Mag-log in« Êtes-vous absolument certaine de vouloir acheter cette Potion de Rupture du Lien ? Une fois consommée, elle dissoudra progressivement votre lien avec votre compagnon au cours de quinze jours. Après cela, le lien sera définitivement rompu. Il n’y a pas de retour en arrière, pas de place pour le regret. » Je hoche la tête sans hésiter. « Votre nom ? », demande-t-elle, prête à enregistrer la vente. « Sierra Morency. » La main de la sorcière s’immobilise, ses yeux s’élargissant de reconnaissance. Tout le monde dans notre pays sait que Damien Bisson, le Roi Alpha du Territoire du Nord, a une compagne Oméga qu’il a chérie et poursuivie pendant des années avant que leurs loups ne se lient finalement. Son nom est Sierra Morency. Sans hésiter, je bois la Potion de Rupture du Lien d’un seul trait. J’ouvre mon téléphone et réserve un billet aller vers l’Europe, partant exactement dans quinze jours. Cette fois, Alexandre ne me trouvera plus jamais.
view moreThe Dark Forest is a vast area of woodlands so thick that the sunlight ever hardly penetrates through the canopy. Even when the sun is high up in the sky at noon, the heart of the Dark Forest is only ever as bright as the dawn breaking and never really fully committing to a full morning. Because sunlight barely gets through, the forest gets colder the deeper one goes inside. Because of this and some other reasons, the forest has become home to various creatures that are barely seen outside. Creatures that could only be known in books and are considered to be merely created by fantasy.
Towering on the north of the forest is a ragged mountain that is hardly accessible. An old castles sits at its peak. It had been said that the castle is home to an evil lord that was vanquished by the hero 500 years ago. When one stands at the terrace of the castle overlooking the forest, one see a stone altar surrounded by a circular column of large stones and slabs deep in the heart of the forest. The location of the altar is the only clearing in the midst of the dark thicket and no one knows when this altar was made or who uses it. There were rumors that it was used as a sacrificial area for the previous demon lord.
It was on top of this tone altar that a young girl – barely in 15 years old – woke up. As she opened her eyes, she saw the full moon shining brightly above her. A cold midnight breeze blew and the girl shivered, all she had on her was a thin white cloth that barely covered her skin. Her hands and feet were bound to stubs of metal connected to each corner of the altar and her mouth was gagged with cloth. It took her a minute to understand her situation – the moon, her clothing, the bounds on her foot, and the vast expanse of woodland surrounding her. The growls and distant calls of unknown creatures cemented her previous conjecture. She is in the middle of the Dark Forest and she has just become the sacrifice.
Dread has overcome her and she started to pull her hands and feet, trying to get free from the bounds. The tight knot of the rope scraped against her wrists and ankles and she started to bleed. The horror, the pain, and the coldness made her start to cry. She could not believe the situation that she is in. just a few hours ago she was with her friends. They were celebrating the harvest festival and she had food one too many. Then she wakes up and finds herself bound in the middle of the forest, waiting to be taken by whatever creature is coming for her.
A few minutes have passed and her arms and legs started to feel sore from struggling. Her throat felt dry and parched. She wanted to urinate and she has been holding it in for like an eternity. She stopped crying now, she is too weak to even groan. After struggling for a long time, she has finally succumb and surrendered to her fate in the middle of this desolate place. Soon after, she heard the flapping of what seems to large wings. The area started to dim as an overcast shadow of a flying creature started to swoop down to where she is. As the creature gets closer, she soon realized that it was not a bird – at least the wings were not made of feathers.
The huge wings looked like overstretched skin framed by long bony fingers. The creature itself seems like a giant bat, except the features are more humanoid. The limbs were thin and springy, the torso was small and rounded at the belly, but the ribs and clavicles were prominent at the chests. The face and the head was even more grotesque. The creature is balding with wisps of hair at the back of its head. The eyes were almost slit-like and burned red. The nose – if you would ever call it – are merely two vertical slits. The creature’s ears were long. A short description of it would be like a cross between a bat and man – in a single word, a gargoyle.
