TADEAS (Bringer of Doom) CH 1 - Change Forever (Patreon)

"Damiane." My sister's voice carries a sharp edge, a tone layered with both worry and irritation, as though the act of calling my name alone is enough to fray her patience. It is a tone I have grown accustomed to, one she has wielded since we were pups—ever since the weight of keeping me in line became her unwanted burden. Our mother, always the pragmatist, had entrusted her with my care, a task Callis had accepted with the same stoicism she approached everything. But beneath her composed exterior, I had always sensed the strain.

"Yes, Callis?" I reply, her name rolling off my tongue with a touch of teasing, the kind of mischief I know will press all the right buttons. A soft smile tugs at my lips, one I do not bother to conceal. I remain as I am, standing motionless in the open glade, my eyes gently shut, my face tilted toward the sky. One hand is raised, fingers parted to let the cool wind slip between them, its invisible touch tracing delicate paths along my skin. It is a rare moment of serenity, one I am reluctant to abandon for the sake of decorum.

"They shall arrive here very soon," she hisses, her words sharp as the snapping of a twig underfoot. "Must you stand there so utterly uncovered? Cover your hair now!"My eyes flutter open at her insistence, and I glance over my shoulder to find her arms crossed tightly against her chest, her brow furrowed in exasperation. Callis has always carried herself with a sense of duty that borders on suffocating. She cannot help it—it is simply who she is, the keeper of rules, the sentinel of appearances. And me? I have always been the thorn in her perfectly cultivated garden.

"You are quite the worrier, sister. Rules are not always meant to be followed. Surely, you know this by now." My words escape my lips with a deliberate lightness, their tone crafted to toy with her already frayed nerves. A soft chuckle follows, the sound barely disturbing the tranquil stillness of the glade. I know it will irritate her further—it always does—but I cannot help myself. It has always been like this between us: Callis, the ever-vigilant sentinel, burdened with the weight of keeping me in line, and me, the one who dances on the edge of defiance, testing how far I can go before she breaks.

Her breath catches sharply, a subtle inhale through her nose, as though she is physically restraining herself from snapping back. Her arms fall rigid at her sides, fists clenching and unclenching as she struggles to temper her irritation. But when she finally speaks, her voice is not filled with anger as I expect. Instead, it is laced with something far heavier, something that coils in the air between us and sends an unbidden shiver down my spine.

"You know who is arriving, yes?" she says, stepping closer, her tone hushed and trembling just enough to betray the depth of her unease. "They are not ordinary wolves like you or me, Damiane. This is not a game. Do not play with your life."

Her words, quiet though they are, settle over me like a cold mist. There is no mistaking the fear in her voice, the way it clings to her every syllable. Callis is not one to frighten easily. She has faced dangers I have never known, shouldered burdens that would have crushed others. To hear fear from her lips is unsettling in a way I cannot quite place, and it pulls the smile from my face as surely as if she had reached out and wiped it away herself.

For a moment, I hesitate. My hand, still raised to the sky, lingers midair as though suspended between two worlds: the one I yearn for and the one I cannot escape. The wind, soft and cool, brushes against my fingertips in one final caress before I lower my arm. The movement is slow, reluctant, as though I am saying farewell to the fleeting sense of freedom it had given me. I close my eyes, frustration curling in my chest, its heat growing with every beat of my heart.

It is the first time my parents have permitted me to partake in the trade—a rare concession, given their relentless desire to shield me from the world beyond our lands. For years, I have watched others come and go, their lives unfolding beyond the borders that cage me. I have imagined what it would feel like to step beyond, to breathe air untainted by the constant watchful eyes of my family. And now, when I am finally allowed a glimpse, it comes wrapped in chains of caution and shadowed by my sister's warnings.

Why must it be so hard for me to just... breathe?

Callis remains close, her unwavering gaze pinned on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. There is a weight in her expression—a mix of fear, duty, and love, tempered by an exhaustion she does not bother to mask. It is a look I know too well, one that has often left me feeling as though I am both her greatest burden and her deepest concern. It twists a knife of guilt into my chest, sharp but familiar. I know her intentions are noble. I know she bears responsibilities that were never hers to carry. But knowing does not make it easier to listen.

