The Lycan Legends

Callista’s bedroom is typical for a five–year–old girl. There’s a dangerous amount of pink splashed all over the walls and the furniture, not to mention the near–constant unicorn motifs that are secreted all over the room. When they were decorating, Callista actually hid some unicorn stickers on the back of her headboard in the hopes of them giving her good dreams. They haven’t really worked one way or the other yet, at least not as far as Callista’s noticed.

In a few years, she’ll find them there and declare themselves far too childish for her teenaged self, and she’ll spend some time getting them off, before realizing that she actually quite likes them. They stay there, from that point onward.

Callista’s in bed at the moment. Her parents have tucked her in, and now the three of them are in the warm, cozy room together, feeling the almost physical strength of the warmth that is shared between them all.

Callista, as we just said, is in the bed. The covers are some of her least favorites, annoyingly, since they have designs with certain unicorns to whom she never took. Callista is distrustful of the purple unicorn on the fabric and does her level best not to look at her.

Callista’s mom, Nancy, is sitting next to Callista’s feet. The little bump in the covers is in just the right place to allow a parent to sit next to her, and Callista always tries to disguise the fact that she does this on purpose.

Nancy’s wearing some leggings and a baggy jumper – all the better to snugly tuck her daughter into bed. Her dark hair falls about her shoulders carelessly, and Nancy has long since forgotten to tie it up. Later, she’ll find the hair tie on the counter in the kitchen, and wonder why she put it there.

Nancy’s hand is against Callista’s cheek, gently stroking the soft skin there and telling her with the gesture and her eyes that she loves her now, always, and more than anything.

Callista’s dad, Samuel, is over by the bookcase at the moment. It’s bedtime, and he’s always believed that’s the time at which a child should be told stories. There’s not really anything good on the shelves, though, since either he or Nancy have read all of these tomes cover–to–cover a thousand times over in attempts to get Callista to sleep. It works, sometimes.

He’s wearing some faded blue jeans and a button–down shirt made from thick, worn fabric. It’s the kind of thing that he’s had for decades and only keeps around because it’s so dependable. He’s warm, comfortable, and the shirt itself does make him look pretty good.

He’s a chiseled man, with his jaw sharply angled from years of frowning at underlings. He smiles now, though, and the skin of his face gently creases in response to the gesture. His dark hair is cropped short – there’s enough to frame his face while being short enough to not be a hassle on busy days.

The room that they’re all stood in is a huge one for any child, let alone one that isn’t sharing with a sibling. The room is perfect thirty feet wide and long, with a huge window in one wall. On the other side of the window is a Juliet balcony, though they keep the door locked and shut – Callista is just mischievous enough to try to get out there.

The room’s walls and furniture are, by and large, pinker than pink. The only thing that isn’t is the woodwork – that’s all glossy white. Their decorator outright refused to paint wood any other color than white, and they didn’t really care enough to stop him.

The reason the room is huge is that the house itself is huge. Callista’s parents have worked long and hard for their entire lives to become alphas of two separate packs – together, they form a united block of wolves that is almost uncountable in number, and twice as strong.

The days have been long and hard, sometimes having to go weeks without seeing one another, and they did it all for the sake of their future. They knew that if they could just get to the top level of their packs, they would be able to pool their resources, and have a wonderful life.

So, Samuel, alpha of Moon Claw, and Nancy, alpha of Silver River, have built this incredible home brick by brick. The house itself is a monstrously huge building, made from red bricks and stone slabs to form magnificent windows and archways. There are three stories, in total, with each floor having more than enough rooms to house a small family.

Callista’s room is as far as possible away from the entrance hall of the home. It sits on the top floor, on the opposite side of the house from the door. Callista requested this specifically, for the sake of what she referred to as ‘night goblins’. Both her parents are fairly sure that no such thing exists, but they know the obvious security advantage of having their precious little girl as far away from the outside world as possible. They agreed to her demand, as they were always going to, and decorated this huge room accordingly.

Since that day, the three of them have spent hours in here. They’ve made the room more and more loving and kind over time, eventually coming to the state they’re at now. There are still hints of the original, crisp formality of the house underneath the decoration – the most obvious of which is the sharp lines of the marble window frame.

In front of the window, though, there’s a vaguely circular rug that has a thick pile of faux–fur, ideal for lying down in when stressed – according to Callista. Surrounding the rug, there are four child-sized chairs, each with a child-sized stuffed animal sitting in each of them.

Samuel takes his eyes away from the bookcase and looks over to the animals in the chairs for a moment. He swears that he once knew their names, but that he has no idea what they are now – there’s a revolving cast of cuddly toys, and he couldn’t possibly remember them all.

