Vireya's POV
How fast does it take to ruin your life? In my case, one hour. In one hour, everyone I knew was dead. In one hour, I lost the place I called home. In one hour...I ended up here.
In the darkness of the cell, I can't see anything, not even my hands held up in front of me. I felt everything. My family's blood dried into my hair, skin and clothes. The rats scuttling around my feet. The slimy feeling on my back, one I'm praying isn't a snake.
I had no idea it was like this outside the castle. Cold and dark and filthy.
How many days has it been? I can't tell. Three? Five? A week or two?
My eighteenth birthday was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. The day I finally get crowned Princess Vireya of the Hunter Packs. I was going to have a huge party, invite all the hunters, and finally taste some wine for the first time ever.
Instead, I watched my family get slaughtered by them.
Lycans. Those vile, disgusting creatures who know nothing but murder and chaos.
It was all my fault. If only I had kept watch on the barrier like father asked me to. If only I didn't get swept away by the celebrations that I forgot to be careful. If only I was a powerful hunter, strong enough to kill lycans and defend my family.
I've exhausted my tears. I've said every prayer to the moon goddess. I've screamed my throat raw, screaming for help.
Right now, I would sell my soul for a hot bath.
A sound registers from outside. It sounds like keys jangling together. Someone speaks, a soft, glib tone that I can't place of its a man or a woman.
"Benan! Oh, dear Maellys! You didn't remind me about the gift!" The voice exclaimed. I think they meant to sound shocked and annoyed, but they couldn't put their emotions into their voice.
"My apologies, my lord. I presumed it was your wish for it to die here." A gruff male voice spoke.
"Hurry. Open the gates. The banquet is in full swing now." The other person said.
My limbs felt heavy, yet I tried to push myself deeper into the wall. I couldn't even use my soul magic, my body far too weak to attempt.
The doors to the dungeon cracked open. Warm light flooded inside. It was the first light I'd seen in days. It burned my eyes, so much that I had to squint and turn my weary head away.
"Oh! You're alive!"
A cold presence filled the cell, the sharp tang of winter, laced with thorns under it. I felt their presence before I saw their face.
A Lycan.
It was impossible to miss one. The very air shifted to accommodate them. Once they stepped in, you felt the evil deep in your bones. They couldn't hide their presence like us werewolves.
The Lycan glided over to me and crouched down. Cold, slender fingers grabbed my chin, lifting my head up to meet their eyes.
His eyes.
A gasp caught in my throat.
I'd heard accounts of Lycans. The books had paintings and depictions of them. They were easy to spot, with their unnatural heights and their slender bodies, but most especially —
Their horns.
This Lycan was the most beautiful one I'd ever seen.
He had a slim face, with delicate features that bordered on feminine, a kind looking mouth, and eyes that looked like harsh winter. Long pale red hair fell over his shoulders, all the way down to his waist. And his horns. They were slender, pale blue and glowing, adorned with blood red gems and silver, the same gems that dangled from his ears. He was dressed strangely, in flowing silk robes and fur lined coats.
He looked gentle, a sharp contrast to the terrifying looks lycans always had in the history books.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his head tilting to the side. "Can you walk?"
The question caught me off guard.
A Lycan is asking about my wellbeing? What is he trying to do now?
He laughed, a light breezy sound. "Right. You don't have the energy to speak, is that so?"
My heart started to race.
I don't like this.
Why isn't he being violent? Why isn't he like those lycans who had killed my family? Why is he smiling at me?!
He picked me up like I weighed nothing more than a feather. I made a sound of discomfort, pushing him away with whatever little strength I had left.
He carried me and walked out of the cell, oblivious to my struggles. I doubt he even felt them.
I hated this.
His body was cold, like a corpse. Even through the layers of his clothing I could feel the chill.
"Don't worry, little hunter," He said, glancing down at me. "I'm not going to hurt you."
My heart jumped into my mouth. There it is. That terrifying look that lycans are known for. He's smiling, but none of it reached his eyes.
He won't hurt me, he says. But Lycans do more than hurt people. Especially female werewolves they capture.
Oh goddess! What have I gotten into?
The thought dawned on me. A painful realisation.
I'm going to die.