Chapter 2

Cairns, Australia.

Winter, 1801.

LAN FARROW

"Look at me when I talk to you, boy!" 

In spite of himself, thirteen year old Lan jerked at the harsh sound of his father's voice, his hand going to the gold ring on his finger that was given to him by his beloved mother. He fiddled with it nervously.

"You're growing into a man and as such should know what it entails to be one. Ever killed a game before? Ever tasted the fruits of a maiden?"

Lan shook his head, his heart starting to race at the unbalanced look in his sire's eyes. He knew his mother would've sought to avoid this. Leaving him in the same room as his turbulent father.

"Well, today you will. Today, my son, you kill an infidel."

Lan's blood ran cold. Witches were termed infidels, and killing one of the tricksy creatures would earn you an elevated position in the keep. 

Lan knew killing one was inevitable, only that he'd thought he wouldn't have to until he was much more older.

His father's blue eyes flashed a feral yellow, revealing his beast, and he leaned forward until his greying beards touched the surface of the oak table he sat behind. He enquired in a low, threatening voice. "Is that fear I see in your eyes, boy?"

Jerkily, Lan shook his head. "N-no, father."

His sire bared his teeth, exposing lengthening canines. "Good. This kingdom doesn't need someone weak, and I'll be damned if I have a bloody chit for a son."

He straightened and called to one of the guards beyond the library's giant doors, "Bring her in!"

Hands turning the ring on his finger anxiously, Lan turned in dread. His heart jumped into his throat when the doors were flung open. Two large lycan warriors came in dragging a witch who was kicking and screaming.

Stomach churning in dread, he watched the brunette struggle, blood slinking down the bruises on her arms that opened wider with each savage twist of her body. 

Lan faced his sire again, quaking down to his brown leather boots. 

He swallowed when the piercing blue gaze of his father met his. Once the witch was forced down to her knees, the older man gave a barely perceptible nod of his head, urging him onward.

Lan took an uncertain step forward.

The witch eyed him narrowly, through bloodshot eyes. Her face and hair were caked with a substance Lan could only hope was mud. Her mouth was bound, stuffed with an old cloth.

His father's voice was a commanding baritone. "Shift."

Heart pounding in his chest, Lan started to do just that. Thin manes of black fur sprang out his skin, his muscles expanding, bones cracking and lengthening into something tall, animalistic and outright frightening. 

Half-boy, half-beast.

Something akin to pride shone in his sire's eyes. This was the only aspect of him his father commended. His stature. He was bigger than most lycans his age, and so much broader. And this only went on to make him feel especially awkward and out of place amongst his age group.

At the sight of his beast, fear widened the witch's eyes and she backed into the very bodyguards that held her hostage. 

On instinct, he reached out to assure her he meant no harm, but checked his movements immediately, fisting his palms so his black claws dug into his skin.

His sire appraised him with a gleam in his eyes, muttering, "Good, good. Wouldn't have any difficulties with the fairer sex." Then his demeanor fell, turning dark. "Do it, Lan. Kill the enemy of your people."

Shivers slithered down Lan's spine and he started to shake, his breaths quickening.

His father's eyes went yellow with his own beast. He roared, "Do it, Lan!"

The witch's desperate eyes met his, and Lan caught himself when he started to back away, sweat trickling down his temples.

He wanted to tell his sire that the magical creatures meant no harm. He wanted to scream to his sire that he knew the reason behind his dislike of them. Because they were different. Because of the power they wielded.

He also wanted to tell his father that it didn't always have to end in bloodshed. They could talk it out with the witches, come to an agreement of sorts. He turned to face his sire, and his breath hitched at the fury in his gaze.

"Lan," came his deathly voice. "You would betray your people like this? Spare the ones who mean them harm?"

Lan shook his head, at loss for words. "F-father, I--"

"I said kill the witch, Lan! Dig your claws into her chest and rip out her heart--"

"No!" Lan screamed, wanting so badly to go back into the safety of his mother's arms, to feel her soothingly comb out the tangles in his hair as he sat before his dresser, telling her how his day went.

The air stiffened and his father's eyes shone yellow. Then his visage half shifted into that of his beast, the planes of his face sharpening, his eye sockets growing hollow. He asked slowly, "What...did you just say, Lan?"

