Page 11

Kassira

"I t is commonly taught — in schools and village firesides alike — that modern lycans descend directly from the ancient ones. Towering beasts of shadow and fury, primal ancestors whose blood birthed the packs of today. This, however, is a carefully constructed lie.

In truth, there were never such things as 'ancient lycans.' The creatures referenced in myth were never lycans at all. They were something else entirely.

They were called Hellhounds. Monsters with wings of smoke and talons carved from flame.

Not bound to the Moon. Not blessed by the gods.

Not tied even to the lord of the Underworld.

These were entities outside of the natural order, born not of wombs or stars, but of hellfire and death.

Demigods in their own right. There were seven in total, walking the Earth more than two thousand years ago. Indestructible. Without mercy.

They sought only one thing, the only thing they were missing: a soul.

A Spark. That elusive glimmer of purpose the gods gave freely to lesser beings.

They wanted to bring light to the dark, hollow void inside them.

They wanted the Mate Spark — the soul’s twin flame.

And they were willing to tear the heavens apart to get it.

The gods tried to stop them. With weapons. With strategy. With prophecy. But nothing worked. You cannot strategize against chaos. You cannot outmaneuver something that has no rules.

So the Hellhounds, through relentless destruction, arrived at the steps of the heavens and won the war.

They made the gods bow to them. The Moon Goddess was the first to accept their victory.

But she also understood their pain. In the end, she was the only god who accepted their request and when they finally gained their Sparks — when they met the mates tethered to their own souls — they quieted.

They retreated. They became protectors, not destroyers.

It is said that each bonded pair tamed the storm within the other. And together, they created the first packs of lycans and dragons. The original seven. As gratitude toward the Moon for her gift, they also took her wolves under their protection.

Since then, only a diluted drop of their blood has lingered in certain shifter lines. Harmless and dormant.

The High Priestesses of the Moon have protected this knowledge for millennia at the request of our goddess.

The rest of the gods weaved the legends of the ancient lycans and, in their stories, stripped the Hellhounds of their wings and their talons and the scales under their fur.

Because they didn’t want the world to remember the only time in history when they had to kneel.

The resurgence of a true Hellhound — full-blooded and awakened — is an omen we all need to fear. It will either come to destroy the world or save it. But the world won’t know until the last moment.

A final note of warning: the bond of a Hellhound cannot be truly severed. Not by magic. Not by will. It is not like any other bond. It can be cloaked, buried behind a wall of one’s own making. But it will always remain — howling in the dark."

End of excerpt

I slam the book shut so hard that dust explodes off the spine. My hands are shaking.

Hellhound. HELLHOUND!

Draven isn’t a lycan. He’s not even a normal shifter. He’s something older. Darker. Something the gods themselves couldn’t stop. And I severed a bond that can’t be severed.

Stars above.

I press a palm to my chest, but there’s nothing. No spark. No echo. Just the chill spreading down my spine.

“Of course,” I mutter bitterly. “Of course he’s one of the seven nightmare monsters from the pre-soul apocalypse. Why wouldn’t he be?”

Neris is quiet for once. Even she doesn’t have a sarcastic remark. That’s how bad this is.

“I cloaked the bond,” I whisper, the realization sinking in. “I didn’t destroy it. I just… closed the door.”

I look toward the window. Somewhere out there, the not-lycan is pacing the halls of this palace. Probably brooding. Probably shirtless. And absolutely, undeniably, still tethered to my soul.

“Great,” I mumble. “I’m emotionally handcuffed to an indestructible, hellfire-born demigod with talons bigger than my face.”

I rub at my temples. I’m about to have the headache of a thousand headaches.

“I need tea. And maybe a priestess.”

Of course the bane of my existence picks the exact moment I’m having a meltdown to waltz into the library.

“Are you okay?” Draven asks as he slides into the seat beside me, shoving a plate of food under my nose. Steak. Dammit, that smells amazing.

Then I feel it — a touch. Light at first. Tentative. And then firmer, drawing slow, steady circles between my shoulder blades.

Relief blooms in my chest like warmth from a fire. The headache vanishes instantly.

