Bound To The Cursed Lycan King

Departure

RICHMOND’S POV.

I try to open my eyes, the distant murmur of voices reaching me. But, my eyelids are too heavy as though they are being forced down. My head pounds like a thousand needles, the spear of pain, just below my head, almost too much to bear.

I force myself to my arm slowly but the more I move, the more the pain spreads, conquering my full body. A soft gasp escapes my lips. I pause, focusing on the deep, rhythmic breathing of my heart as if it’ll help me make sense of anything. What is going on? Have I been drugged again?

For months now, this is how I have been — drugged and confined to my four-poster bed to help ease my tantrums. According to my mother, I am a danger to myself and to the people around me. I try to focus on my surroundings even though my eyes are closed, but my mind refuses to cooperate with me. My thoughts are far away.

No one except my family and the countless doctors who have tried their best to treat me are allowed to come within a mile radius from me. Seven months ago, my parents had found out that I was suffering from a generational curse which led me to experience random episodes of madness, characterised by fits of anger, excitement, and loss of control.

Only sedatives could manage to calm and give me relief, but even the relief was temporary. I can vividly recall every detail of the day they had broken the news to me, my mind relieving it all over again.

The air smelled of flowers and baked goods, but my mother appeared not to notice, hands clasped on her laps and face tightened with worry as though afraid I would pounce on her and rip her to shreds with my teeth. I wouldn’t dare.

My father sat beside her, an arm around his wife’s shoulder, a silent show of support for his mate. His expression was stoically indifferent, but I could feel his heartbeat steadily rising in his chest.

They exchanged worried glances before turning to me. My mother was the first to speak and I sat straighter, a knot of anxiety forming in the pit of my stomach. I inwardly fidgeted, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

“W–We have… consulted the moon priestess about your condition and she has revealed to us that you’re a cursed Lycan,” my mother stammered.

For a moment, I could feel my heart stop functioning. The weight of her words sliced through me like a hot knife through butter. I blinked my eyes a few times in surprise, processing the information. But, it didn’t make any sense to me. I was cursed? Why? What exactly had I done to deserve such?

“What do you mean? What is wrong with me?” I forced myself to ask, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. My stomach twisted painfully, my mind reeling with despair.

“The treatment will commence immediately, but I don’t know if it will work,” my mother continued, ignoring my questions.

“Still, we have to try. Don’t we?” Her voice broke, filled with sympathy for me.

Her face contorts in anguish and she leans into my father, sapping some of his strength. His presence might be oddly reassuring but it did nothing to calm the turbulent emotions running through me. The information was difficult to digest and I felt like my head would explode. I was diseased? How could that be?

Before I had time to process my thoughts, two men in white lab coats stepped out from behind me as if they had been waiting all along. My inner-wolf grew agitated the second I saw them, rage clouding my mind.

I moved away, wanting to escape, but they were quick and they grabbed me, dragging me to my feet. I wrestled against their hold, a strangled moan slipping past my lips. The last thing I saw before darkness overcame me was my mother breaking down in tears, and my father consoling her.

I shake my head, clearing those images from my mind – angry at myself for dwelling on such. I don’t need to be pondering on old memories and dark thoughts. The past should remain where it is — in the past. The voices are clearer now, more distinct and my brain picks up on one in particular. I know that voice anywhere. It belongs to my mother, the Queen. She must be speaking with the doctor.

“We have to find a solution to this problem, once and for all. We have tried all we could and even to prevent Richmond from harming himself. I’m afraid his episodes are becoming too frequent nowadays and I’m not sure how much longer we have to find the moon wolf who will be able to cure him,” she whispers in hushed tones.

“I don’t know… The best thing we can do is to increase the reward for finding the moon wolf. So, whoever is out there will be more motivated to do the job.”

“Hmm..” My mother says, seemingly in thought. I swallow the bulge in my throat, the sedative dulling my senses.

“She’s our only hope right now, our last shot at saving my son. Her powers alone can lift the curse. I just hope it is not too late to redeem him.”

My fingers itch and I can feel my mother’s gaze burning through me, leaving me torn, tormented. Even though my eyes are scrunched close, the corners prick with tears once more and I fight the urge to let it all out. I’m exhausted from everything.

The past couple of days have been torturous, I can’t help feeling like nothing but a burden to my parents. They have done all they can to improve my condition and yet, I still feel like a rotten vegetable. Soon, death will be at my door.

I can’t continue to sit around, waiting for my savior to come. I have to take matters into my hands and seize control of my life for the first time since everything fell apart. My fate is tied to the elusive moon wolf and without her, I have no salvation.

I stay put until I hear the soft click of the door and the sound of departing footsteps before I open my eyes, my gaze crawling up to the slowly spinning fan. I know what I have to do.