Damien's POV
The day had started like every other day, except this time… I had just risen from the dead.
Sunlight filtered through the crimson curtains of my chamber, warm yet blinding, almost mocking. My body still ached, each breath burned like smoke trapped inside my lungs. I could hear the faint creak of the door before I even turned.
"Brother!"
Selene's voice pierced the quiet. She burst into the room before I could utter a word, her hair a tangle of gold and fire, eyes wide with both joy and command. She looked like a storm wrapped in silk.
"You shouldn't be up! You should be resting," she scolded, striding toward me, a tray of medicine bottles rattling in her hands.
"Selene, it's too early for—"
"No excuses!" she cut me off, forcing one of the bottles into my hand. "You almost died, Damien. You're lucky to even be breathing."
I sighed, my patience thinning as I glanced at her fussing around like an old nursemaid.
"You sound like Duchess Elara."
"Good," she said, pressing a cup of water to my lips. "Maybe that'll keep you alive long enough to listen to me."
She smiled faintly, but her eyes… her eyes carried the kind of fear that never leaves after losing something once. I could see the ghosts behind her smile, the nights she must've sat beside me when I wasn't breathing.
"Alright," I said finally, swallowing the bitter liquid. "Happy now?"
She grinned, the corners of her lips softening. "Not yet. You're still too pale."
"Selene."
She pouted like a child before turning toward the door. "Fine, fine. But you better take the rest of those medicines or I'll have Kael shove them down your throat."
I chuckled, shaking my head as she disappeared behind the door. "Some things never change."
After she left, silence returned, heavy and unwelcome. I stared at my reflection in the mirror: pale, scarred, but alive. Alive enough to finish what had been started.
After taking the last of the medicine, I washed my face, letting the cold water burn away the remaining weakness. My muscles screamed when I moved, but pain only fueled me.
By the time I stepped into the courtyard, the sun had turned golden and cruel.
The sound of steel clashing echoed faintly from the far end of the grounds. Soldiers were already training, the scent of iron and sweat thick in the air. As I walked past the pillars, my gaze fell upon a tall, broad man dressed in dark armor, the insignia of the wolf kingdom gleaming on his chest.
"Sir Julius," I called.
He turned sharply and bowed low. His silver hair caught the sunlight, his eyes sharp as tempered steel. Second in command to Kael, disciplined, loyal, and built like a fortress.
"My king," he said.
"Are the soldiers preparing?" I asked, my tone even, though the pulse in my temple throbbed with anticipation.
"Yes, sire. They've been training since dawn. Would you like to inspect them?"
I nodded, and he led me through the long archway that opened into the Lycanium Grounds, the open field where generations of warriors had honed their bloodlust. The air buzzed with movement, swords clanged, arrows flew, commands were shouted.
When they noticed me, every soldier froze, turning toward me in unison.
"Your Majesty," Julius said quietly, "they've heard the rumors… they thought you were..."
"Dead," I finished. "Let them look. Let them see their king returned from death itself."
I raised my voice. "Train harder. Tonight, we march not for glory but for vengeance. The battle will not be kind, prepare as though death himself is your opponent."
A unified shout thundered back, "YES, MY KING!"
Their voices shook the air. I turned to Julius. "Ensure they're ready. The vampires won't know mercy, and neither will we."
"Yes, sire."
Leaving him, I headed toward the old Wolf's Hollow Arena, the secluded training ground where I used to spar before dawn. The scent of dirt and old steel filled the air, familiar, grounding. I picked up a sword from the rack, its weight both strange and comforting.
As I swung, each motion pulled at the wounds beneath my skin, a reminder of the poison that almost stole everything from me. But I didn't care. Pain was proof I was alive.
Then a familiar voice echoed from behind.
"You're pushing yourself too soon."
Kael.
He emerged from the shadows, his black armor glinting faintly, his expression torn between respect and concern.
"I'm fine," I muttered, striking again.
"You're not fine," he said sharply. "You were barely breathing two weeks ago. You should be in bed."
I turned toward him, my grip tightening around the hilt. "Bed won't prepare me for war."
Kael's jaw tightened. "And war won't wait for you to heal, my king."
I smirked faintly. "Then I guess I'll have to force it to wait."
For a moment, silence. Then I looked him dead in the eye. "Draw your sword."
"My king..."
"Now, Kael."
He hesitated, but eventually unsheathed his blade. The metal gleamed coldly beneath the morning light.
"Don't go easy on me," I said, circling him slowly. "Fight like you mean it."
He frowned. "You dare command me to harm my king?"
"I command you to respect me enough not to hold back."
A grin flickered across his lips. "As you wish."
We lunged.
The clash of steel tore through the air, blow after blow, strike after parry. The sound of our blades sang like thunder. Sweat beaded down my face; my muscles screamed, but I pressed on.
Kael was fast, sharper than most, but I'd fought worse. He swung low, and I blocked, spinning and driving him back. Sparks flew when our swords collided again.
"You're still weak," he grunted.
"I'm alive," I replied. "That's enough."
Then a sting. His blade grazed my arm, slicing open a line of red. Blood spilled.
Kael's eyes widened, and he immediately dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, my king..."
"Stand," I ordered, wiping the blood away. "You fight well. That's why you're beside me on the field."
He hesitated, then stood and bowed. "You honor me, sire."
"Don't thank me yet," I said, raising my blade again. "Round two."
The next clash ended with his sword flying from his grasp, embedding itself in the dirt. I stood over him, breathing hard, blade pressed against his shoulder.
He looked up and smirked. "I guess even death can't tame you."
I laughed softly, lowering my sword. "I fought death and won. What's one more battle?"
We both sheathed our weapons. Kael excused himself, and I went inside to wash the blood off before breakfast.
