Page 135 of Evil Hearts

Chapter One

Ryxin

T he cold bit deep, even through Ryxin’s thick black fur. His breath frosted in the frozen air as he padded through the snow-covered pines, each step crunching faintly under the weight of his massive frame.

Mother Lux—the great white moon—hung low in the sky, her radiant glow painting the snow-blanketed trees in silver and pale gold. Her guiding light cascaded through the bare branches, casting sharp shadows across the glimmering frost.

It was beautiful in a way that only the deadliest places could be—cruel and dangerous. Deceptively captivating onlookers with its beauty despite the threat the deep forest possessed in its shadows.

The acrid scent of charred metal and singed atmosphere filled his nostrils, causing his lungs to ache with each inhalation. The smell grew stronger with each breath, layering bitterness onto the smoky haze drifting lazily from the crater below. Where trees once stood tall and proud, charred stumps now clawed at the sky, framing the jagged wreckage of the intruders that had dared to defile his land.

Ryxin’s lips curled into a silent snarl, claws flexing at his sides as his chest rumbled with an anger he didn’t bother to temper. The escape craft—a mangled, primitive thing just like the main vessel they’d blown up—lay crumpled in a shallow crater, half-buried in the snow. Sparks spit weakly from its torn hull, and the faint hum of a dying power core pulsed in the night, rhythmic as a failing heartbeat.

His Lux Knights fanned out around him, their snow-dusted fur shimmering in the moonlight. They moved like shadows, silent and sharp-eyed as they took in the scene, their breaths fogging in the frigid air.

Their loyalty wasn’t in question—it was etched into the very marrow of their bones; each had sworn their lives to him above all else—except, of course, his brother. No, they followed and they had bled for Ryxin—as their Dark Prince—but Sylas was the Alpha King, ruler of their empire.

Even in the middle of this icy wilderness, a primal need for action surged through him. His claws and teeth ached to be put to good use, but there was no enemy horde to pounce on and tear apart.

Just twisted metal and smoke—and an unfamiliar scent beneath the burn of ozone and melted alloy. Ryxin couldn’t place it, and that only sharpened his irritation.

“What’s your command, my prince?” Vian muttered as he stepped to Ryxin’s side, the snow crunching softly under his weight. The captain’s voice was low, measured, but his eyes betrayed his unease as they flicked to the dark tree line. “Should we inform the Alpha King?”

Ryxin ignored him for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage. The craft was primitive, barely holding together—an insult to their engineered perfection.

Invaders. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had obliterated these creatures’ mothership days ago. Surely, the primitives wouldn’t have survived this—yet another disaster.

“Not yet.” He growled low in his throat. “We handle this now.”

Vian nodded sharply but didn’t move, his focus split between Ryxin and the shadows beyond the crash. The Lux Knights around them shifted slightly, shooting glances at each other and the woods as they readjusted their stances. The tension was palpable, thick enough to taste the icy air.

There was something in their posture—an edge Ryxin didn’t like. The cold wasn’t what made them tense—nor this crash. It was what lurked deep within the woods.

A howl tore through the stillness—sharp and haunting—rising from the forest’s depths and slicing through the silence. It wasn’t the call of one of his pack—no, this was something else. Darker. Wilder.

A series of eerie replies echoed off the cliffs and mountains, a discordant song of madness and hunger—freezing the blood in Ryxin’s veins.

The Fallen.

Every knight froze, their ears twitching as they scanned the shadowed tree line.

Fallen weren’t just rogue and broken—cursed with madness that made them more beast than mind, with strength that rivaled even his own when ambushed.

They were dangerous. Unpredictable. Deadly.

The howl faded, leaving an ominous stillness in its wake. Ryxin’s gaze snapped to the trees, and then to his brethren.

“Form a perimeter,” Ryxin ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. His Knights sprang into action, surrounding the smoking wreckage. “Search the vessel,” Ryxin growled. “If there are survivors, we take them back to the castle.”