The girl whimpered as the gargoyle drew closer. It seems to be talking to her but all she hears a growls and squeaks. The girl could not believe what she is seeing. It is a creature that is supposed to be just confined in books and stories made to scare off children. It was not supposed to exist unless this is nothing but a dream. ‘That’s right! This could be just a dream and nothing more,’ she thought to herself. She was supposed to wake up anytime soon and would jump out of her bed – just like what happens when she had nightmares before. But she never woke up, she remained awake and the creature is actually standing right beside her. The pain on her arms and legs only made her understanding of the reality even worse.
The creature started to reach out towards her; on it bony fingers are long claw-like nails. The girl almost lost her control from the fear and she finally let go of what she had been holding in. Her humiliation and fear intermingled as warmth and wetness spread along her legs. The piss spread through the altar and flowed towards the edges. The creature did not seem to mind as it was busy slashing up the rope that bound the girl to the altar. This is not the first time anyway, when seen during the day, the altar has dredge marks of different forms of liquid – rainwater, urine, blood, slime – and the creature only has one job: to gather the sacrifice and take it to its master.
The girl’s mind has gone to a far-off place now. In her mind, she has already woken up to a new day. In her mind, she is already preparing for the day to help her mother in kitchen to cook breakfast and pack lunch for her father and brothers, of course she will include one for her lover as well. Their village is mostly farmland so the boys at this time work at the fields to harvest. In the evening, the harvest festival continues and it will be merry just like the previous night, yes, it was the night when she woke up with a nightmare. That was a very bad dream and she will talk about it with her lover and her friends and they will just laugh it off.
It was all in her mind her mind though, in reality, her eyes have turned glassy and dead. She has become devoid of all feelings. She did not even feel the creature carrying her towards the castle. She did not hear the voice of the Demon King ordering his maid to wash her and replace the cloth on her. She did not notice that the maid pulling her around the castle had a snake’s body instead of legs. She did not notice the moving statues leering at her along the hallways. She did not flinch as she was dipped in the warm bath – too warm for an average human. She woke up the next day in a strange large bed in an even larger room. She will stay here for about a year – until the next sacrifice arrives.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
“Hey! Where’s Jessica?!” a girl asked her friends, one of them seems to be missing.
“I don’t know. She was talking to someone earlier,” answered one of her friends.
“Isn’t she just with Carl? The wine she drank seemed to put her in the mood,” answered another one mischievously.
“Oh! Right! Lucky her,” the girl who first asked replied. The group of friends walked around the festival grounds all through the night. They ate from the food stalls, played games on the others, and met with other friends. They did not know that their friend has already been brought somewhere else. That they would never see her again in not least than a year – unless she kills herself in that place. They did not know that another one will be gone in the next festival.
Inside the village head’s mansion a group of men is in talking about the harvest festival. The sound of the festivities and the voices of the villager can be heard even inside the conference room. Every year, they perform the selection ritual – they will randomly choose the next pure maiden from the list and prepare her for the next harvest festival.
“This has been a ritual since the establishment of our village,” the village chief addressed the men in attendance, “This is the only way to ensure that the Demon King would leave us alone.”
“The selection that is guided by the hands of fate will now begin,” said a person in an older and rasped voice, “I will now pick from the box.”
The room was tense and silent. They know that this is an important event for the village bit they are still anxious. Most of them have their daughters listed from among the candidates. A young girl starts to become a Candidate when she turns 13 and she will be in the list until she gets married or until she reaches 20 years old.
“Oh! It seems that next year’s festival is highly favored,” the old man said as he read the name, “The village chief’s daughter has been chosen!”