The dining hall smelled of roasted bread and herbs. Duchess Elara sat at the long table, elegant and regal as ever, her silver hair pinned high, eyes like sharp glass.
"My dear boy," she greeted, her voice warm but edged. "You look much better."
"I am better," I said, taking a seat beside her.
She studied me as I reached for the bread. Her gaze dropped to the faint red seeping through my sleeve.
"What happened to your arm?"
"Nothing," I said casually. "Just a cut. Training with Kael."
Her eyes narrowed. "Training? You just woke up from near death and you're already bleeding again?"
"I'm fine," I insisted, forcing a smile.
"You're reckless," she said softly. "Just like your father."
That silence between us said more than either of us wanted to admit. I stood, brushing crumbs from my fingers.
"I'll make everything fine," I said. "For all of us."
She didn't stop me when I left, though I could feel her eyes following me.
The rest of the day bled into dusk preparations, orders, strategy. The castle buzzed like a restless heart.
And when night finally fell, I stood before the mirror once more.
My armor gleamed black under torchlight, obsidian plates etched with silver veins, the mark of the wolf king glowing faintly across my chest. I strapped my sword to my back, pulled on my gauntlets, and fastened my cloak. The reflection that stared back wasn't a man, it was vengeance forged into flesh.
When I descended to the courtyard, hundreds of soldiers stood aligned in formation, torches blazing. Kael stood at the front, his armor dark as midnight, Julius beside him, banners fluttering behind them.
The air vibrated with tension.
I raised my sword. "Tonight, we take back what's ours. We fight for our fallen, for our honor, for the blood that has been spilled! Tomorrow, the moon will rise over our victory!"
"YES, MY KING!"
Their roar shook the heavens.
I turned, Duchess Elara stood by the gate, her expression pale, eyes wide. She walked toward me, stopping just before the line.
"Come back alive, Damien," she said softly. "I'll pray for you… and for victory."
I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "I promise."
She stepped back, and I mounted my horse. Kael and Julius followed suit.
"Wait!"
A familiar voice cut through the noise.
Kael turned. "Selene?"
I looked back, there she was, dressed in battle leather, her hair braided tightly, a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. A white horse stood beside her, restless but graceful, its mane catching the moonlight.
"Selene, no..."
"Don't start," she said sharply. "I'm going. You can't stop me."
"Selene..."
"I said no!" she snapped, mounting the horse. Her eyes glimmered with stubborn fire. "Let's go, brother."
I exhaled slowly, then gave the command. "Move out."
The gates creaked open, and we rode into the night.
The moon hung high, full, silver, powerful. Its light coursed through my veins like fire. The wolves within us stirred, our senses sharpened, our strength magnified. Under the moon, we were gods of war.
By the time we reached the border of the vampire city, the world had gone silent, too silent.
I raised my hand, halting the army. "Once we enter… leave nothing standing. No mercy."
"Yes, my king."
I turned to Kael and whispered, "Protect Selene." He nodded.
Then I shouted, "MOVE!"
Chaos followed.
Fire. Steel. Blood.
We stormed through the city, the clash of war echoing through the streets. Buildings burned, screams rose. The night became a crimson storm. I charged ahead, cutting through vampire guards like paper.
The palace loomed ahead, black against the flames. My soldiers spread through the streets, led by Julius, while Kael and Selene followed me toward the gates.
Two vampire guards charged, I cut them down before they even reached me.
The horn of warning blared, the signal that the royals were under attack.
Perfect.
I stormed through the palace doors, blade drawn, and froze. Slashing as they charged towards me
Then suddenly i saw him.
"We meet again King Adrian"
He stood there.
He turned, eyes wide, disbelief etched across his face.
"Damien…" he whispered.
I smirked bitterly. "Surprised to see me? I bet you thought I'd stay dead."
He stepped forward slowly. "Damien, listen..."
"No," I growled. "listened? When you tried to kill me? Or when you poisoned me?"
He flinched.
I lunged.
Our swords collided, sparks flying. Every strike I delivered was a scream from my soul. Betrayal. Pain. Rage.
"After everything!" I shouted between blows. "You could've come for my kingdom, for my crown, but no, you came for me! Was I a game to you, Adrian?"
"It's not what you think!" he shouted, blocking another swing. "I never..."
"Liar!"
He stumbled, I slashed, and my blade caught his arm. Blood splattered across the marble. He cried out, falling to one knee.
For a fleeting moment, my heart hesitated but I crushed it. He hadn't hesitated when he betrayed me.
I raised my sword again, but before it fell, a searing pain split across my back.
I turned sharply, Lucien.
He stood there, grinning like the devil himself. "No one survives my poison," he hissed. "But you, my dear wolf king… are persistent."
Rage consumed me. I forgot Adrian. All I saw was Lucien.
"Your head is mine" I muttered.
I roared, my body trembling, bones cracking, muscles expanding, armor tearing apart.
My transformation ripped through me, fur bursting, claws extending, fangs gleaming. The mark of the wolf king blazed on my chest. The chamber trembled with my howl.
Lucien stepped back, eyes wide now.
I lunged, claws slashing. He tried to parry, but my strength was no longer human. His blade shattered, his body thrown across the floor. Blood sprayed, the scent sharp and intoxicating.
He staggered to his knees, panting.
"You… don't know… what's coming," he spat.
I growled low, stepping closer. "I know your end is."
But before I could strike, a burst of light blinded me, bright, searing, unnatural.
When my vision cleared, Lucien was gone.
Adrian too.
The hall was empty, silent but for the crackle of flames.
I stood amidst the ruin, blood dripping from my claws.
"Bastards," I snarled.
My howl echoed through the palace, shaking the walls, drowning the night in fury.