Aralyn’s POV
While failing to learn from my past mistakes, I glanced back again quickly, and I saw my mother's shadows projected out of her body while my father was in his Lycan form. His Lycan looked like your worst nightmare, like the beast that came straight out of the ninth circle of the inferno. A bear-sized, massive, two-legged monster that looked like an enraged, sadistic, homicidal wolf on a hunt. His obsidian fur glistened blindingly in the hazy night as he shifted before my mother. If the reason for his shift weren't so daunting, just looking at the shine of his fur would make one mesmerised. The only light point on the deadly mass of charcoal black fur were his eyes, now radiating between neon grey and glacier white. The beast before us was truly magnificent and beautiful. Scrap that, nothing beautiful in here, I thought to myself next second when I saw his dragon-like fangs dripping foamy saliva, snarling and snapping towards mother rabidly. He looked monstrous, murderous and daunting, while his claws looked like blades. Should, in some bizarre parallel universe Freddie Krueger and Wolverine ever be able to procreate children together, the claws of their urchins would be as those of little kittens when compared to this fuckers claws. My mother knew she stood no chance against him in physical combat. Because forget his talons, this guy is a lethal bulky mass of muscle, brute force and embodiment of strength and stamina. She knew the only way to spar with him was with magic. He released his magic during the combat, but it was not as obsidian nor as strong as my mother's. His strength was in his physical power, not in that of a mage. When they released their magic against each other, his magic reminded me of moonlight. He clashed with Mother whilst simultaneously attempting to lunge at her throat. Tentacles of Mother’s magic were slivering left, right and centre around Malleteagan in an attempt to engulf and squeeze his neck in a life-or-death fight. Her magic was wreaking havoc against the beast that looked like a devil himself. But he ignored it, swiftly cutting through it, punching and cracking every bone in her body. No matter how much she tried to deflect and avoid his assaults, he was too quick, calculated and destructive. Within seconds, she looked like a sack of broken bones. Her attack morphed into desperate defence, and slivers of her magic retracted back to her. She looked so small and frail against the embodiment of the beast, which was quickly draining her out of life, energy, and magic with every punch. Soon, she looked shattered, knackered, and defeated, although still determined to fight tooth and nail against the beast before her. She fought to death to keep me alive and safe, to give me time to run. The number of wounds and bruises on her made her unrecognisable. Mom had skin tears all over her body and face. She was bleeding profusely. And then, I heard it. Her final scream while she gurgled and gasped for air. It sounded as if she was choked with her blood. She fell to her knees with a loud thud and collapsed on the ground. Mother lifted her head and watched him straight into her eyes. I have heard my mother roaring a strange, foreign and mystic invocation: “Invoco majores meos ut des sanguinem et magica meum in sanguinem meum. Maioris mei voco ut darem heres meam potentia meam cum stillicidium sanguinis mei novissimum effusus fuerit.” He decapitated her by the swift severing of her head from her body with his claws. Her corpse fell, lifeless, and her blood started to soak the earth surrounding it, whilst shadows engulfing her during the fight began to evaporate from her body in the thick air, darkening the night and entwining with the late-night fog of the forest. The extent of the flock of magpies which rose from the trees above us at that moment was hard to gauge with one’s eyes. They were squawking and cawing in an unbearable cacophony whilst rising to the sky, adding more to the dim and murky colours of the now jet-black sky. Then I heard nothing more. Just ominous silence, which was broken by Malleteagan‘s vicious, victorious snarl combined with the rushed footsteps sound of his mammoth-like pace. I am his next goal now.Aralyn’s POV Suddenly, the forest was encased in dreadful, ominous silence. And then I felt it. My mother died. The only sound I could hear was my breath and his eerie footsteps as he quickly approached his next target - me. My breath, his footsteps and my faltering heartbeat, as my strength was ebbing again. I felt like I was on my deathbed, grasping for the last atoms of my being. Like a cadaver-to-be taking its last breath before demise. And then, out of nowhere, I felt my heartbeat again, rejuvenated somehow, but now it felt as if my heart was down to my heels. My heart was beating so loudly that it felt like the beat of my heart would burst my ears. And it increased every second of my desperate attempt to escape my executioner…my father. He wants me dead; that was clear as a day. That sudden surge of unknown energy crawled, slivered, and transferred into me as if giving me a new lifeline. And then it came. Darkness. A pitch-black pit that I started to fall into encompassed
Aralyn’s POV Oh fuck, forget what I said. I prefer to slowly die of starvation in the desert rather than have this beast disfigure me. That way, I would have at least a slim chance of survival. Even if I had a bit more energy to try to summon some of the mothers' power, there was no way that I could fight this Sasquatch, mammoth-sized, two-legged, wolf-like demon. Let alone the fact that I am a twelve-year-old girl on the run from the experienced, original, first Lycan king who went through centuries of training and battles. Well, Aralyn, make a death wish, say goodbye to the world, and pray that daddy dearest gives you a quick and at least somewhat painless death. I closed my eyes and expected squelching sounds, blood cracks, pain and death. I even pictured him dismembering my head from my neck with his fangs, ripping off my heart with his bare hands. Same as he did to my mum. The pain and demise were palpable. But that never happened. Instead, I heard a roar of fury in th