"Very well, I shall cover my face now," I murmur, the words low and soft, tinged with a resignation I do not entirely feel. My fingers move to the delicate veil hanging loosely around my shoulders, hooking into its edges and drawing it upward with practiced care. The fabric folds into place, falling to obscure my hair and most of my face, leaving only my eyes visible—a faint glimmer of defiance peeking out from beneath the shroud.

I glance once more toward the vast sea stretched out before me, a living expanse of ever-shifting blues and greens. There is a change in the air, subtle but palpable, a current of energy that brushes against my skin like a silent warning. The waves move differently now, their rhythm faltering as though disturbed by something unseen. In the distance, the birds—once scattered across the sky in graceful arcs—screech in disarray, their wings beating furiously as they veer away from the waters. Even the fish, I can sense them beneath the surface, darting away from the place where they first arrived.

I linger there for a moment, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The cool, salt-laden breeze fills my lungs as I inhale deeply, willing the air to calm the restless hum beneath my skin. There is a part of me—a stubborn, quiet part—that yearns to remain here, rooted in this fleeting moment of serenity, untouched by what is to come.

But the world does not wait. It never does.

With a final, reluctant glance at the sea, I turn and shuffle back to where Callis crouches by the tiny shop we have set up—a simple structure of wood and canvas that holds the fruits of our labor. She moves with a purpose that seems almost frantic, her hands deftly rearranging the ornaments and goods we have prepared for the trade. Medicines, rare herbs, flowers of a kind found only in our lands—all carefully selected, meticulously arranged. Each item is a testament to the skills and specialties of our pack, crafted with the precision and care that Callis insists upon.

"They are merely a couple of minutes away," I whisper, my voice barely rising above the gentle hum of the waves. My fingers hover over the ornaments before me, brushing lightly against the intricate designs etched into each piece. Hair clips adorned with delicate filigree, body jewelry shaped from twists of silver and shards of polished glass, anklets strung with tiny bells that sing softly with movement, and waist chains as light as air but strong enough to endure. Each one holds a fragment of our craft, our history, a reflection of the life we have built—bound to the land and the traditions we carry with us, unbroken even through time's cruel erosion.

I arrange them carefully on the wooden display, angling each ornament so the sunlight catches the subtle gleam of the metal and glass. The sea breeze plays with the edges of the cloth covering our stall, tugging gently at its corners, but my focus remains unbroken. These are more than wares; they are offerings. Symbols of who we are and what we create.

As I move to place another piece on the stand, I glance at Callis. She stands just beside me, her hands occupied with arranging bundles of herbs and woven baskets filled with dried petals, but there is an unmistakable rigidity in her frame. Her movements are deliberate, but I can see the subtle tremor in her fingertips when they pause a fraction too long on the rim of a basket. She does not look at me, but I feel the tension emanating from her—a quiet unease that clings to her like a second skin.

I turn my gaze outward, past our modest stall, to the market unfolding across the warm sands. Wolves from distant lands have gathered, their stalls scattered across the shoreline in a vibrant tapestry of color and sound. The air thrums with life, a symphony of voices rising and falling in conversation, laughter ringing out in bright bursts. The scent of spices drifts on the breeze, mingling with the aroma of sizzling meats cooking over open flames and the delicate sweetness of honeyed pastries.

Beyond the scent of food, another layer weaves its way through the air—the sharp tang of fresh-cut herbs, the earthy musk of dried flowers, and the faint, tantalizing trace of perfumes crafted from rare and exotic blooms. Vendors call out their wares, their voices rich with pride as they gesture to the treasures laid before them.

Nearby, a merchant unfurls a roll of finely woven fabric, its surface shimmering with dyes of deep emerald and royal sapphire. Another stall showcases crystalline bottles of perfume, each catching the light like liquid stars. The scents are intoxicating—wild jasmine, amber resin, and a hint of something rare, almost otherworldly. I watch as a wolf carefully lifts a bottle, inhaling its contents with reverence, before handing over a pouch heavy with coin.

