Raziela
The Lycan Kingdom.
The place we only ever whispered about around dying fires, like children telling ghost stories. Only… they weren’t stories. They were warnings. Legends carved into the bones of every pack. Mothers used it to frighten disobedient pups. It was the land beyond the mountains where no mercy lived.
No werewolf crossed into the Lycan Kingdom and came back.
It was said to be cursed. That the air itself twisted your mind if you stayed too long. That the wolves there had claws like blades and drank blood like wine. It was where the mad King lived—the beast with a crown. A man born of war and raised on the howls of his enemies. I had heard rumors that he didn’t shift like the rest of us—that he became something else entirely. Something ancient. Something wrong.
My p