Where is Sentaya? She promised to cloak and protect me, and she did so for over five years. How did he find me? Did he already spot me? Shall I run? An unknown voice in my head reassured me that he could not see me because of the cloaking spell, but I was still scared shitless. My instinct told me to run. "He does not see you. Stay put. If you run, you will expose yourself with movement and your scent," the voice reassured me."Who to fuck are you?" I asked the voice."You will find out soon, when the time comes. For now, all you need to know is that you must stay put if you want to survive," the voice echoed in my mind. "Fuck, I hear voices. Am I ok, or have I gone mad?" I chuckled to myself. I glanced back to the army of carnivores. Their agenda is to find me and execute me. That much is clear. Fear rippled through my very essence and spread across my body like a plague."Are you fucking mad?! Even if they can’t see you because of the cloaking spell, they will feel your fear, so put
Aralyn's POV-Two months after the battle-"Marcellus Riggs, I hate you! Have you heard me, you motherfucker?! I hope you will live for eternity and watch everything you hold dear rot in Hell in slow and excruciating pain. You twisted piece of shit." I screamed at the top of my lungs while his face remained dreadfully expressionless.My memories drifted away back to the day of battle between Sentaya and Malleteagan and to the feeling of relief that rippled through me when Lycans were defeated, and they started to retreat.But…sense of urgency and horror replaced the relief momentarily when Hades' army started to surge into the battlefield. A whiff of massacred Lycans wafted to Hades himself. He wanted strong Lycan servants in his army, the ones of souls untouched and untainted by Sentaya and Denexus, so he could have them malleable and under his thumb with no leverage, nuisance or obstructions. And under the pecking order of Soovare underworld, Wengarthria, as the centre of hell, has
Aralyn POV-The day of the Oribus battle-***Trigger warning: scenes of physical and emotional abuse***"Where are you, little mouse? You can get out of your hole. The danger is gone."I trusted her, and that was a mistake.Well, blame me for being stupid. She warned me over five years ago that I shall trust no one. I came out and saw the absolute havoc in front of me. Hades' army came scything and harvesting everything on their way. They have picked up the corpses of fallen Lycans in front of the pissed-off Sentaya. She looked calm, but you could feel the scorching anger boiling behind lifeless pits that were her eerie eyes. I looked at the army and felt like my heartbeat had stopped entirely. I had heard stories about him when I eavesdropped on the chats between Sentaya and Denexus. Still, I never actually saw him until today. Hades' army was led by Marcellus Riggs. Rumour has it that he is Hades’ illegitimate son. He looked at me as if he saw through the cloaking spell that Senta
Aralyn’s POV ***Trigger Warning: scenes of physical violence and emotional abuse “Good morning, sunshine”, I heard a voice in close proximity before I felt water spill on me from a barrel. Silver shackles on my wrists and ankles were biting my skin viciously already. Water mixed with what smelled like wolfsbane made every inch of my tormented body sizzle and burn. The pain was unbearable. His minions laughed sinisterly. Then Marcellus came closer and grabbed my hair in a movement that felt like he was about to rip my scalp off. That tug forced me to lift my head and look straight into his face. And fuck, did he look good-that, crazy voice in my head again. What’s going on with me? I should have been mortified by the Satan that was holding my scalp in a gut-wrenching grip. Instead, I was looking at a few messy, stubborn, auburn locks which faded to a warm honey shade on their ends while they ran away from his neatly styled hair and formed almost a halo around his strong an
Aralyn’s POV ***Trigger Warning: scenes of physical violence and emotional abuse. I have the same nightmare again. It was about her. Mother. Oh Goddess, how I miss her. This nightmare seems to just be on repeat, over and over again. Every time I close my eyes, it becomes more vivid. This started to happen since I was in Wengarthria. In my nightmare, I see the fight between my parents and the moment when my… Malleteagan…rips my mother's head off and pulls her heart out. I see him eating her heart, looking at me. Then, his face morphs into Marcellus. I am trying to run away, but I can’t make it this time. He catches me, and we are in Wengartria again. His beasts torture me again in that cell. Then he stomps over me and starts to rip my limbs from my body. Finally, he decapitates me and rips my heart out. Then I hear those curse words and wake up. This happens over and over again every time as if I were in some endless Groundhog Day hell-loop. I am afraid to slee
Aralyn’s POV ***Triggering content: scenes of physical and emotional abuse Travelling from the white room to wherever the dungeons were was not long. I squinted to adapt to the darkness of that bloody dungeon. My hands were tied behind my back. I was in a kneeling position with legs as well tied around my ankles. Marcellus was just in front of my face. While he looked straight into my eyes with his now obsidian pits, which replaced his steely grey eyes, shivers went down my spine. With a dreadfully low and calm voice, he asked me: “Will you eat?” He emphasised every word with his eerily quiet voice, and his luscious mint scent wafted to me. I felt sweat protruding to my skin along with primaeval and raw fear of him. My anxiety and fear of the devil before me, coupled with a sore and dry throat, rendered me unable to form a sound. I looked at him, trying to open my mouth to form a word, but I couldn’t. He furiously pivoted and side-kicked me directly to my barely recovered jaw, dis