Vian’s brow furrowed as he scanned the dark forest beyond. “The crash must’ve drawn them out,” he muttered. “The Fallen don’t need much of an excuse to investigate. Noise, smoke, smell… they’ll scavenge anything of value.”

“Is it worth our lives to save them?” Xar’s voice was sharp as he stood on the edge of the crater, his arms crossed over his chest. “First, they dared to cross our borders with that flying scrap heap of theirs. Now, they’ve dared to crash land here on our holy land. Let the elements and the Fallen deal with their mistake. They’re not our concern.”

Ryxin turned to Xar, his dark fur bristling and a growl rumbling in his chest as he closed the distance between them. “Enough,” Ryxin barked, his claws slashing through the air to slice away any disagreements. “If any live, it’s up to the Alpha King what happens to them. Not you.”

Xar lowered his gaze, pressing his lips together and giving a brief nod.

“Move,” he growled. “NOW!”

With a powerful leap, Ryxin jumped into the crater. The snow around the ship hissed as it melted from the heat of the wreckage. Smoke billowed, stinging his nose as he landed in front of the twisted hatch. His claws dug into the battered metal, and with a guttural snarl, he ripped it open. The door screeched in protest, the sound making the others burst into action.

Inside, five bodies lay crumpled, bloodied, and bruised. Their strange, bipedal forms—bare of fur except for patches on the tops of their heads—looked fragile in the dim light. Their clothes were thin and torn, offering little protection from the icy night.

Ryxin hesitated, his sharp nose catching a faint scent beneath the acrid tang of burning metal. Something sweet, something utterly alien.

Another howl pierced the night, closer this time, sending a chill down his spine and raising the fur along his neck. He moved urgently, grasping the nearest body—a figure with long brown hair and skin pale as the snow. Their chest rose and fell faintly, a fragile sign of life. Without hesitation, he slung them over his shoulder, their light weight inconsequential against his strength.

Vian appeared above the crater, his face betraying a flicker of surprise. “Prince, what are you—”

“Gather the rest,” Ryxin cut him off. He didn’t have time for objections.

His Knights moved quickly, half of them descending into the crater to retrieve the remaining bodies. The rest stood guard, facing the woods with their claws out, ready for action if needed. Ryxin climbed out, his powerful legs propelling him upward. His feet dug into the deep snow as he carried the limp body.

He sent a prayer to Lux to protect his crew.

Ryxin knew traveling in his bipedal stance would slow his pace, as well as that of the others who took the initiative to gather those that remained, but he trusted the rest of his Knights would guard their flank.

The night seemed darker now. Clouds were gathering, thickening as if to smother the light of Mother Lux.

With darkness came vulnerability—The Fallen thrived in it.

Ryxin’s ears twitched, picking up the heavy steps of his Knights following closely behind. The body that was slung over his shoulder shifted, a weak squirming that scraped against his fur. A faint groan followed, soft at first, but then came a sharp, high-pitched exclamation that grated against his sensitive ears.

“Yet goh uff miy!” the voice screeched, piercing and frantic. His ears flattened instinctively, and his lip curled in irritation as the figure’s legs flailed, weakly kicking at his chest and arms. Small hands tugged at his fur, their grip firm but uncoordinated, yanking in a way that made his hackles rise.

“Enough,” Ryxin snarled, his voice rumbling deep within like a growl. He reached behind him, his large paw catching one of the kicking legs and planting it firmly back against him. The struggle didn’t stop, the creature wriggled harder as if it had a chance against his strength. “You foolish creature, you don’t stand a chance.”

“Whaa tha fock!” The creature screamed and kneed Ryxin in the face. “Iy mast biy dreeiy yung.”

His patience, already frayed, snapped. He shook his head to clear his vision, resisting the impulse to hurl this thing down onto the snow-covered ground and leave them behind for The Fallen to do whatever they pleased with them.

With a low growl, he brought his other hand down in a sharp slap against the curve of their rear, the sound cracking through the night like a whip. The body jolted, freezing for a moment. His claws flexed as his hand gripped them there, firm and unyielding, their flesh pliable under his palm.

