Exhausting night. Rewarding, nonetheless. The ravine passage is within grasp. The way ancestors took to the Monastery within the mountain too. If the information Nazir collected is true, the last vial should be within the catacombs.
Blood of Silas. The first of the first. A wolf that transfigured into a Lycan. When he fell, the ancestors took his blood and sought out the monks within the mountains. Ones that had sealed away their wolves and swore to celibacy. To preserve the bloodline, they sealed three vials across Earth. One of them is on this continent. I will have it. I must. Gazing out the window of this rustic pack house, the fire outside was lit by my wolves. The corpses will turn to ash and return to the Earth. Where they belong. Sound of heavy footsteps briefly takes my attention from the burning dead. A slight tug at the bond makes Nazir’s presence known. “Will she run?” The necessary harshness has evaporated from me for now. My wolf, Valac, has settled. I can feel him sleeping within me. “No. I have two standing guard. The door and the window outside.” Nazir responds and I finally turn towards him. I give a grunt of approval. 'Sylvie.' The old Alpha Gideon said her name, yet she introduced herself differently. First in a long time to be so…calm in my presence. Nazir walked her in, unlike every other from this pack, and ones before them. At first glance, I thought she might be mute. Screams are familiar, silence is unnerving. When she gave her name, or what I presume is a nickname, it was like she played a bad note on a piano. It didn’t fit. Such a quiet, tiny voice, made my vision sharpen until I could see the skin beneath the ash and dust. Odd little thing, I could sense nothing from her. Fear, yes, but the rest is a blank page. No scent. No wolf. And yet those green eyes made Valac take a step back. As if she’d cast a spell, the only thing I felt him do was go strangely quiet. Nothing ever makes him go quiet. He’s always hungry for blood. And so am I.Yet I felt none towards her. Gideon saw it. I felt his fear shift when I questioned her. There was a change, subtle, but even the old Alpha picked up on it. Instead of the harsh words he’d said about her in the beginning, he told her to live. I wonder if she felt like she betrayed everything she knew. I had to get a closer look. Couldn’t read her. Couldn’t even smell if what she was saying was a lie. Her voice trembled but her eyes were steady. No matter how hard I pushed, to force her into submission, she didn’t feel a sliver of my power. “A runt. Usually they smell like rotten eggs.” Nazir notes and takes me away from my twisting thoughts. It seems that, he too, is confused about that runt’s presence. I saw the way he hesitated when she dropped to her knees. Like he wanted her to stand. I sensed it. 'Peculiar.' “An Omega?” I question and Nazir nods. “Only they could have such rusted genes. And no wolf.” He confirms. And yet she smells like nothing. Even without a wolf, the nature of our genes leaves traces in runts. It’s as though she isn’t a wolf at all. It irks me. Or perhaps it intrigues me. “She’ll do well as a pet.” The words leave me with a finality. Having a cup-girl won’t be bad, especially one that doesn’t make me want to tear her throat out. One that makes Valac…silent. If she learns and knows her place, she may survive. “Have her serve me food after she is done.” It’s a dismissal, and Nazir obeys it. I sit on the tiny sofa chair and lean back. Some shut-eye will do me good. Now that I have what I need, I can afford it. I close my eyes, enjoying the little peace after such a long time. My head is usually full of mine and Valac’s anger. The dark thoughts and the blood-thirst never stops. Rare moments like this I cherish. For it could always be my last. Even so, I cannot block out everything. Especially the sounds that carry through the walls. Specifically the certain pitter patter of feet right above this room. The running of water. The sigh that makes my breath leave me the same way. I can’t smell her. Can’t sense her. But I can hear her. The sounds are lulling me. I must be tired. Those green eyes are what my mind pictures, as the shallow waters of sleep take me.I could run. Jump out the window. The guard is standing pretty far away from it, talking to another wolf. I could time it. My ankle is burning. Every step feels like hot nails are being hammered into the bone. The attempt would end in failure. Plus, I have nowhere to go. I imagine all the packs before mine were already buried into the ground. What is left of them merged with the Salvalor pack or was sold into slavery. I’m lucky enough I’m still breathing. The dark skinned Lycan left me in a room with a connecting bathroom. I’m struggling with just taking off my shirt as I shuffle towards the bathtub. My ribs are definitely broken, every effort I make and breath I take makes me shudder in pain. As I reach the bathtub, I strip from the torn garments. Turning on the faucet, I sit on the edge and lift my left foot to it. Taking off the ripped piece of my pants from my ankle, I close my eyes when it tugs at the dried blood over the gash. The blood had dried and created a crust with the fab
Rushing of footsteps, banging of doors and loud voices followed by howls are what wakes me. My eyes open heavily, panic springing me to my feet as I realize I fell asleep in this tiny storage room. I quickly check myself, before exiting. The sight is what the sound portrays; wolves scuttling around as they bring in fresh kills and pack them up, some waking from their easily disturbed slumber, others already waiting to get a move on. The Tyrant did say we would move at dawn. By the looks of it, time draws near. So I go back to the room, where I had changed my clothes, to find some better ones for the trip.As I pack, I think of everything that’s happened. Everything that will happen. I’m leaving my home. Ruined, desecrated, my pack murdered by the one I now serve. Whether it’s luck that’s dancing on my side, or the fact that I lacked loyalty, either way the tide has turned in my favor. There’s no use in dwelling on it.Or so I tell myself.Strapping up the bag that I found, my hands pa
