Aralyn Leto and her mother Larissa, are running across Soovaree, a mystic supernatural realm, to escape Malleteagan, Aralyn’s father and Larissa’s destined mate. At tender age of 13, Aralyn witnessed Malleteagan killing Larissa in a cold-blooded murder. Taking her last breaths, Larissa made Aralyn promise to continue to live and fight. Brokenhearted yet determined to keep her promise, Aralyn continues running away from Malleteagan. Blinded by the hatred, Malleteagan (Aeolian Warlock’s Royalty, the Lycan King and son of Moon Goddess) believes that Aralyn’s death is needed to break the Moonlight curse cast upon him by the God of War. Left with no choice, Aralyn finally escapes from Malleteagan to Wengarthria (the supernatural hell of Soovaree). In Wengarthria, Aralyn enters Oribus, the first of nine levels of hell. In Oribus Aralyn meets Sentaya, enigmatic Oribian ruler and gatekeeper of Wengarthria. Sentaya offers a hideout to Aralyn, who agrees to work for Sentaya in exchange. About five years later, Malleteagan discovers Aralyn’s hideout in Oribus and attacks Sentaya when she refuses to handover Aralyn, only to lose the battle. However, Aralyn’s relief to hear about Malleteagan’s battle loss and retreat from Oribus is short-lived. Upon the battle end, Aralyn’s hideout was discovered by Marcellus Riggs, the illegitimate son of Hades. As commanded by his father, Hades, Marcellus, the seasoned army commander and heir apparent to Wengarthrian throne, led the army to Oribus to collect the souls of Malleteagan’s fallen Lycan soldiers. When he discovers Aralyn. Marcellus is annoyed to discover that she is his destined mate. Due to personal vendetta, Marcellus abducts Aralyn and imprisons her in dungeons of the last circle of Wengarthria with a plan to destroy Aralyn and get revenge. Will he manage to get going with his plans?
View MoreKandreah’s POV While standing helplessly in front of the Macabantran gates, I went through all the stages of grief in the blink of an eye. I went through denial when I managed to work through my pain and drag myself while being pain-stricken with Thersar’s torment in front of the Macabantran gate. I was appalled with horror in front of my eyes. As Thersar’s demise-ridden pain wrecked through every nerve of my body, I watched his last moments with disbelief. Just when I thought that this was the final blow, which would be my undoing, the closeness of my soldiers who died in the battle started to shatter my body inside out, gnawing at my mind and soul. The death of every single soldier in my army was a new blow to my already broken body and heart. After initial shock, denial and disbelief, uncontrollable rage erupted from me. I screamed and tried many ways to break in and barge into the castle, but nothing worked. Even what it meant to be an attention-seeking roar of rage came
Kandreah’s POV We were passing through this infamous shortcut, which was more like a sewage-like labyrinth if you ask me, when I bent over and stumbled with an unwilling groan before I fell on my knees and stubbed my hands into the dirt and mud of Wengarthria. I felt so weak and dizzy, as if I was just seconds away from collapsing. The high-pitched, blaring sound grated through my ears, threatening to split my head in half. It reminded me of the ringing of life-supporting machines when someone dies, but as if someone put amplifiers on them. Beads of sweat protruded along with searing pain, the ache like no other which surged through me, piercing and rippling through my body. Every drop of blood in my body felt like it was scorching, sizzling, and as if it was about to combust in flames before turning to ashes. The agony was unbearable. It felt like I was dying. Only once before, I felt the pain like this, when I lost my soulmate. Regardless of the severed bond between
Erzelus’s POV But it looked like someone in the background had greater control over the forsaken Lycans than I did because drums rattled again in the next moment, along with a command rumbling to forsaken Lycans to attack. It overpowered and overrode the natural inclination of forsaken Lycans to submit to their Alpha. I am not their Alpha anymore. They do not answer to me anymore. They are not part of our pack anymore, and if there was even a smidgen of doubt in their logic, reasoning and where their loyalty now lies, it all became clear when they started attacking Lycan troops. My Lycans were over-excited with my comeback, and this idling is not something we can afford. This can cost us battles and lives; we have no time for this. Because, on the other side of the castle, dwarves, Fae, and witches were still in the ruckus of the battle against Wengarthrians. I stepped in while handholding Lev and roared: “Drop the fucking formalities! Lycans, regroup! Flank the Allies! Shield the
Erzelus’s POV The interior of the encampment was a vast, oval-shaped, dark and massive hall the size of a coliseum. Instead of walls, the encampment was enclosed with grand window-like structures, which seemed impenetrable. These window-like walls didn’t allow even a figment of light to protrude. Each window was adorned with vile and despicable frescoes depicting the destruction, apocalyptic violence and scenes from the underworld. In every corner of this eerie city-sized castle, there seemed to be an attempt at creating a macabre amphitheatre. It was as if a disturbed and malevolent architect had deliberately sought to challenge, mock, distort, and contrast every conventional thought, philosophy, aesthetic, and norms in rational thought, art, architecture, and culture, transforming them into something dark, ominous, and bizarre. This colossal castle seemed like an erratic response of a sinister rebel in architecture, a hub for defying the traditional building. Every corn