‘I’m not tired yet, though!’ Callista wails from the bed. Her mother glances over her shoulder at her father, and they share a grin between the two of them. Callista has never been the kind of child to simply do something because her parents told her to – instead, she’d wait for a good reason.

‘That’s as may be,’ Samuel says, ‘but we’ve done storytime now. You’ve had two! Now is the time for you to fall asleep, and your mother and I to go to our room and do the same.’

‘No, pleeeeease!’ Callista squirms as she says this, grabbing at her mother’s cardigan. She knows that her mother is a little more of a pushover when it comes to storytime and, besides, she knows all the best stories.

Samuel walks over to the bed and looks down at his daughter, who looks up at him with a cheeky smile and adorable puppy–dog eyes. It’s impossible to say no to that face. He smoothes her hair back from her forehead and brings his hand down to her cheek – kissing her on the forehead.

‘There will be one more story tonight, Callista – just one.’ he says, a grin twitching his lips up at the edges.

Callista nods her head fervently, and snuggles down into her sheets once more, tucking the blankets under her feet as she does. She’s always done this – citing a theory about tucking herself in being a brilliant idea. Neither of her parents has ever been too sure, but Callista seems to know what she’s talking about.

‘I’ve got one.’ Nancy says, rubbing her mate’s arm as he sits on the other side of their daughter’s legs.

‘Oh, this’ll be good!’ he says, opening his eyes extra wide and looking at Callista, who giggles in agreement.

Nancy clears her throat and begins to speak.

‘A long, long time ago – when I was a pup.’ she says, her voice smooth and rich like honey trickling down a scoop of ice cream. She ignores her husband’s choked laugh next to her and carries on. ‘I was told this story. It’s one of the truly old tales of Mythus, the wonderful island upon which we make our lives and love one another. My parents told me that their parents had told them this story, and so on, and so forth, back until the very first wolf that ever lived on Mythus.’ Nancy says, taking a breath. Callista is enraptured.

‘The wonderful island of Mythus is a blessed place, with every second of the year being blessed by the moon–mother on high. Our island is in the north of the world, and we have our fair share of seasons bought down upon us. There are the long, cold winters that we snuggle up against every year, and there are the short summers where mosquitoes see fit to descend in their thousands.’ Nancy says, her voice twinkling a little as she speaks of her homeland. She adores Mythus, and she will until the day she dies.

’That island so beset by winter and mosquitoes is Mythus – the land of the werewolves. The moon–mother made us, back in the days before there was anyone, and she made us strong, fast, and powerful. She loves her creation, and so she made us a beautiful home. We are blessed with towering mountains, deep valleys, and cool, fresh air all around. The land has plenty, and we are blessed to be a part of it.

‘All werewolves around the entire world come, originally, from Mythus. It may be that their great–great–grandfather left Mythus a hundred and one years ago, but the ichor of Mythus still runs through their veins. There is another type in the world with Mythus in their veins, though.’ Nancy says, her voice getting deeper now, as she introduces the part of the story that spooked her as a girl.

‘They are like us, though also not like us. They walk alongside us, but they will never live alongside us. The ones that I speak of, Callista, are the Lycans.’ Nancy pauses, and Samuel almost hears the ‘dun–dun–DUN’ in the air around them. ’The Lycan is a cursed cousin of the wolf. He is neither wolf nor man, instead, somewhere in between. He will never know the true freedom and honor of being a wolf, and neither will he know the life of a human, out there beyond Mythus.

‘In his immortality, a Lycan is doomed to wander the forests, plains, and mountains of Mythus for all time. Or, if he’s lucky until the moon–mother in her infinite wisdom and kindness sees fit to forgive him of his wicked sins.’ Nancy says, before feeling her husband gently nudge her in the ribs. She turns to look at him, and sees a concerned look on his face – he’s scared that she’s worrying the little one unnecessarily. Nancy had been concerned about this.

She turns to face Callista, who’s pulled the blankets up around her chin, her eyes are wide, and her mouth is a little open – she’s slack–jawed in amazement at the legend, and wants only to continue. For the sake of making sure, Nancy decides to ask her daughter.

‘Are you okay, sweetie? It’s not too scary?’ she asks, raising her eyebrows and her tone of voice a little to indicate the question.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay! Carry on the story!’ Callista says, nearly bursting with excitement as she does.

Nancy and Samuel smile together and look down at their sweet daughter. Nancy carries on with the tale.

