His Lycan Princess | 18+

In the dimly lit chamber, I stood before the tarnished mirror, gazing at my bewildered reflection in complete and utter disbelief. My heart pounded in my chest as I scrutinized the image before me. I couldn't fathom how absurd I looked, how ridiculous I felt in this attire. Was this truly me? It couldn’t be! Could it? Draped over my shoulders was a rich, scarlet cloak the color of blood, a symbol of tradition that bore down on me like a devastating burden ready to crush me. Beneath it, a thin, nearly sheer undergown clung to my form, exposing much more than it covered, making my skin prickle with unease. It was the ceremonial garment that adhered to the rigid expectations of our abbess and the age-old custom that awaited me tonight. This was the night of the Blood Moon, a night that held a purpose both sacred and terrifying. Our little village of Slevoria, nestled deep within the embrace of ancient trees, had survived for generations under the watchful gaze of the wolves that prowled our woods. A pact, born of necessity, bound us to them—a pact that required an offering, a sacrifice. Every year, the ritual unfolded. Every year, twelve virgins were chosen, their names drawn by the hand of Slevoria’s revered abbess. Twelve girls would venture into the heart of the forest, cloaked in uncertainty, with only their lanterns to guide them. The wolves awaited there, ready to fulfill their own primal desires and, in turn, protect us from the monstrous creatures that prowled the fringes of our existence. Would I be one of the twelve chosen? And if I did, what would that choice mean? Surrendering to the darkness, losing all hope, leaving my family behind, my home, and all that I ever held dear. It would mean losing all that made me who I was. Forsaking all that was good; the love, the friendship, the safety, and the warmth, the care, the laugher, and the light. And for what? What dreadful fate awaited? Ever since I could remember the Slevorian folk would speak in hushed whispers about the creatures in the forest, those who killed our men and tormented the women and the children, bemiring our once peaceful village in a swamp of desperation and self-pity. We were left at the mercy of the heartless and the cruel. The inhuman. All we could do was raise our walls and hide in our sanctuaries, our chapels and our abbeys, praying to a God who had long forgotten our existence, begging, hoping we’d live to see another day. The raids were often, the attacks of the forest terrors who’d torture, slaughter, and rape anyone in their way, a common occurrence. And then the wolves came. The pact was forged. And so, an unexpected truce was made. To maintain it, our Selvorian women had to sacrifice their daughters and granddaughters, their promise of the future. And that was the worst form of death I could imagine. The death of hope. Would my mother mourn me tonight? Would my grandmother’s old heart ache for me? The door at the other side of my chamber opened with a solemn creaking and my mother trudged in. It was as if she had sensed my need for her, and that need had summoned her to me. She knew me the way only a mother could. I looked at her through the mirror and swallowed hard. Contrary to what I expected, the sight of her wasn’t comforting at all. My mother's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she came to stand behind me and adjusted the cloak around my shoulders. She was devastated, unwilling to let her only daughter go. How wrongful it must have felt for her to go through the pains of childbirth, to push, and cry, and be torn in two to bring me –her only daughter– to life, only to sacrifice me in one fateful moment to do her part in an agreement someone else had signed with the Devil! My name could be drawn by the abbess in the square at midnight, and if that happened, I’d have to walk into the forest, never to return. Taken by the wolves. My mother sighed –it was a deep, fatigued breath. I could see the pain etched across her face, her fear for me palpable in every trembling touch. I turned to face her. “It’s going to be okay, momma.” She gave me a sad smile. “Such a big heart you’ve got, daughter of mine.” Her calloused hand laid a gentle caress on my cheek. “Offering me solace, even when everything inside you is going through a tempest. What will I do if they take you from me, huh?” “Patience!” Grandma entered, looking way more composed than my mother ever could. She was the matriarch of our family, hiding her emotions behind a veil of strength. “That daughter of yours is every bit as feisty, tenacious, opinionated, and brazen as me. Even the wolves won’t stand her. She’ll be back before you know it.” “Hey,” I snapped, biting my lower lip to suppress a smile. “I am not brazen!” “Oh, you are dear child, you are,” she retorted. “Every bad quality I have, you have inherited. At least, you took my hips too.” She patted her thighs pompously. Her words cut through the sorrow that had settled in the room. “That’s something.” She winked. “Welcome, by the way.” Grandmother’s teasing wasn’t enough to light my mother’s bleak mood. “Not the time for jesting,” she scowled. “And what would you have me do?” said grandmother. “Weep like you always do? Had you heard me, there would be no need for weeping now.” That caught my attention. “Heard you how?” Mother took a sharp step, standing prohibitively between me and grandmother. “Don’t.” Her frail posture was suddenly replaced by a far more assertive stance, as if she had mustered all her courage to stop what was about to unravel. Grandmother kept her head held high, defiant as always. “She has the right to know, Annika. Now more than ever.” “Tell me,” I prompted her. A moment of