Sovereign Sins⁠

The scent of copper and fresh rain always smelled like victory to me. I stood motionless on the obsidian ledge, my charcoal coat barely moving in the freezing night breeze. Below me, the forest floor was soaked in crimson. A foolish pack of rogue wolves had crossed into my territory, and my elite vampire guard was making quick work of slaughtering them. I didn't need to draw my sword. My mere presence—a suffocating, ancient aura that pressed heavy against the air—was enough to keep the weak on their knees. To me, war was simply a game of chess. I was the king, and I never lost. Until the sound of splintering ancient pine trees shattered the night. A massive, shadowy form tore through the treeline at a speed that defied logic. It was moving with pure, unadulterated destruction. Bones snapped, snarls ripped through the canyon, and within seconds, three of my best guards were thrown across the dirt like broken ragdolls. The beast shifted mid-stride, hitting the muddy ground on two feet as the fur and claws receded. Lyall. He stood there dripping in sweat and blood, his chest heaving, those ridiculous golden eyes glowing furiously in the darkness. He wasn't wearing royal armor. He wore battered battle leather, his thick arms corded with muscle and fresh claw marks. He was reckless. He was loud. He was completely out of his mind. "Blade!" Lyall’s voice boomed through the ravine, rough and deep, making the air crackle with raw power. He didn't care that he was surrounded by twenty of my deadliest soldiers. He pointed a clawed, bleeding finger straight up at my ledge. "Get down here, you pale bastard!" A slow, dark smirk curled my lips. I stepped off the edge, falling thirty feet and landing silently on the balls of my feet, letting my dark aura flare up to crush his wild, suffocating pressure. "You never did learn how to knock, Lyall," I purred, closing the distance between us with deliberate, elegant steps. "Crossing my border again? You're becoming predictable, little beast." In a fraction of a second, Lyall closed the gap. He threw a brutal right hook aimed straight for my jaw. I ducked beneath it, the air whistling past my ear, and rammed my knee into his ribs. Lyall roared, barely flinching, and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me back hard against the rough bark of a pine tree. The impact rattled the trunk, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of showing pain. I wrapped my hand tightly around his wrist, digging my claws into his skin until dark blood welled beneath my grip. "I don't play your little mind games, Blade!" Lyall growled, his scalding breath fanning over my cold skin. The heat radiating off him was like a furnace against my natural chill. "Your scouts executed three of my omega pups on the southern trail. You want a war? Because I will burn your blood-palace to the ground!" "Careful," I whispered, forcing a dark chuckle as I twisted his arm and shoved him backward. "You rush into my woods throwing threats, yet you can barely hold your ground." Lyall lunged at me again, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl. We clashed in the middle of the clearing—a brutal blur of fangs, claws, and dark magic. I landed a heavy strike against his chest, sending him skidding back into the dirt, but he bounded right back to his feet like a bloodthirsty monster. Neither of us got to finish it. "Your Majesty! King Lyall, retreat!" A loud shout echoed from the dense trees as three werewolf enforcers burst through the brush, their claws drawn as they fought off my surrounding guards. "Sire, we are completely outnumbered!" his chief warrior yelled, frantically trying to form a perimeter around Lyall. "Vampire reinforcements are coming from the northern ridge! We have to pull back now—we cannot lose you!" "Get off me!" Lyall spat, shoving one of his own men away as they tried to drag him back. His golden eyes were wide, burning with pure rage as he glared at me over his guard's shoulder. "I'm not done with him!" "My King, please!" the warrior begged, grabbing Lyall's shoulder tight. "It's a trap!" I straightened my coat, dusting off the bark and dirt with dark amusement. "Listen to your dogs, Lyall," I taunted smoothly, tilting my head. "Run back to your pack before I decide to keep your head as a trophy." Lyall's chest heaved violently. I could see the bitter humiliation burning in his eyes—the absolute agony of being forced to retreat like a coward in front of his worst enemy. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the grass at my feet, his claws digging so deep into his palms that his own blood dripped to the soil. "This isn't over, Blade," Lyall snarled, his voice laced with pure venom. "I will tear you apart." With a final, furious glare, Lyall turned on his heel and bounded into the shadowy treeline with his men, vanishing into the night.