Lan had started to shiver so much his teeth chattered against each other. "N-no. I s-said n--"

A loud roar tore out his father and he lifted his heavy oak table in one hand like it weighed nothing, then threw it across the room. It shattered into little planks and splinters. The sound grated on Lan's ears, heightening his anxiety to an alarming level.

The witch watched on, shock stark in her gaze.

Lan stumbled away when his huge sire stalked him. Then he took a swing at him. Pain exploded across the side of his face and Lan crumbled down to the floor.

"You runt," spat his sire. "I should do away with you."

Crouching, Lan cradled his jaw, trying to stay his tears. He felt his father's boot forcefully dig into his side and cried out, folding into himself.

"Maybe I'll let Aron h--"

His sire's speech was interrupted by the library doors flinging open. In walked a lycan elder. His white robe swept the gleaming floors as he approached them.

The old elder's voice came out in a horrified rush. "Your Highness, there's been an attack at Gornagon."

All pain seemed to flee Lan, getting replaced by a sickly feeling. Gornagon was their main seat, the castle of the lycans. No one could ever manage to launch an attack on it. To do that, they'd have to get through the ferocious beasts first.

And another thing that bothered Lan? His mam was at Gornagon. They'd left Chicago for Australia immediately winter had arrived, leaving the castle to the protection of a few warriors.

"What do you mean?" his father asked, turning to fully face the elder.

The elder's gaze flitted to Lan and an apprehensive look filled them. Lan knew that look; he was debating whether or not to divulge royal information in front of him.

His father made the decision for him. "Out with it, Caesar."

Caesar swallowed. "The witches, t-they spread a disease that incapacitated the best of our warriors, and they broke in. Then they... They set the keep on fire."

Lan paled.

The elder quickly started to suggest the next order of action, "I could have the royal sorcerers aparate some men down to Gornagon. A--"

"I'll be coming with them," came his father's silent tone.

Caesar nodded. "Okay, I'll b--"

"And the boy as well."

Caesar turned his startled gaze to Lan's swelling face, then back to his sire. "Are you... certain, your Highness? He's still a bo--"

"A boy that is next in line for the crown." His harsh tone brokered no room for arguments. "It's high time he started getting a taste of what it means to rule. Come, we leave now."

Lan struggled to his feet, then followed behind his father as he marched down the huge, dark halls and over to the wing that housed the sorcerers.

They got to Gornagon in no time. 

Lan looked on in horror, staggered at the state of the keep. Smoke rose up the burnt ruins, bright embers shining in the dark. Warriors went around, extracting more and more lycans from the castle, both dead and alive.

Healers tended to the injured while the dead were carried down to a secluded part of the estate to be buried. His gaze frantically roved through the injured for the face of his mother. Dread churned at the pit of his stomach.

A strapping man approached them, and from his scent, Lan could tell he was a vampire. His father greeted the red-eyed man so cordially Lan could only think they were friends.

"King Dmitri, I'm glad you're here."

The vampire, Dmitri, nodded, solemn-eyed. "As fate would have it, I came down here for a visit and arrived the exact moment those cowardly witches were setting the castle on fire. I had my men war against them, but apparently, we weren't proof against their magic."

His father started to say something but paused when a tall healer approached him.

In a quiet voice, she told him, "If you'd follow me, your Highness."

They trailed behind the woman, rounding a row of courthouses, then they loped across the east gardens and came upon a lonely cottage.

Lan stared at the lovely cottage and felt a niggling suspicion creep up his back. He searched within himself for his mother's consciousness, finding only the faint thrum of her heartbeat. He swallowed, going into the cottage.

What awaited him in there was a horror that would forever remain etched in his memory.

His mother, bare of all her limbs, hanging on for her dear life.

On seeing him, his mother moved the stump of her arm, wanting to touch him. When she realized she couldn't, tears filled her forest green eyes, eyes so much like his.

His voice came out as a faint croak. "M-mother?"

"Lan," she whispered weakly. "Lan, my child--I love you. Beware...beware of them." 

With that, her body gradually grew lax, and then she... She was gone.

Even as he felt the painful tearing of her consciousness away from his, he stood there stiffly, unmoving. Numb. 

She had said to beware of the witches.

No...

The witches would beware of him.