The Chronicles of Lycanthorin

Prologue: The Night of Fire and Blood The castle burned. Flames clawed at the midnight sky, thick smoke twisting upward as the stench of blood and death soaked the once-sacred halls of the Lycanthorin palace. Warriors' screams ricocheted through the corridors, their bodies crumpling as the enemy surged forward-ruthless, unstoppable. King Aldric Lycanthorin stood at the heart of the chaos, golden eyes blazing with fury. His hands trembled, clenched into fists, fire surging around him as the ground beneath his feet split open.

The might of an Alpha King-earth and flame, destruction woven with power. But this battle was slipping from him. His queen was fading. Selene's sharp cry had sliced through the fray moments ago, and the mate bond-unbreakable, a lifeline turned curse-bled him dry. Her pain seared into his soul, his fire dimming with every faltering beat of her heart. The earth still quaked at his command, but its fury waned as grief clawed him raw. The enemy closed in. A dark figure glided through the inferno, cloaked in shadow and the reek of black magic. The air crackled, thick with unnatural energy, as witches wove eerie chants into the slaughter. Dark forces had come for the throne. Aldric braced himself, exhaustion sinking into his bones. His people-his son-needed him. He wouldn't fall without a fight. The darkness struck harder. Shadowed claws of magic shredded his defenses. He roared, fire flaring in a desperate surge, but it sputtered, sapped by the bond's cruel pull. The ground cracked beneath him, a faint echo of his fading might. Beside him, his son snapped. Fifteen-year-old Valrik Lycanthorin, silver eyes glowing as Draeven snarled within. "I won't let you die!" he growled, voice cracking with rage. Queen Selene-bleeding, her body broken, yet clinging to life-gripped his arm with trembling hands. Her voice rasped, fierce despite the pain. "You are our future, Valrik-" A wave of black magic crashed through the hall. Selene's words choked off as shadowed claws tore into her chest. Her heart stilled, and Aldric's bond snapped-a hollow, shattering void. His fire snuffed out, his knees buckled, and he collapsed beside her, golden eyes dimming as death claimed him through her loss. Valrik screamed. Fury ignited within him, Draeven clawing free. His bones snapped, his body twisted-silver fur erupted, and a young wolf's roar shook the air. Flames of his own burst forth, wild and unchecked, swallowing the hall in a blazing inferno. Witches shrieked as they burned, enemy warriors reduced to ash. The castle trembled, walls crumbling under his wrath. The dark figure flinched, shadows coiling, then fled into the night-untouched by the fire. When the flames died, Valrik stood amidst the ruin, silver fur streaked with soot. The enemy was gone, the war won-but at his feet lay his parents, hands clasped, unbroken in spirit yet lost to the night. He was king now.