Erzelus’s POV Mark's contorted body serves as a testament to his tragic death and grim fate, symbolising just one of too many lives that have been and will continue to be lost in this relentless battle. The weight of lives lost became heavier as I scanned through limbless, scavenged, deformed and mutilated remnants of warriors from both sides, which hung from the ceilings. The cadavers blanketed the grotesque frescoes and icons of the Macabantran encampment. Bodies were strewn everywhere, suspended from ceilings and windows, littering the ground— that is the grave extent of casualties that this battle yielded. And many more are to yet die before the battle finishes. The windows were sprayed with blood and innards of diverse creatures who lost their lives, looking like someone had a paintball battle with leftovers of burnt shepherd pie. Corpses and bodies of soldiers from every walk of life were flailing across the Macabantran fort; mush and gore were everywhere, littering th
Erzelus’s POV The racketing pounds of the gatekeeper demon’s drums became faster with each second. When we finally stepped into the gloom and darkness of the main encampment of Macabantran fortress, the grounds were soaked with a soggy mush of supernatural innards and well stocked with their scattered corpses. Bones of cadavers were cracking as we crushed them on our way. Their flesh was squelching and producing squealing sounds under our feet as we trampled over them. A chaotic blend of whooshing sounds of magic, which was bursting from Wengarthrian mages, clashed with the magic of our witches and mixed with clanks of weapons, and rumbling thuds of fistfights, death rattles, and last exhales of those warriors who were losing the battle. Manic cackles of Wengarthrians who were attacking and fighting from every corner were adding to the clamour and havoc of this place. Macabantrans drubbed our warriors because they failed to see Macabantrans's fighting tactics. Macabantrans
Erzelus’s POV We crept and crawled like sodding spiders through these long-forgotten, dusty, stinky, dirty passageways. The stench of dampness and decay was making my eyes bleed. Being a big bad wolf and a burly bloke trying to squeeze myself into these was a job and a half and now even a greater slog as I am holding this little scrawny child in my arms, trying to lug around with him. Initially muffled and distant, echoes of soldiers defeated in the battle of the main Macabantran Fort grew louder as we funnelled and snaked our way through narrow passages which led from dungeons to the main encampment. Sounds of destruction and the desperate battle between the two armies became more intense and louder as we neared the encampment. It almost felt like the noise and ruckus were palpable. The strange creatures, which reminded me of some demonic, infernal rat mutation, lurked from every corner and occasionally scurried past us as we were breaking through. We'd bump into them every now
Erzelus POV “Remind me, why are we following the scythe-wielding demon and his cult of wannabe Sherwood bandits like a pile of little ducklings?” the bat king kept screeching and whinging in the background. “Could you explain to Dracula’s wank-off that this is because I know the shortcut from dungeons to the main Macabantran castle? The shortcut where the vampiric little gnat will not cross the paths with Macabantran soldiers from the main castle.” Norgarth said, seemingly talking to me but actually responding to Kandreah without sparing a look at him. These two will need to find a way to work together. “You don’t want to fight them until we join the forces with your army, as far as I understand. Or maybe you, oh, the great king of Vampiric Fae, had a change of heart, and now you think that handful of us fighting against the flurry of Macabantran demons from the main castle is a good idea? That much about your great skills in war tactics,” Norgarth spat as he roll
Erzelus’s POV “Now you listen to me, you feisty little demon fucker. You are the warrior, and I am a king; you will not talk like that with me If you wish to live. If you had at least one functioning brain cell in that Sasquatch head of yours, you would see that a handful of us here are not standing a chance against the Lacrimavlian army. So you will not free the son of Hades even if we go there now without back up of the remainder of the alliance army. And you know why? Because we will all die. You and your king included. They will outnumber us, you demonic moron. To go there, we first need to go back and overtake the main Macabantran castle to merge with our army, gather, plan and regroup before we attack Lacrimavliah. I will not risk my life and the life of my soldiers for a battle which is lost before it began only because you are dumb as fuck, stubborn as a mule and have no idea about war tactics or strategies. I will not allow your stupidity to expose me and my army to
Aralyn's POV My story began with love between Malleteagan and Larissa, my parents, which somehow evolved into a never-ending hatred and Malleteagan’s desire for death. Mine death and that of my mother. It is a dark, misty night. Mid-autumn rain sticks on my dirty and torn clothes, mixing with mud, leaves, and branches we picked up while grazing through the forest. Brushes, stems, and trees cut through my clothes and expose my skin even more. My lungs burn from exhaustion, and sweat breaks out in big lumps. I am out of breath and have difficulty picking up the pace with my mother. If she weren't holding my hand, I would fall behind. I would fall directly into the merciless jaws of our predator, Malleteagan. My mother was outsmarting him for years by running away from him and from his desire for our blood. We have been running since the day I was born. No, strike that, since the day I was conceived, as my mother told me. He was always on our tails, despite my mother being a de
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