Page 1 of Shapeshifter's Vengeance

Prologue: New Beginning.

Person Unknown

I sit in the crowded terminal, waiting for my flight to Harmony Grove. The airport buzzes with different conversations and the occasional announcement over the intercom. I glance at the clock; there's still half an hour until boarding. My fingers drum on the armrest of my chair, a small, steady rhythm to keep my attention.

I distract myself from dwelling on whether I am doing the right thing by going back there after so many years.

"Excuse me, Miss, is this seat taken?" a voice asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I look up to see a middle-aged man gesturing to the empty seat beside me. I shake my head.

"No, please go ahead."

"Thanks," he says, settling in with a grateful smile.

We lapse into a comfortable silence. I find myself staring at the large window overlooking the runway. Somehow, I still feel a little guilty about leaving back then, and now I have no idea if it will still be home to me.

"First time flying to Harmony Grove?" the man asks after a moment.

I turn to him, surprised. "No, actually. I used to live there."

"Ah, visiting family, then?"

I nod, not really in the mood for conversation. He seems to sense this and changes the subject to the weather. I appreciate the small talk; it distracts me from the swirling thoughts in my head.

Finally, the boarding call comes. I gather my things, and we file into the plane. My seat is by the window, and I watch as the ground crew scurries around below us. The flight is smooth. I don't bother with the in-flight movies or music; instead, I close my eyes and try to remember Harmony Grove.

It's been so long. Way too long.

When the plane touches down, I feel a rush of anticipation. The seatbelt sign goes off. I unbuckle and stand, eager to get moving. The terminal in Harmony Grove is small and quiet. As I step off the plane and into the terminal, a sense of familiarity washes over me. I can't stop the smile that stretches my lips as I take my first breath of Harmony Grove’s air.

This place is still home for me, at least.

Outside, the air is warm, a welcome contrast to the sterile chill of the airplane. I spot a taxi waiting in the queue and head over.

"Need a ride, Miss?" the driver asks, leaning out the window.

"Yes, please," I say, handing him the hotel's address. "To the Elmwood Hotel."

"Sure thing," he nods, loading my suitcase into the trunk.

The drive through Harmony Grove is surreal. So much looks the same, yet different. New shops have sprung up, but the old landmarks remain. I wonder if the supernatural side is still the same as in the old times; stories have been flying around about the Mayor's changes.

Ah, the Mayor.

"Here we are, the Elmwood Hotel," my cab driver announces as the car approaches a charming, luxurious building.

I thanked him, paid the fare, and made sure to tip him generously before heading inside. On approaching the front desk, I hear someone call out to me.

"Welcome to Elmwood. How can I help you?" the receptionist asks with a warm smile.

"I have a reservation," I say, giving her my name.

"Yes, we've been expecting you," she says, checking her computer. "Here's your key. Room 305, third floor."

"Thank you," I reply, taking the key.

It feels good to be back home.

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