Warrior of the Damned

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18

Marek snapped his head to the disgruntled werewolves. His eyes frantically moving back and forth, scanning the room. "Whats happening?" I whispered, nervously.

They were restless. A combination of barks, howls, whines and growls were echoing off the walls of the Great Hall. Some were snarling and snapping at each other.

My eyes landed on the white one with the black patch. He stood motionless among the agitated clans. He was staring at us.

It seemed calculating.

Marek finally spoke, "Apparently there has been a shift in loyalty," his brow was furrowed in concern, "Aiden was not the pack leader but his ability to shift was their advantage to executing their ultimate objective. Now that he is dead, some clans think its fruitless to continue. They wish to return to their lands."

The Patched one suddenly let out a deep, viscious roar. All became silent and still. He started circling within the crowd of fur and fangs. Snarling.

All eyes slowly turned and landed on us. Marek pushed me behind him. The clans became agitated again. This time, however, it was directed at us. I peer around his arm. There were a lot of fangs and claws. Their hackles were up and their lips were curled. The fierceness in their eyes was not lost on me.

Unexpectedly, a tussle erupted from the back. Snarls and whines inside an rolling ball of fur. I couldnt tell who started it or even who was finishing it. I could barely make out that there were two seperate bodies inside that tightly packed ball.

And then it happened.

The room exploded, werewolf on werewolf, pack against pack, pure chaos.

Marek pushed me to the throne. I sat. He kissed the top of my head, "Do not leave this throne, its very important..."

He took on his werewolf form, standing infront of me. Any beasts dumb enough to try for me, would not live to see another full moon. This I knew for certain. Marek had always protected me and I never doubted his ability to do so. Regardless of the scene unfolding mere feet infront of us, I felt safe.

I readjusted in my chair, looking around his massive body to watch it all play out in front of me.

Werewolves were jumping and flying through the air. Hitting the stone walls with their terrifying bodies, knocking over the tables then climbing on top of them and jumping onto the backs of others. The sounds they were emitting were horrifying. Snarling, barking, whining, screeching. In fight mode. In flight mode. Drool and blood spraying the walls. Some must have been injured as they reverted back to canine form.

They didnt live long after that.

Patch was in the very center of it all. Biting and snapping. Occasionally, he would toss a werewolf here and there but mostly it seemed as if he was directing his clan.

I wondered if this was the one that had banished Marek from his pack. He wasn't a Warrior. He wasnt a Shifter. What was between Warrior and Shifter in the pack hierarchy? I tried to visualize the stones from Naevia's table, attempting to put the pieces together inside my head.

Marek let out a deep growl. My head shot up, awakened from my thoughts without the answer I was searching for. Patch was pushing his way through the melee, eyes focused on Marek. None of the creatures noticed what was happening as they were too busy fighting for their lives.

Pack leader, he had said.

If you want it, you must kill for it, he had said.

..."Do you know why they attacked us? My Castle?"...

...Only guesses...

..."Which are?"...

...Kill me. Mate with you. Take over kingdom then rule land. Many lands. All lands...

...Kill me...

...Many lands. All lands...

...Kill me...

I watched in horror as Patch's intentions were now clear to me. He would kill Marek. And then he would kill me. Without Aiden, I was disposable.

Marek was the first to strike. He was no longer playing defense. He lept onto Patch's shoulders, quickly latching his fangs into the back of Patch's neck. Marek brought him hard to the stone floor as he somersaulted over him. Patch was on his feet fast and pissed.

The other werewolves were starting to disband from their fighting, watching intently. Their future depended upon who won. And by what I had seen, the room was split 50/50 on who they were rooting for. The horrible sounds of pain and death quickly ceased as they were no longer in control of their fate. There were only two werewolves that would be the deciding factor now. A white one and a black one. And the outcome would be final.

My life was in the balance. And Marek had the ability to move the scales.

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