me: survival. The need to hold on to what was left of my pathetic life clung to me, stubborn and defiant.

The fight began as a blur of motion and instinct. His claws swiped at me, sharp and merciless. But I was smaller and quicker. I dodged and wove. My own claws found his flesh.

It wasn"t enough. I hadn"t eaten in days. My strength was waning. My movements were sluggish.

The lion pinned me, his massive body a crushing weight. I gasped for breath, the earth cold and damp beneath me. His breath was hot and fetid on my face, the stench of decay and desperation. I saw the end in his eyes—a swift, brutal finish. I braced for the killing blow. But then he went slack.

Confusion mingled with my fear. What happened? I struggled out from under him. My body ached. My breath was ragged.

Lifting my head, I saw the cause of the lion"s sudden stillness. Standing over us was another lion. His coat was a brilliant gold that I"ve never seen the likes of. However, he had no mane.

I looked again and realized he wasn"t a lion. He was a jaguar. But without any spots. Not a single one. His coat was solid gold.

Recognition dawned. I rolled to my feet, struggling to all fours. I tried to shift back to the form of a human boy, but I couldn"t. I haven"t been a boy in days. Months? I couldn"t remember the last time I'd shifted.

Because I couldn"t kneel in front of the Prince of Panthera, I bowed my head and offered my neck as a show of submission.

The metallic scent of the lion"s blood and the earthy fragrance of the forest floor were a potent reminder of the battle that had just unfolded. My heart still pounded in my chest, a relentless drumbeat echoing the fear and adrenaline that had coursed through me only moments ago.

As I crouched there, battered and bruised, the majestic golden jaguar before me began to shift. Its form shimmered and contorted in a play of magic and light. Within moments, where the jaguar had stood now was a boy. Dion, Prince of Panthera, stood before me in his human form, his aura radiating power and authority.

He was the same age as me, yet the difference between us couldn"t have been more evident. His body, though smeared with the evidence of the fight, exuded health and vitality. A smile played on his lips with the blood that stained his mouth. It was a vivid contrast to the grim set of my own features.

"You almost had him."

I blinked, my gaze focused on the prince"s bloody grin. There was something in his obsidian eyes. It was like the hunger I'd seen in the lion"s dull eyes, but this prince was well fed. What I saw was clearly blood lust.

"If you had only dug your claws into his neck, he would"ve gone down." Prince Dion demonstrated with sharp claws that glinted in the moonlight. "But it was good effort."

The prince was coaching me on my fighting skills?

His smile dropped as quickly as it appeared. He cocked his head and studied me. I wondered if I was wrong. Perhaps he was a lion and I was the meal he"d been playing with before he went for my throat.

"Shift."

My body heeded his command. Because it wasn"t of my own free will, and because I was out of practice, the shift hurt. Four limbs collapsed as paws turned to fingers. My maw shortened into a broken nose, fur turned to soft flesh. I lay vulnerable on the forest floor, naked and shivering.

"I beg a quick death, your highness." My voice was barely a whisper, strained and filled with a short lifetime of doubt and hurt. Unused from years of neglect and solitude.

"I saw you. Inside my mind." The young prince pointed to his head. But those dark eyes looked through me.

Prince Dion was the son of the panther god. But the god of Arcadia, Pan, had lost his mind and trapped us all in his hell. Most in the realm were struggling with their sanity. Many in this world were caught in a partial shift. Stuck between human and animal, unable to transform fully into either. It was a disease known as the Call of the Wild.

I had heard that the prince was a seer, like his mother. But the Call must have finally caught hold of me to think the Panther Prince had a vision of a pitiful creature like me.

"Today isn"t the day you die."

Prince Dion"s words washed over me, stirring something deep within. My mother had turned her back on me, casting me out for a sin I couldn"t undo. Now here was the prince, seeing worth in me where I saw none.

I felt a shift within, a flicker of hope igniting in the darkness of my despair.

I felt the damp earth beneath me, the coolness seeping through my skin, grounding me. The sounds of the forest hushed in reverence to his words. I felt an overwhelming urge to dedicate myself to this man, this prince who saw value in a life I had deemed worthless.

For the prince to come out and save my life, it must mean my life would be worth something. Perhaps I was meant to play some part in Panthera"s future. Perhaps I was destined to be in service to the future king of my kind.

"What"s your name?"

"Oz, sire."

"Oz, I had a vision about you."

Here it came; my true grand purpose in life. The reason I'd run instead of letting my mother claw my heart out and bury me next to my brother. Any second now, the prince would announce the reason for my redemption from the ugliness that had cast a shadow over me since the day I was born.

"I had a vision we"d be hunting squirrels today."

Managing to get my feet under me, I locked my knees and stood. "Squirrels, your highness?"

"If we hurry, we might be able to bust into their nut stash." The force of the young prince"s laughter was so great that he bent over and slapped his knee. "Get it? Nut stash."

When I didn"t laugh, he cocked his head and looked at me. His gaze narrowed, as though assessing me anew.

"Get it?"

I pushed past the lump in my throat. "I get it."

His grin rematerialized. "Then let"s go."

And with that, the Prince of Panthers shifted and took off running. I stared after him, bewildered. Before he could toss me another of those assessing gazes, I shifted and raced after him. It was a job I"d be doing for the next twenty years.

Not just chasing after the prince, but also protecting his nut stash. But hey, there were worse things. I knew that firsthand.