I glance at him. He immediately pulls his hand back.

“Don’t stop,” I snap.

His hand returns. I melt. Just a little.

The pounding in my skull eases again. The tension in my spine unwinds. I exhale, leaning slightly into the pressure.

“I’m fine,” I lie, opening the book and pushing it toward him. “You read. I’ll eat. And you keep touching my back. Got it?”

He nods. Doesn’t say a word. Just picks up the book like a dutiful research assistant and keeps his hand where I need it. He reads, I devour the food.

The second I swallow the last bite, he speaks.

“So the bond’s not severed!”

He sounds elated. Like he just won a century old war.

I give him a flat look. “That’s your takeaway?”

I gesture at the book, a second away from picking it up and throwing it at his head.

“We just read that you're most probably a creature born of hellfire. That gods once lost a war to your kind. That the world could be saved or destroyed, depending on how you might feel each morning. And you’re excited about the bond?”

“Everything else can be figured out,” he says, voice suddenly quiet. Serious. “But I thought our bond was gone. Forever. And it’s not.”

His smile is small. But so full of hope. Damn him. “Of course, even if it was… it wouldn’t have changed anything for me. But it’s good to know it’s still there.” He taps two fingers against his chest.

I cross my arms and huff. He sighs and stands.

“Come on, grumpy,” he says with too much charm. “Neris needs a run. I need to stretch my wings. Let’s get out of here before your brain explodes.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “I could use a break. The High Priestess is still coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll show her the manuscript, let her dig through the crazy with us. Maybe she’ll have something to help.”

My paws barely skim the forest floor, Neris laughing in my head, wild and high.

We’ve been running for what feels like hours, but I’m not tired. Not even close. The trees part for me. The wind howls with me. The forest sings back to my steps. And above it all — above the forest — I feel him. A shadow of wings that circles high, gliding like a dark god against the clouds.

“ I could outrun him in a race on foot, ” Neris pants, determined. “ He’s big and fast, but I’m small and slippery. ”

“ You're going to crash into a tree, ” I warn her.

And not even a second later — bam — her side clips a low branch and she tumbles in a heap of tangled limbs and fur.

“ Don’t say it, ” she groans.

I smirk. “ I told you so. ”

With a huff, I take control again and shift back.

My human form returns in a ripple of heat, muscles stretching, bones cracking.

I gasp through it, skin steaming in the cold air.

I'm naked, of course, but I remedy that instantly when I see a big shirt hanging on the branch of a tree. They’re everywhere here, ready for any shifter to use after a run.

I barely have time to shake out my hair before I hear the rush of wind.

Draven.

He lands like something out of a dream — or a nightmare, depending on the day — and the moment his boots touch the ground, he’s smiling right at me.

Wings spread wide behind him. Bare chest gleaming with sweat — hmm, that dark bruise is starting to worry me.

His eyes drag over me once. Slowly. Intently. And then, without warning, strong arms scoop me off the ground.

I yelp. Loudly.

“What the hell are you doing!?” I shout as the world tilts.

He laughs and unfurls his massive wings with a thunderous snap. My stomach drops as we shoot into the sky.

“I’m giving you a new perspective, mate. See the world in a way you haven’t seen it before.”

The air is cold but his body is fire. Every beat of his wings sends a gust of wind past my face, sweeping through my hair, tightening the skin on my cheeks. I wrap my arms around his neck tighter. His grip never wavers.

We soar even higher.

Above the trees. Above the palace. Above everything.

The sky is endless here. Burned orange at the edges where the sun’s just about to bow. And beneath us, the forest stretches like a living sea. Wild and boundless.

And gods, I laugh.

I laugh so loud it echoes into the clouds.

It bursts out of me like sunlight. Like freedom. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not thinking. Not planning. Not worrying. I’m just here — wind in my hair, sun on my skin, arms wrapped around the Alpha King while his wings cut through the heavens.

Even Neris is giddy, tail wagging, soaking it all in with big, bright eyes. And she’s a wolf, she shouldn’t be enjoying this!

In this moment, the world isn’t in danger of catching fire.

In this moment, I feel light. And free.