A soft, breathy whimper escaped the figure’s lips, barely audible over the sounds of the Fallen chasing him and his men. It was enough to make Ryxin pause, his grip tightening slightly as the unfamiliar sound resonated through him.

What was that?

He growled low, unsure if it was anger or something else entirely that flared hot and sudden in his chest. “Stay still,” he commanded, his voice rough, primal. “If you want to live.”

The figure stopped moving, but their grip on Ryxin’s fur tightened, their small hands clutching as if they were accepting their reality. He felt their face press against his back, the warmth of their breath barely registering before a dampness seeped into his fur.

Wetness. It froze almost instantly in the frigid air, the chill biting against his skin through the thick layers of fur. The body began to tremble, soft shivers that grew into violent shakes, wracking their fragile frame.

Ryxin’s ears flattened once more, but this time it wasn’t due to irritation. Rather, a wave of alarm washed over him. He quickened his pace, his claws digging deeper into the ice covered snow as he registered just how utterly ill-equipped this creature was for the frozen landscape.

No fur, no layers to shield them from the cold. Only a pointed shoe on one foot and thin, torn fabric that clung uselessly to their bruised body.

“Lux,” he muttered under his breath, tilting his gaze toward the silver light of the Mother Moon. Her brilliance was dimming as storm clouds rolled in, smothering her glow. Snow swirled in the rising wind, and the sky grew darker by the second. “Is this a test?”

Another howl echoed behind them, accompanied by a whimper from the figure clinging to him.

“To the castle,” he ordered, his voice carrying over the wind.

A reply howl broke the night again from The Fallen—closer, more menacing—announcing the hunt had begun. It vibrated through the air, a promise that chaos was about to descend upon them. The Knights grunted their acknowledgment, their movements more urgent now.

“Do not engage,” Ryxin snapped. “Use your Luxbands.”

He raised his own paw, slamming it against the opal-white tear-gem nestled in his bracelet. The gem pulsed once, flaring with ethereal light that enveloped him and his charge.

The icy wilderness and its dangers gave way, replaced by the warmth of his castle’s tele-landing pad. The glowing stones underfoot hummed with power, their pulsing light a welcome contrast to the dangers outside.

The shaky breath against his neck and the weight of the fragile, trembling strange figure remained, a reminder that his night’s work was far from over.

Ryxin’s fur bristled as he exhaled sharply before carefully lowering the figure and cradling it in his arms.

Their small form fit awkwardly against his broad chest, almost weightless in his hold. The creature’s face came into view, once pale but now red and streaked with frozen tears. They clung to their cheeks like shards of ice, glittering in the castle’s soft glow. Their lips were faintly blue, and their breath came in shallow, uneven bursts.

Something twisted in his chest—an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling that struck like a blow. “Healer!” Ryxin roared, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

The creature stirred weakly at the sound, their lips moving as if to speak, but the words came out garbled and incoherent. Their head tilted against his chest, and their body went limp, all traces of fight draining away.

The sight—this fragile surrender—was like a crack through his iron will. He clutched them tighter, needing to give them some of his warmth.

What was this feeling? His instincts roared at him to protect, to shield, to ensure this delicate thing survived. The allure of their scent—sweet and tantalizing, mingled with the acrid tang of burnt metal—wrapped around him like a trap.

Was it a defense mechanism? A trick designed to confuse predators, to make monsters like him hesitate before finishing the deed?

The thought gnawed at him as he stared down at the limp figure, their strained face bathed in the tele-landing pad’s lighting. His jaw tightened, the urge to dismiss the strange pull warring with something… else.

This creature, this invader—their people had crossed unannounced into his territory, and now, one of its emergency vessels had crashed onto his world—their capital.

And yet, as their shivering breaths ghosted against his chest, Ryxin could feel his resolve bending.

Something was telling him—perhaps Lux herself—that he couldn’t let them die by his hand, by his dismissal of their needs.

“Healer!”