To my left, a blacksmith displays an array of polished blades, their steel edges gleaming in the sunlight. Beside them, smaller items glint: intricate pendants, rings engraved with runes, and chalices so finely wrought they seem fit for kings. Not far from him, an apothecary has laid out bundles of dried herbs, jars of tinctures, and salves in clay pots, each promising to heal or soothe some ailment.

A stall further down catches my eye—its shelves lined with talismans and charms carved from bone and stone. The vendor, an elderly wolf with fur the color of frost, mutters incantations under his breath as he arranges his wares. Amulets to ward off ill fortune, pendulums that glimmer with faintly glowing runes, and small idols crafted with uncanny precision line his table, each exuding a faint aura that seems to hum in the air.

And yet, amidst the lively chatter, the bursts of laughter, and the kaleidoscope of goods, I feel it—the subtle shift that ripples beneath the surface. A stillness, creeping slowly, wrapping itself around the edges of the market. It is faint, almost imperceptible, but it is there.

I glance over my shoulder, past the bustling stalls and the gathering wolves, toward the sea. The waves have begun to change, their rhythm faltering as though disturbed by something unseen. The sound of the water lapping against the shore is softer now, almost hesitant, and the seabirds that had circled above have fled, their cries fading into the distance.

"They are here," Callis murmurs, her voice so quiet it could be mistaken for the wind. Her eyes remain fixed on the horizon, her hands frozen mid-motion as the tension in her body sharpens into something almost tangible.

I tighten my grip on the edge of the stall, my fingers curling around the smooth wood. The breeze carries a new scent now, faint but undeniable, threading its way through the familiar aromas of the market. It is sharp, earthy, and laced with something unfamiliar—something that sends a chill cascading down my spine.

My gaze follows hers, locking onto the edge of the forest where the treeline meets the sand. Shadows move there, shifting and stretching like restless phantoms, their forms barely discernible against the dappled light. My breath catches, the air around me suddenly feeling heavier, as though the world itself holds its breath in anticipation.

The chatter of the market softens, voices faltering as wolves pause in their tasks, their heads turning toward the source of the unease. The once-lively energy of the gathering dims, replaced by a quiet tension that seems to hum beneath the surface of every movement, every glance.

Callis turns to me, her face pale but composed, her voice a whisper that barely cuts through the thickening stillness. "Whatever happens, Damiane... just stay silent."

I do not reply. There is no need to. The moment we have been waiting for has arrived, and the world around us seems to shift, irreversibly, as the shadows begin to take shape.

The first glimpse of the ship comes like a phantom through the mist—a dark silhouette against the shimmering horizon, its form impossibly large and almost otherworldly. The sound of the waves falters, as though the sea itself has bent to the weight of its presence. Slowly, it emerges, the sleek hull cutting through the water with a commanding grace, its dark wood glistening like obsidian beneath the sun's rays. The sails billow high above, immense sheets of fabric as black as a starless night, embroidered with silver threads that shimmer like the veins of the moon herself.

The market falls silent.

Not a whisper, not a breath. The air grows thick, heavy, as if every wolf gathered on the sands has instinctively understood what approaches. Even the sea, vast and eternal, seems subdued under the weight of this vessel, the waves pulling back as though in reverence or fear. The ship moves closer, its towering masts casting long shadows that stretch across the shore, swallowing the warmth of the sun.

I cannot move. My body stiffens, every instinct within me freezing as though I am prey caught in the gaze of a predator far greater than I can comprehend. The sheer power radiating from the ship is unlike anything I have ever encountered—it is not merely the sight of it, but the presence it exudes. It is overwhelming, suffocating, and impossibly vast, a force that crawls beneath my skin and settles in my very bones.

For the first time in my life, I feel it—submission. Pure and uncontrollable, a primal reaction that surges through me like wildfire. It is not a choice, not something I can resist or fight. My legs tremble, the strength in them faltering as though they can no longer bear the weight of my own body. My head bows slightly, unbidden, as though the force emanating from the ship has reached inside me and torn away my will. Even my heartbeat slows, each pulse heavy and deliberate, as though in rhythm with the ship's measured approach.