silence followed, as two generations of Slevorian women clashed in a glaring competition. All the while, I was left conflicted, wondering what my grandmother wanted to share with me, what my mother was concealing from me. What were they hiding? Mother lowered her head, defeated. Grandmother walked around her to get to me. “There is a family secret running in our bloodline, Celine. A secret that is your inheritance.” I drew my brows together. “I – I don’t understand.” Grandmother placed her hands on my shoulders and she shook as if to wake me up. “My fat ass is not the only asset I have passed down on you, see.” “Mother!” my own mother chimed in. “A woman your age shouldn’t be using words like a–” “Save it,” said grandmother dismissively. “I never concerned myself with what a woman should do, much less one my age.” I looked into the grey depths of my grandmother’s eyes. They were daring and bright, brilliant like stormy skies. My mother had those eyes. I had them. What secret did they hold? “Tell me,” I demanded, claiming what she said was my birthright. Grandmother nodded. “You are a huntress, Celine.” I blinked. “A what?” Somehow, the explanation my grandmother offered, ended up confusing me even more. “I'm a what? I can't even hit a slug with a slingshot. Huntress, you say. What does that even mean?” My mother ran her fingers through her auburn hair as if she was seriously considering pulling every single piece of it out. “I can’t believe you told her.” She sounded full of frustration and regret. “I can’t believe you didn’t, Annika,” grandmother scolded her, her voice edged with urgency. “Not when it could save her life.” “End it, you mean. Living like a huntress would only get her killed. Leaving everything to fate and hoping her name won’t get drawn surely has better survival prospects.” “Does it?” “It does!” “Can you stop talking about me like I am not even here?” I burst out, my distress mounting. These were possibly the last moments we had together, and all we did was waste our precious time left arguing and speaking in riddles. I could barely stand it. “Please,” I added. “Yes, Celine,” mother relented. “You’re right,” admitted grandmother. She reached into the folds of her skirt and produced a silver dagger, its hilt adorned with ancient symbols. I stared at the weapon, my eyes wide with surprise and intrigue. "What is this?" She grasped my hand and placed the dagger into it. "We come from a long line of huntresses, dear. For generations, we've hidden our true legacy. Our ancestors, they were the ones who protected this village, not the wolves. When our men were killed by the forest devils, a few brave women left behind came together to create a covenant, an army. They kept Slevoria safe. For a while.” “What happened to them?” “They died off,” said mother. “All the attacks, the raids, the war left only a handful of them behind. They were not enough to fight off the enemy, and so, the wolves took their place safekeeping the land.” The revelation hit me like a lightning bolt, shattering the world I thought I knew. My mother’s confession left me feeling adrift, a sense of betrayal mingling with confusion. “But if that is who I am, why didn’t you ever tell me?” “To be a huntress is a perilous destiny, daughter of mine,” mother explained. Grandmother shook her head. “Not more perilous than walking into the forest alone on the night of the blood moon.” My mother walked to me and took my hand in hers tenderly. “You have to understand, I only ever wanted what’s best for you.” “That much I cannot argue with,” said grandmother and placed the weapon in my other hand. “Here, take it. This dagger is the key to ending our servitude." My mind raced with questions as I held the silver blade. "Ending our servitude to… the wolves? How?" Grandma's voice was tinged with resolve. "The legend speaks of the Lycan King, Bane. He's the one who rules over the wolves, the one who keeps them at bay. If you find him, and if you're forced to offer yourself to him, you must use this dagger to bury it in his heart. It's the only way to break the pact and release us from their dominion. This is the only way to ensure no more innocent girls will be taken from their families.” “But with the wolves gone, who will fight the other monsters in the forest?” “We could teach our young the ways of our ancestors. We could make a new generation of huntresses to defend Slevoria. But we have to reclaim our freedom, and it starts tonight. With you.” The gravity of her words sank in, and I nodded, clutching the silver dagger in my trembling hand. My night, it seemed, was far more complex and dangerous than I could ever have predicted. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the ominous call of the nuns echoed through the streets. They’d move from door to door, knocking and ordering for the daughters of each family to follow them all the way to the square, where the abbess awaited. Soon, my time came. They appeared on our doorstep like pale ghosts, wearing black wimples and somber expressions that left no room for refusals. None could escape them. Mother whimpered, and grandmother sighed, as they both leaned in and held me in their sweet embrace. We stayed like that, huddled together, for a moment that didn’t feel nearly enough. God, was I going to miss them! “Take heart, daughter of mine,” whispered my mother in my ear, before she placed a brief kiss there. “Take heart,” repeated my grandmother. “And then stab that fleabag in the heart, daughter of my daughter. You do that for me.” “I love you,” was all I managed to utter, as I hid the dagger in a pocket under my cloak and stepped outside. The Blood Moon had risen, and I knew my life would never be the same again.