Lycaon legacy

The scent of burning pine and copper-coarse blood was Accalia’s first real memory.She was only three years old, clutching a small, carved wooden wolf to her chest, when the heavy oak doors of the royal Lycaon palace were blasted off their hinges. The golden light of her family’s territory was choked out by thick, oily black smoke."Take her, Silas! Go!"Her mother’s voice—usually a soothing melody—shrieked with a desperate, terrifying finality. Accalia’s small green eyes widened as she watched her father, the Lycaon King, shift into his towering, majestic silver wolf form to meet a horde of dark, shadow wolves. Her mother bared her fangs and leaped into the fray right beside him.Before Accalia could cry out for them, a massive, scarred hand clamped gently but firmly over her mouth."Be silent, little princess," Silas whispered, his voice cracking with unshed tears. He was the commander of the Royal Guard. Beside him stood three of his most elite, sworn protectors.Accalia whimpered, watching over Silas’s broad shoulder as the invaders swarmed her parents. The last thing she saw before Silas bolted into the secret tunnels beneath the castle was the flash of a black blade, and the agonizing, final howls of the king and queen. The royal pack had fallen.

15 years later-

The bone snapping heat started in Accalia’s spine.Eighteen. The age of the First Shift. For most wolves in the Bloodmoon Pack, it was a night of celebration. For Accalia Lycaon, it was a trial by fire. She dropped to her hands and knees on the frozen earth, a gasp tearing from her throat as her ribs cracked, shifting and expanding to accommodate the massive sliver wolf fighting to get out."Stay focused, Accalia," a voice growled from the shadows of the pine trees. It was Silas, her personal protector and the only man who knew what she truly was. "The pack is watching. They expect the strongest she-wolf to lead the vanguard. They cannot see the princess."Accalia gritted her teeth, her vision blurring into a predatory infrared. She didn't want to be a princess. She had been trained to fight since she could walk, transforming her body into a weapon of muscle and lethal instinct. The throne of the Lycaon dynasty was a death sentence; the battleground was where she belonged.With a final, echoing roar, her transformation completed. She stood on four legs, a towering, silver-furred apex predator. Her green eyes swept the clearing.The shadow of the Alpha loomed over the pack circle. "Show us your strength, Lycaon!" he bellowed.Out from the trees stepped Kaelen, the pack’s heaviest enforcer. He bared his fangs, lunging straight for her throat. Accalia didn't flinch. She let her warrior training take over, dodging his massive jaws with supernatural speed. She struck like a whip, her claws raking across his flank, pinning the massive black wolf to the dirt in a single, fluid motion.A collective breath caught in the throat of the pack. She was faster. She was stronger.But as Kaelen submitted, the scent of burning silver hit Accalia's nose. Someone in the crowd wasn't just testing her strength—they were testing her blood. A rogue arrow flew from the tree line, tipped with pure, royal silver, tracking straight for her heart.