Fire and smoke. Ringing in my ears. The rubble of the house pressing down onto my legs, dust and smoke suffocating the air and my lungs. I'm dizzy, my vision not focusing. It was all sudden. First thing I heard was the bell from the pastor, swinging it wildly as he ran through the village like a madman. Yelling 'attack' and 'run', rest of his words mumbled by his unstable breathing. Passing wolves froze, the family I was cleaning for growing silent, shocked that the respected pastor, persona all went to for some security and confession, would be spilling such words. I had only looked out the kitchen window, when a propelled boulder fell from the sky. Pastor’s last, squealed word was 'Salvalor' before he was crushed by it. Panic struck fast, my feet moving towards the living room from the kitchen, the family I was cleaning for still there. A blast through the roof reeled me back, another boulder crashing through from the sky. I was on the floor as the ceiling collapsed, losing consc
Stories began ages ago, when the Great Lycan King still ruled all packs. When his hand brought unity between the shifters, the wolves and lycanthropes lived in tolerance of each other. Salvalor always had a shady reputation, their popularity amongst other packs was dead and buried for the cruel ways enforced and the brutality they brought with them. Always the root of trouble, but the sharpest spear of the Kingdom. It wasn’t a secret, that back then, the Alpha of Salvalor wanted the Throne. But he couldn’t even begin to fill the shoes of the Lycan King. Until all hell broke loose. Details are unclear and most of those who had survived the purge died quickly afterwards. Those that didn't chose not to talk about it, hence the gaping hole in history. The purge brought Lycans to extinction, and external forces succeeded in the coup. The King’s head hung on the castle gates until it rotted and melted away, and what became of his lineage no one knows. The first that ran was Salvalor, with
Rushing of footsteps, banging of doors and loud voices followed by howls are what wakes me. My eyes open heavily, panic springing me to my feet as I realize I fell asleep in this tiny storage room. I quickly check myself, before exiting. The sight is what the sound portrays; wolves scuttling around as they bring in fresh kills and pack them up, some waking from their easily disturbed slumber, others already waiting to get a move on. The Tyrant did say we would move at dawn. By the looks of it, time draws near. So I go back to the room, where I had changed my clothes, to find some better ones for the trip.As I pack, I think of everything that’s happened. Everything that will happen. I’m leaving my home. Ruined, desecrated, my pack murdered by the one I now serve. Whether it’s luck that’s dancing on my side, or the fact that I lacked loyalty, either way the tide has turned in my favor. There’s no use in dwelling on it.Or so I tell myself.Strapping up the bag that I found, my hands pa
I could run. Jump out the window. The guard is standing pretty far away from it, talking to another wolf. I could time it. My ankle is burning. Every step feels like hot nails are being hammered into the bone. The attempt would end in failure. Plus, I have nowhere to go. I imagine all the packs before mine were already buried into the ground. What is left of them merged with the Salvalor pack or was sold into slavery. I’m lucky enough I’m still breathing. The dark skinned Lycan left me in a room with a connecting bathroom. I’m struggling with just taking off my shirt as I shuffle towards the bathtub. My ribs are definitely broken, every effort I make and breath I take makes me shudder in pain. As I reach the bathtub, I strip from the torn garments. Turning on the faucet, I sit on the edge and lift my left foot to it. Taking off the ripped piece of my pants from my ankle, I close my eyes when it tugs at the dried blood over the gash. The blood had dried and created a crust with the fab
Exhausting night. Rewarding, nonetheless. The ravine passage is within grasp. The way ancestors took to the Monastery within the mountain too. If the information Nazir collected is true, the last vial should be within the catacombs. Blood of Silas. The first of the first. A wolf that transfigured into a Lycan. When he fell, the ancestors took his blood and sought out the monks within the mountains. Ones that had sealed away their wolves and swore to celibacy. To preserve the bloodline, they sealed three vials across Earth. One of them is on this continent. I will have it. I must. Gazing out the window of this rustic pack house, the fire outside was lit by my wolves. The corpses will turn to ash and return to the Earth. Where they belong. Sound of heavy footsteps briefly takes my attention from the burning dead. A slight tug at the bond makes Nazir’s presence known. “Will she run?” The necessary harshness has evaporated from me for now. My wolf, Valac, has settled. I can feel him s
Stories began ages ago, when the Great Lycan King still ruled all packs. When his hand brought unity between the shifters, the wolves and lycanthropes lived in tolerance of each other. Salvalor always had a shady reputation, their popularity amongst other packs was dead and buried for the cruel ways enforced and the brutality they brought with them. Always the root of trouble, but the sharpest spear of the Kingdom. It wasn’t a secret, that back then, the Alpha of Salvalor wanted the Throne. But he couldn’t even begin to fill the shoes of the Lycan King. Until all hell broke loose. Details are unclear and most of those who had survived the purge died quickly afterwards. Those that didn't chose not to talk about it, hence the gaping hole in history. The purge brought Lycans to extinction, and external forces succeeded in the coup. The King’s head hung on the castle gates until it rotted and melted away, and what became of his lineage no one knows. The first that ran was Salvalor, with
Fire and smoke. Ringing in my ears. The rubble of the house pressing down onto my legs, dust and smoke suffocating the air and my lungs. I'm dizzy, my vision not focusing. It was all sudden. First thing I heard was the bell from the pastor, swinging it wildly as he ran through the village like a madman. Yelling 'attack' and 'run', rest of his words mumbled by his unstable breathing. Passing wolves froze, the family I was cleaning for growing silent, shocked that the respected pastor, persona all went to for some security and confession, would be spilling such words. I had only looked out the kitchen window, when a propelled boulder fell from the sky. Pastor’s last, squealed word was 'Salvalor' before he was crushed by it. Panic struck fast, my feet moving towards the living room from the kitchen, the family I was cleaning for still there. A blast through the roof reeled me back, another boulder crashing through from the sky. I was on the floor as the ceiling collapsed, losing consc