Lycans

The alpha’s voice cracks as he speaks, and the weight of his words fills the room with a heavy silence. “Red Rock was my twin brother’s pack.”

The pain in his voice is unmistakable, a deep wound that hasn’t healed. My heart clenches, breaking for him as I witness the raw emotion he’s trying to contain.

“He was a powerful alpha,” Nathan continues, his voice strained with grief. “His pack was strong—stronger than most. The ravens had tried to attack them many times, and every single time, they failed.” His jaw tightens as he recalls his brother’s defiance. “I’d offered my support more than once, urged him to consider speaking with the lycan king, but he always refused. He was too proud. He didn’t want to accept help, let alone ask for it.”

His voice drops lower, filled with regret. “The lycan king… he stays oblivious to the affairs of the werewolves. He doesn’t involve himself, not with us. But when it comes to the dark sorcerer,” Nathan pauses, his gaze hardening, “the lycan king is the only one who might stand a chance at defeating him.”

Nathan’s grief is palpable as he reflects on his last conversation with his brother. “The last time I saw him, we argued. It was over the same thing—requesting an audience with the lycan forces.” His voice wavers, the sorrow breaking through his stoic facade. “It had been three weeks since I’d heard from him. That’s why I sent Sam to scout the area.” He swallows hard, his hands balling into fists as he continues. “I already had a feeling he had lost the battle. I’d mourned him long before I heard Sam’s howl.”

His voice cracks as the tears begin to fall, his quiet sobs echoing in the heavy silence of the room. “Did you… did you see his body when you cremated the wolves?” His question hangs in the air, filled with desperate hope.

I can feel my own tears sliding down my face as I recall the gruesome scene. My heart aches for him, for the loss of his brother and the devastation of the pack. “If his wolf looks like yours,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see the corpse of an alpha.” The memory of the stakes, the bodies, the ashes—it haunts me still. “But what did you mean when you said the lycan king stays oblivious to werewolf affairs?”

Nathan wipes his eyes and composes himself, though his grief still lingers. His expression turns grim, but there’s a glimmer of hope as well. “My brother… he was never one to abandon his pack. If his body wasn’t there, it’s possible—no, it’s likely—that he was captured. Either alive or dead.”

He shifts in his seat, straightening his posture as he prepares to explain the intricate relationship between lycans and werewolves. “Lycans are different from us,” he says, his tone taking on a more serious edge. “They have a wolf form, yes, but they also have a lycan form. A more… powerful form.”

He leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he continues. “With us werewolves, we gather in packs. Each pack has an alpha who leads and a beta who stands as second in command. But lycans? They live together in a kingdom. They have one leader—the lycan king. And his beta, the second in command, is more like a general than just a subordinate.”

He pauses, letting the significance of the differences sink in. “A normal lycan is said to be as strong as any alpha. But the lycan king? He’s rumored to be stronger than ten alphas combined.”

The room falls into a tense silence as everyone absorbs the sheer power Nathan is describing. I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on all of us. The strength of the lycans is immense, and the divide between our kinds is deeper than I had realized.

“With this difference in power,” Nathan says, bitterness creeping into his voice, “the lycans consider themselves better than us. Superior. The lycan king has offered us safety, yes, but only if we move into his kingdom.”

His expression darkens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. “If we were to accept that offer, it would mean giving up everything we stand for. Being an alpha—it’s in my blood. I was born to lead my pack. And more than that, we need our bond with nature. We live in the wild. We thrive in it. To move into a kingdom where we’re viewed as inferior, separated from the land that gives us strength… it’s against our very nature.”

His hands clench into fists, frustration lacing his words. “The lycan king has laid claim to the entire woodland territory. He allows us to build our packs within it as long as we don’t interfere with the lycans. But he doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t understand the connection we have with the land, the traditions we hold sacred.”

I nod, understanding the depth of his pride and the complexity of their relationship with the lycans. “So the lycan king isn’t a bad person,” I say, piecing together his feelings. “He just doesn’t understand the differences between your kinds.”

Nathan sighs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. “Exactly. He’s not cruel, but he’s oblivious. He doesn’t get why we can’t live under his rule. To him, it’s all about strength and power. But for us, it’s about more than that. It’s about honor. It’s about the bond we share with our pack, with nature.”

I can see now why Nathan’s brother had refused help, why he had been so adamant about maintaining his independence. And yet, that decision had cost him everything—his pack, his life.

Nathan’s eyes meet mine, filled with a grim determination. “I’ll help you, Lenora. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop the dark sorcerer. But if we’re going to survive this, we need to get the lycan king involved. Whether he likes it or not.”