~ The Moon Maiden's Wrath ~
LYKOS
The discomfort is great as the ropes around his neck and flanks are tightened by the campers assigned to make sure he remains restrained. There's only enough slack on the binds around his legs to allow Lykos to walk. His makeshift muzzler was left to remain around his snout, rendering him defenseless still. Saphira had protested against this, but her pleads were dismissed by Artemis with the promise that he would be freed after he had proven himself.
Prove himself… has he not done this enough?
He singlehandedly risked his life in more ways than one to charge into their camp and fight off the Boar. He left himself open and vulnerable when he stopped his attack on that girl with the swords. He let them subdue him without resisting, yet the goddess still has yet to believe in him.
Coming face to face with the Boar again after all this time had broken the seal on his mind, the subconscious wall that had shielded him from his own memories. He remembers so much more now, including where he was from… and what had happened to his home.
As well as the goddess responsible for everything, all the pain, the misery, the suffering he had endured for thousands of years, had stood before him again with the nerve to demand proof of his change. Now that he remembers what happened and why, he remembers the fury, the rage, and the hatred that he feels for the mood maiden, for the wrath she had unleashed on his home for no reason.
It was thousands of years ago… when he was still human, living in his home village in Calydon.
Fire and smoke overwhelmed the air. Children, wailing for their parents, stood alone in the streets, covered in filth. Some carried small dolls, but that did nothing to comfort, nothing to ease their terror and sorrows. Men and women were sobbing for the loss of loved ones, spouses and children. Others were screaming in agony, missing their severed limbs or clutching at their gored, trampled bodies. Homes lay in ruins, crushed, shattered, reduced to rubble.
Spyros lies sprawled over the debris on his side, feeling his very life bleeding out of the deep gash in his waist from where the monstrous Boar had gored him with its great tusk. Even as his senses begin to fade, he can hear the beast bellowing in the distance, splitting the air with its horrible squeal. Spyros' father soaks the ground nearby with blood… or at least, what's left of him. His mother is farther away, her body twisted in a sickening manner.
Spyros had been spending the afternoon with his childhood friends, when the Boar appeared to wreak havoc upon the village. It tore through the fields and their homes like a tornado, smashing and trampling everything in its path as an unstoppable force. The men who tried to fight it were simply torn apart or flung through the air like rag dolls, their bodies shattering when they came back to the earth. The Boar showed no mercy to anything. Women, children, and livestock were all massacred, slaughtered on sight.
Spyros had attempted to run home to his parents, fearing that his home would soon be ravaged as well. He burst into the house, ready to cry for his mother and father to hurry and flee with him to the city, but before he managed any words, the walls had exploded inwards. The only thing Spyros had time for was to hear the Boar's thunderous roar, and catch a glimpse of its hate-filled eyes before it attacked him.
Then, he heard the bloodcurdling screams of his parents, and his house fell apart around him. When the dust cleared, he found that he had been gored, and his parents' corpses that were now strewn amongst the rubble.
His wound is much too deep, the blood flowing much too rapidly for him to survive much longer. Despite this knowledge, Spyros tries to drag himself away, crawling over the debris, clawing at the blood-stained earth. Each movement makes him utter a feeble, agonized cry. His strength is quickly draining. His vision is fading. Blood loss and exhaustion threaten to overcome him.
Until finally, his entire world disappears from sight.
Hours later, as awakening from death itself, Spyros stirs. The moon now hangs full in the night sky above, as if it were an omen from the maiden huntress to remind the people of Calydon why she unleashed this horrible creature upon them. Spyros' vision is still much too foggy to make clear of anything around him. The small, dying fires that flicker around him do little to help him see.
His hearing still functions however.
At first, he's not sure if he's hallucinating from blood loss or trauma, or both, but he hears what he believes to the sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking, as well as a ruckus of growls and snarls. Struggling, he manages to drag himself enough to prop against a splintered piece of timber. He looks to where he had seen his father's corpse, and feels the little blood that remains in his body turn to ice at the sight of the pack of large, black, furry beasts that now feast on the meat.
Wolves.
Dozens of massive wolves, each one covered in shadowy fur, and harboring fiery, blood-red eyes that glow in the darkness, reflecting the firelight. They're all around him, devouring the carcasses that were left in plenty by the Boar's rampage. They snarl and tear meat from bone, and lick blood from their muzzles. Despite his fatigue, Spyros is still horrified by the sight. It wouldn't be long before they notice the meal in front of them that is still living, fresher than the carrion they now eat.
His fears were realized. A few of the wolves suddenly glance up at him with bared, bloody fangs and hungry stares. He's too weakened to even make an attempt to get away, too helpless to fight back. All he can do is drop his head back against the wood and pray for a swift end. The wolves begin to surround and descend upon him, their fangs looming over him, ready to rip him apart.
Only when they're mere inches away do the wolves suddenly recoil, reacting to the deep, rumbling snarl of one of their own. A new wolf now approaches, this one much taller and more powerful than the others. He stalks towards Spyros, scraping his claws over the ground with each slow step until he towers over him. Then, the wolf begins to change form, becoming a tall, scowling man with a cloak of various pelts. He narrows his eyes, kneeling down to grasp Spyros' shoulder.
"He has survived, but not for much longer. Strong, this one is," the man muses. Spyros can barely manage to lift his head to look at him.
"Fear not, my boy, for fortune smiles upon you tonight. The King of the Wolves, will now grant you mercy and life," he sneers before standing back up to address the wolves.
"Gift him with the curse of Lycaon."
Lykos' memories are interrupted by a small hand brushing over his shoulder. He lifts his gaze to Saphira's, seeing that she has fallen in step alongside him. Her touch is soothing, like its sweeping away all his negative emotions and replacing it with just peace. She continues to entangle her fingers into his fur, paying no mind to the campers and Hunters that march on either side of them, staring at her like she dropped out of the sky. She doesn't seem to care at all, remaining right beside him.
"I'm so sorry," she murmurs quietly, gazing at him with sadness and apology. "For this horrible mess."
Lykos sighs through his nose and turns his head as much as he can towards her despite the ropes around his neck. What does she have to be sorry for? He chose to come to her of his own will. Gently, he nudges her with his muzzle.
"How can you dare to be so close to him?"
A second girl's voice interrupts Saphira's caresses. Lykos narrows his eyes to glare at the girl, the same one who had charged him with the swords and who Saphira had stopped him from killing. This one isn't like Chloe… she looks at him with like she would look at a venomous snake, with disdain and distrust.
"He's not dangerous, Xenia" Saphira replies. "Not to me, or to anyone. He protected me."
Xenia frowns at her first, then down at him. "Then why does he look us in that way?"
"How would you look at someone who just tried behead you?"
Saphira holds the other Hunter's gaze with her own without backing down, until finally, Xenia surrenders and moves away from them. Not a moment too soon, as they break the tree-line to step into the open snowy plains of the elk grounds. Less than a mile across, are the tall, jagged mountains in which his brethren lie in wait. The sun is already starting to drift towards the horizon, and the little light that they had slowly begins to fade. As if that wasn't enough, the winds are also beginning to pick up, and Lykos senses another blizzard to be on the way.
This is the moment he had been dreading, the reason why he never wanted to bring Saphira here in the first place. Within that mountain, are hundreds of his bloodthirsty kin, waiting to maul and devour every Hunter and camper here… and Lykos won't be able to stop them.