Jour après jour, le corps puissant de Damien devient émacié, creusé par le chagrin et une recherche désespérée.Après ma disparition, le rire meurt dans le Territoire du Nord. Leur Roi Alpha devient un fantôme, errant dans les couloirs avec des yeux morts.Les devoirs de la meute sont abandonnés tandis qu’il parcourt l’Europe avec obsession. Des rues brumeuses de Londres aux lumières scintillantes de Paris, des ruelles anciennes de Rome aux corridors froids de Berlin – il cherche partout.Mais même le pouvoir considérable d’un Roi Alpha a des limites.À Prague, il échange une année de sa force vitale contre un sort de traçage auprès d’une sorcière desséchée.À Vienne, une autre sorcière prend une portion de sa puissance d’Alpha pour un rituel de divination.À Moscou, le praticien magique le plus redouté lui draine la moitié de son énergie restante pour un simple aperçu de mon avenir.Rien ne fonctionne.Entre les recherches, il se noie dans du whisky mélangé d’aconit, titubant à traver
Soudain, le téléphone que Sierra laisse dans la maison s’illumine d’un message provenant d’un numéro inconnu. Le cœur de Damien s’arrête lorsqu’il lit les mots :[Pauvre petite Sierra. Ton compagnon m’aime plus que tout maintenant. Tu penses vraiment qu’éliminer ton misérable prétexte de loup le fait rester fidèle ? Veux-tu savoir ce que nous faisons dans ton lit pendant que tu brûles ces fleurs ?]Une photo apparaît – son antre privée, des draps en désordre et tachés, des objets intimes éparpillés négligemment.Un autre message suit : [Il dit que ton odeur rend tout encore plus excitant. Veux-tu savoir ce qu’il murmure à mon oreille ?]Les yeux de Damien s’embrasent d’un rouge cramoisi, la fureur irradiant de lui par vagues. « C’est donc toi depuis le début ! »Son pouvoir d’Alpha explose vers l’extérieur, faisant crépiter la pièce d’une énergie létale. Les doigts tremblants de rage, il tape :[Elicia, je t’avertis de ne jamais contacter Sierra ! Tu dépasses les limites.]Son rire tra
Quelques heures plus tôt…Après avoir raccompagné Elicia chez elle, elle s’accroche à lui comme une seconde peau, son parfum troublant son jugement. « Reste un peu, Damien. » Ses doigts tracent des cercles hypnotiques sur sa paume. « Tu es déjà là… »Une anxiété inexplicable lui serre la poitrine. Quelque chose ne va pas. « Je devrais rentrer voir Sierra », murmure-t-il. « J’ai promis de passer la soirée avec elle. »Il essaie de se dégager du contact d’Elicia, hanté par le visage déçu de Sierra.Cela fait si longtemps qu’il n’a pas vraiment été avec sa compagne. La culpabilité le ronge. L’idée que Sierra l’attend lui arrache un sourire tendre mais coupable.Elicia ne se laisse pas décourager. Elle se presse contre lui, ses bras s’enroulant autour de sa taille. « Mais tu ne veux pas voir ce que je porte sous ça ? » Sa voix dégouline de miel. « Je l’ai acheté juste pour toi… mais si tu ne veux pas voir… »Ses mains glissent sous la chemise de Damien, ses ongles effleurant sa peau.L’exp
J’oblige mes lèvres à s’incurver vers le haut, dissimulant ma douleur derrière un masque de normalité. « Rien d’important », je mens avec aisance. « Je parle juste toute seule. »Il accepte sans poser de questions, déjà tourné vers les plans du dîner.Je suis à moitié endormie lorsque Damien termine ses obligations envers la meute cette nuit-là, son corps irradiant encore la chaleur du contact d’une autre femme.Il me serre dans ses bras comme si de rien n’était. Je reste parfaitement immobile, luttant contre l’envie de me dégager.Ses mains couvrent les miennes, la chaleur de l’Alpha s’infiltrant dans mes doigts glacés. Ce geste qui autrefois m’apaisait me semble désormais une moquerie.Dans mon état de somnolence, je le sens presser mes mains contre sa poitrine, juste au-dessus de son cœur – ce cœur qui ne bat plus seulement pour moi.L’épuisement finit par m’emporter, mes rêves hantés par une fourrure blanche et des sourires triomphants.Lorsque je me réveille, son côté du lit est d
Le lendemain, Damien annule toutes les affaires de la meute, déclarant qu’il va m’emmener au Festival de la Lune d’Hiver en ville. Son enthousiasme semble sincère, presque désespéré.Le monde des humains déborde de couleurs et de vie, en contraste avec notre territoire austère du nord gelé. Les marc
Sortant de la boutique de la sorcière, je me retrouve dans un Territoire du Nord transformé.Le paysage hivernal habituellement austère est animé d’une activité frénétique. Les membres de la meute courent comme des fourmis, accrochent des lumières de fées scintillantes et arrangent des tables pour c












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