Page 3 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
My brothers and I fight with everything we have to free Zirah from her chains, but our attempts don’t work, and our strength is waning. Our bodies are succumbing to the poison coursing through our veins, and the pain of burning is becoming all-consuming. We’re running out of time, and my desperation grows more frantic with each passing second.
The witches' voices ring with the finality of a death I’m willing to endure at her side. I can feel the power in the air, the storm above us raging with a ferocity that mirrors my anguish.
Zirah’s teary eyes meet mine one last time with a look of determination shining through the pain, and I realize who I am looking at . . .
I am staring into the eyes of Litha.
She screams. It’s like a shock wave when she blasts us back with insurmountable power.
“No!” I choke as the air leaves my lungs, and I find myself staring up at the stormy sky. Sitting up, I gasp as the flames engulf her.
A woman steps out of the crowd. Her hands glow like beacons in the night as she walks toward Zirah’s burning form. Her graying hair flows freely in the wind like a veil behind her, and her eyes burn with a ferocity that matches the fire.
“And from the flames, an oracle is born.
The last female lycan.
Your true queen.”
As the final words of the chant echo through the night, I feel a sudden surge of energy. The air crackles with magic and power. The storm above us reaches its peak. The wind howls, and the sky cracks, unleashing a torrential downpour.
In this moment, as Zirah’s body is consumed by the flames, I know exactly who I am looking at.
The baby my mother helped me save. The girl I’ve been hunting for years. The true Queen of the High Kingdom. Litha’s daughter. Our mate.
Blue flames encase her, so hot the ground heats and steam rises. The flames seem to reach through to the clouds, and all hell breaks loose.
Charisse, her grandmother, a woman I haven’t seen since the day I helped her escape, utters a chant and speaks in a voice that resonates with ancient power.
“A queen of virtues that rings true, but make no mistake, she no longer bows to you.”
The old woman’s chants grow louder, and I can only watch in horror at what I’m witnessing.
“In the face of sacrifice, the truth of destiny shall reveal itself.”
Charisse raises her arms, and a smile graces her lips just before a bolt of lightning strikes her down.
Darkness consumes everyone. The only light emanates from the burning blue flames that flicker in the distance, and then slowly, even they are consumed by the rain.
As the storm dissipates, the moon shines with an intensity I’ve never seen before, casting its silvery glow upon us all.
Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the pillar, now reduced to flaming rubble and white ash that resembles snow. I choke on the sob rising in my throat. She is gone. We killed her. We killed our only chance, killed our mate.
Zeke wails, and I see Gnash, Hunter, and Shadow howl in anguish as they lay on their stomachs, and my soul feels like it’s cracking as I hang my head and sob. Time seems to stop around me, and the silence is deafening when murmurs break out, making me lift my head.
From the ashes, Zirah emerges. Her naked form is illuminated by the runes shining like beacons in the night. I gasp at the sight. There’s an ethereal aura surrounding her as she steps forward, and her runes glow like the blue flames that I thought killed her.
Just below her neck, a column of runes sits stacked, one on top of the other like a totem pole seared into her flesh. Starting from her throat and traveling down: the eye rune, the star rune on her sternum, the wave rune, and below that, the runes for air, fire, and earth. The moon rune sits just above her belly button. Lastly, on her pubic bone, the rings rune, which I can’t seem to take my eyes off. Interlocking rings symbolize connection, unity, and partnership.
We thought she was an unwanted mate, but now I realize we are.
Whispers and gasps fill the air. The gathered crowd is awestruck by the sight of their true queen.
My father’s shock is palpable as she stands before us, her dark hair cascading down her back, and her skin untouched by the flames that engulfed her moments before. She looks like a goddess, her beauty radiating from within. Her eyes burn with intensity, her face a mask of fury, and I can almost feel the power emanating from her body. Her posture is regal, as if she has been born and made from the very flames that awoke her.
“But the curse . . . It said the oracle?” my father whispers as he watches the scene unfold.
“You’re looking at her,” Kelly snarls at him.
