Marcellus POVDamn, I am the fucking main lead of this circus. Shouldn’t I have some kind of plot armour or some crap like that? Each time when I opened my eyes, it was close to impossible to stay focused on the mirror of reality. And that was the goal because regardless of how shitty I look at the moment, the images projected from the mirror of reality are the most bearable ones. Ok, I see that my human is getting old with the speed of the lightning and is about to die, becoming ashes and dust very soon, but hey, the mirror of reality is still showing the least bothersome things. I should have been dead and forgotten aeons ago anyway if I wasn’t immortal. So, ageing and dying are something that doesn’t touch me at all. I have lived so long that I think it would actually give me some relief, happiness and peace. The only thing that makes dying undesirable at the moment is unresolved issues that I would leave behind me. And this is what tortures in Wengarthria are all about. Once the s
Marcellus’ POVI couldn’t watch it anymore. I couldn’t cope with her pain. I couldn’t stand this guilt anymore. “Aaaaaaargh!!! Stop with this!!! Take me out of here!!! Kill me!!!!! Please, kill me!!!Just stop it!!!” You wanted me to beg, bitch?! I am begging now… just stop this!!!” I thought I would manage to yell out loudly and beg them to stop the torture and end my life, but my tormented, aged body only managed to croak a muffled sound that sounded more like a rattled whisper of a man on a deathbed rather than a scream. The inhumane noises I made in an attempt to beg for death were broken by a malicious simper which echoed through the lab. I heard the bitches voice somewhere outside: “Hi….dear son…. I told you that you will be my bitch and will do exactly what I want…I have told you that you will beg…. I have told you that I will find your weakness…sooner or later…” the bitch cackled somewhere outside. “Oh…a birdie told me you have found your mate….son…Oh my…oh my…I see that gui
Marcellus’ POVAnd then my gaze turned to the mirror of fears. There she stood, the embodiment of perfection. My mate. The goddess. The princess. The queen. Brought in this world to be mine, created just for me as I was made for her. I am the embodiment of sexual pleasure and desire. I am the incubus. I can lure any woman into my bed. With my telepathic abilities, I could invoke the desire in any woman or man, demon or any other creature. And army of women and men passed through my bed. But can I make a woman forgive me? Can I make her love me?No, and there is nothing more that I need at this moment. Aralyn’s forgiveness. Aralyn’s understanding that all the misery I made her go through was a fucking mistake that I would carry as a burden and regret as long as I am alive and beyond that point. I need Aralyn’s love. I need her to love me despite all the crap I did. This would give me a reason to fight back and to stay alive. I don’t want her to be attracted to me only because of the ma
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
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, mur
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