The Half-Blood (Book 1)

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Prologue

Alaric’s boots were muddy with every step. On a dark afternoon, the incessant rain heralded the last battle of this war for the lycanthrope throne. In the distance, he saw the shadows of those beings.

The moment had come. With one pull, he tore off his shirt, and his soldiers followed his movements. The sound of hundreds of bones breaking in unison was the only thing that accompanied the deluge that fell angrily from the skies. This had to be the final battle, Alaric thought. Many of his soldiers perished because of his mistake, all because of his lust and passion. All because of her.

She, the woman who blinded him and nearly drove him mad with jealousy. She was there in the front line, on the other side and with a devilish gaze fixed on him.

Just by looking at her, Alaric felt weak again, weak with her, but he promised himself that he would not make the same mistake this time. His eyes registered the precise moment when she raised her hands. Her lips moved, casting a spell. Within seconds, thunderous lightning began to descend from the clouds, one more powerful than the last.

Although he was aware that today many of his warriors would die, he had faith that today would be the last time. The lycanthrope race was one of the strongest of all, but it could be the weakest if faced with a large group of creatures with the ability to conjure almost any spell. And that was precisely what caused the loss of many of his men in the first place. But this time, it would be different because this time, Alaric decided to use the power of his enemy to his advantage, making the lycanthropic race almost invincible.

A mighty roar filled the whole place. It was the signal. Hundreds of his soldiers and hundreds of her followers rushed to fight the final battle. Alaric opened the communication link to all his soldiers. “She is mine.”

The enemy attacked effortlessly. He could see that they were barely touching the ground.

Soon Alaric’s loyal soldiers and the traitor’s army were fighting each other. This time it would not be like the other times. This time, he used the weapons of his enemies against themselves. He tore apart every creature, every scum he saw in his path. Seeing how many of them were surprised by the sudden change in his warriors. Watching as the lycanthropes used the same weapon as many of them.

To win this war, Alaric had no choice but to seek the favor of one of these now despicable creatures.

Amidst blood and spells, he saw her. The face he once thought was perfect now wore a tight, cruel smile. She knew the effect she was having on him: his love, his love that had now turned to hate. A hatred that still did not erase her beauty from his mind.

However, memories of the attack on the kingdom a year ago flashed through his memory. Hundreds of bodies strewn across the halls of the castle were all he could think of when he saw her. How could she do this to him? How could she betray him like this? He would have given anything to be with her. Even give up the idea of finding his true mate.

Alaric roared with all his might and rushed at her. She moved quickly, blocking every blow he threw at her. He grunted at the sudden pain he felt in his right shoulder. She had used a silver dagger. It was the Templar dagger with blue rubies embedded in it.

It was the same one he had given her at a time when he thought he was happy. The gift represented the love and trust he felt for her.

The dagger was one of Alaric’s most prized possessions. Now he regretted having given it as a gift.

Rain and thunder continued to flood the battlefield. He tried to attack her neck, but she dodged every time. When she lunged at him with her dagger to bury it in his chest, he blocked the thrust in time, turning quickly and, with the strength of his dark paws, pushed her to the filthy ground. She looked straight into his red eyes as he cornered her with his claws. Her eyes glared at him with contempt and abhorrence, something that pained him to the core. At one point, he thought about sparing her life, but as soon as he heard the faint whisper of her voice, he knew it was now or never.

Its long, deadly canines pressed hard into her neck, ripping the flesh and skin from her neck. His sight was blinded by rage. As the life escaped her eyes, Alaric howled in agony to the world. The war was slowly coming to an end. The survivors began to retreat, but there were instructions from him to leave no one alive. All were to die. Now in his human form, he lifted her lifeless body, his beloved, his murderer, the woman who never loved him and betrayed him into his arms.

The rain had stopped. A primitive bonfire was prepared. And he laid the body on top of the branches and pieces of trees piled together. Now he had to burn it to ensure that she would never return to this world. Alaric and his warriors surrounded the blazing bonfire.

Everyone could feel his emotions: the pain, the anger, the disappointment, and finally, a sense of relief.

The smoke from the bonfire intensified. And soon, the smell of burning flesh would punish their lungs. Seconds passed, and the air became different. Charged with darkness.

Everyone was on alert again. Alaric looked around, searching for the threatener.

The wind suddenly began to blow hard. Everyone was trying to stand their ground. But the blowing wind was so violent that the soldiers could barely stand. Alaric watched as the fire died. A dark shadow descended out of nowhere, covering the entire pyre and taking her lifeless body with it. When the shadow disappeared, everyone felt the calmness of the wind. They all gasped when they saw that the woman’s body was not there. Alaric sighed, looking up at the sky. Maybe, he thought for a moment, he should chase the damned soul. But he was tired. He needed to go back and rebuild his ruined kingdom. After all, and finally, she was dead.

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