’All Lycans out there in the wilds were once wolves. They stood tall and proud, their thick fur buffeted by the winds and their families and friends all around them. Then, one day, their heart turns black. Where the instrument of life sits in my chest and yours, their heart turns to coal despite the flesh around. They make horrible decisions, decisions that hurt people, and do harm to Mythus, despite its beauty and splendor.

’The first Lycan out there in the world has a name we know: Eamon. He was once a powerful and rugged alpha, belonging to a huge pack in the Northeast of the island. He was the first to do what your father and I did – uniting packs and bringing them together to make an unstoppable fighting force. He took over towns and towns in Mythus, and the moon–mother smiled on him. She knew that he had aspirations to unite the island and be like a god to everyone that lives on its shores. She knew that if he succeeded, he would see in an age of peace that would last for centuries. Instead, he did the unthinkable.

’On his rise to uniting the packs of the island, he and his mate were blessed with a wonderful pup. His mate was pregnant, and legend has it that he partied for days when he found out. He was overjoyed at the prospect of a pup, and he knew that it would mean his line would carry on through the ages.

’Eventually, the time came when his mate was ready to burst. She gave birth to the pup but, sadly, the little one died on its way into the world. The story tells that Eamon was furious about this. He looked at his mate and he was sure that it was her fault. ‘Why else’ he wondered, ‘would she survive while my child wouldn’t?’

’He thought about it long and hard, and only succeeded in making himself more and more furious. He wanted to have a lineage so badly, and he couldn’t have his mate around if she were unable to provide him pups. One horrid night, he killed his mate – his rage making his howls echo from his home to the moon and back. His mate’s death led to a nightmarish war. Her parents, you see, were alphas themselves. They had armies to back them up, and when they heard that their daughter had been killed, they marched against Eamon, wanting to make him pay for his horrible act.

‘The story tells that in one of the coming battles, Eamon was the last left on the battlefield. His fur and his armor were coated in blood and mud when all of a sudden a shining light fell upon him – the moon–mother had come to visit him!’

Callista gasps, and grips the sheets tighter.

’She told him that he was caused all of this horrible, unnecessary bloodshed and that he was the person who had caused the deaths of thousands of people. For the sadness and misery, he inflicted upon the world – he was made into the first Lycan. He would, forever, be immortal, mateless, and shunned by all of society. Under her glorious light, he twisted and cavorted until his wolf form was eternally changed – he was a disgusting monster, and he would remain so for all of the time.

‘The moon mother left him, then, and he was forced into solitude for his crimes. His people were glad to be rid of him, and over time, it was forgotten aside from the tale. Legend has it, little one, that he still walks among us. Eamon and the other Lycans are out there in the world and so is the moon–mother, stalking among the trees on nights of the full moon. If you’re lucky, my darling, you shall meet one of them one day, right here in Mythus!’ Nancy finishes, her voice swelling to fill the room as the tale draws to a close.

Samuel expects his daughter to be petrified out of her wits, but instead, he looks upon her and sees that his wife has ignited a powerful flame in her heart. This is a passion that won’t be extinguished for years – it’s something she’ll forever have a thirst to know more about.

Wide–eyed, Callista sits up and starts firing questions at her mother without any hesitation. ‘Where do the Lycans live? Where does the moon–mother live? Have you ever seen a Lycan?’ she asks, not waiting for answers to any of her questions.

Nancy stands and laughs gently to herself, easing her daughter back under the covers in a fluid motion. ‘You promised that you would sleep after I told you that story, now come on.’ she says, a smile on her face as she kisses her daughter’s cheek and smooths a stray hair by her right ear.

Callista nods, and snuggles down into the sheets, pulling the blankets high around herself and tucking her own feet in at the bottom of the bed. Her parents move toward the door, and Callista’s eyes flick open once more.

‘Mom?’ she asks, starting to get toasty in her little cocoon. ‘Will you tell me that story again tomorrow?’

‘I will.’ Nancy says, smiling at her daughter and feeling wet heat prick at her eyes. She never thought it would be possible to love this much, and yet here she is, close to crying over the sweetest girl she could ever wish for. ‘I’ll tell you tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that for as long as you might like, okay?’

‘Okay, mom.’ Callista says, with a smile. She flips onto her side and nuzzles down into the pillow, finally ready to sleep. Nancy and Samuel exchange a warm look, and they slowly and quietly make their way out of the door. They daren’t make any noise now, not when she’s about to fall asleep.

As the night wears on, Callista slowly drifts off to sleep, and, in turn, so do her parents. That story has lit a fire in Callista’s chest that neither of her parents could predict, and her life will forever be changed because of it.

They all dream of the moon–mother, that night.