I glance at Callis from the corner of my eye, hoping for some semblance of reassurance, but she is just as still as I am. Her jaw is tight, her eyes wide and unblinking as they remain locked on the approaching vessel. Her usual composure has cracked, the tension in her body radiating like an exposed nerve. It is then I understand—this is not an effect unique to me. Every wolf here feels it. I see it in their postures, their lowered heads, the subtle shifting of their bodies as the weight of submission forces them to yield. The powerful aura of the ship demands nothing less.

Closer now, the ship looms like a living creature, its hull adorned with intricate carvings that seem to shift and shimmer in the light. The designs are unfamiliar, angular and fluid all at once, as though they hold meaning beyond what mortal eyes can perceive. I feel the power radiating from them, humming in the air like an unspoken warning. The prow of the ship cuts through the water with deliberate precision, and as it nears the shore, I catch sight of figures aboard its deck—shadowed forms that move with an air of authority, their outlines sharp and commanding.

My breath catches in my throat, the air suddenly too thick, too charged for me to draw in fully. My hands clench at my sides, the veil around my face shifting with the shallow rise and fall of my chest. Every nerve in my body feels alive, raw and exposed, as though the sheer presence of the ship has awakened something dormant within me. It is terrifying and exhilarating all at once, this uncontrollable reaction that binds my body to submission even as my mind rebels.

The ship slows, the creak of its massive frame reverberating through the stillness. My knees weaken further, and I have to steady myself against the edge of the stall, the cool wood grounding me just enough to keep me from collapsing entirely. My head dips lower, my chin brushing against the fabric of my veil. I want to resist—I want to lift my head, to stand tall and defiant, but the power coursing through the air is too much. It bears down on me, crushing and inescapable, until there is nothing left but the primal instinct to yield.

And then, as if in response to the collective silence, a single sound rises from the ship—a deep, resonant horn that cuts through the air like a blade. It echoes across the sands, vibrating through the earth beneath my feet, and I feel it in my chest, a low rumble that settles in my heart and refuses to let go.

This is no ordinary ship. This is no ordinary arrival. Whatever power it carries, whatever force drives it forward, it is something far beyond anything I have ever known. And as I stand there, trembling and silent, my eyes locked on its immense form, one thought burns bright in the back of my mind:

The world I have known is about to change forever.

~~

A/N

Hello my little wolves,

Here is the official Chapter 1 of TADEAS.

Our female protagonist’s name is Damiane.

Pronunciation: (DAH-mee-ah-nay)

Meaning: “Subduer” or “one who “tames”. A name with strength and the power to overcome trials.

I am so thrilled to write this book I genuinely have been wanting to commence this book for over a year now. I really hope you all enjoyed this chappy and are looking forward to the next x

I think you all will be quite surprised reading the next Chappy, as it will showcase the truth as to why this story will be different from the other three.

I will now work on updating the next chappy of CRONUS 🐺

I apologise if the updates are a little slow my females, I am not really doing that well. I think one of the things I aspire to be this year is to be open with you all in terms of what is going on in my life. Here’s a list for you all:

1. My two year relationship with my first love has come to an end and my grieving has commenced. It is my first heartbreak and he was my best friend I am not sure how I am meant to do life without him.

2. I am shoving all of my belongings in cardboard boxes and moving from the place we lived together all of 2024 into a different apartment by the end of next week, to be by myself in a city where I only know him.

3. I was let go at my job and am looking for a new one to commence asap so I can pay my bills.

So many changes in my life happened all in such a short period of time during Christmas and I am attempting to make peace with it all. But at the end of the day writing pacifies my soul and I do not wish for my emotions or my hardships to affect my works in any way or form. I just wanted to say I LOVE YOU ALL very very much and you all are what keeps me going. My heart is yours ♥️ so thank you so much for being with me on this journey and for your unconditional love and support. I genuinely appreciate it from the bottom of my soul.

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Happy reading my females,

LL