Primordial: The Cruel Lycan King's Redemption Novels & Stories

The king was next to him again, blood soaring in the air as he ripped out his arm, His leg. Like it was nothing. I felt ill. Bile rose up my throat as the blood pooled round the fountain, the smell of iron strong in the air. The Alpha had not made a sound after his arm was ripped out, his eyes a hazy gloss as he stared above, his face bone white, even in the darkness. “Y-your.. your majesty.” His chest heaved as the king stood over him, and for the first time in my life, I saw fear in a lycans eyes.

she retorted as she not so subtly rolled her eyes. "Lycan King Oscar coveted such powers, so he charmed the Primordial's princess. He got to learn that once every ten years, the Primordial's were at their lowest and powerless. He mobilized his warriors, and they attacked. Being the Primordial's princess, she was entrusted to protect the Chronos with her life. Just before she died, she activated it and asked to make three wishes." The seer explained, her voice dropping an octave and I leaned forward as I placed my palms flat against the desk and tried to capture every word that was being spoken.

Lyra looked at him, really looked, and for the first time saw the truth beneath the legend. This man wasn’t afraid of war. He was afraid of wanting. Outside, the moon climbed higher, silver light spilling across stone and skin alike. And in that quiet, dangerous space between them, Lyra realized something else too. The Lycan King wasn’t the monster the world feared. He was far worse. He was a man losing control. And somehow— She was already part of the reason why.

my stepmother used to sneer, "Alaeric will rip your throat out before you can even beg for mercy. He doesn't take prisoners. He only takes lives." I looked at the pillars, then heard the rogues snap a branch just a few yards behind me. I could smell their rot. I didn't have a choice. "I'd rather be killed by a Prince than eaten by a rogue," I whispered. With the last bit of my strength, I lunged forward. My hands hit the dirt on the other side of the line. The air changed instantly. It didn't just get cold, it felt heavy, like I had stepped into a room filled with lead. The ground beneath me seemed to hum with a dark, ancient power. This was the land of a Lycan, and it didn't want me here.

THE PRIMAL LYCAN TOOTH. All undergo the phase of being toddlers- may it be human, vampires or werewolves. It is mainly the aspect of life where evolution happens in mysterious ways. When the fist tooth that grows in a lycan form arose, it is known to be a magical way of keeping a loyal contract with them just as how dragons would offer their cores to form a bond to their contractors. I do hope that those servants will take my bet seriously. I'm pretty sure no kleptomaniac cannot resist the thought of riches and gold.

Every prophecy must be read in the right context. "He's right," James said looking into his laptop. “I found what you asked me” and looked into Max's eyes smiling. “This is proof that it is all a story. The primordials are descendants of the King Of Werewolves. We don’t have a king anymore. We just live in packs and have our territories. ” Max looks at James and doesn’t say anything and he sees Meredith approaching, followed by Vivi and Cara and Lori. "How did I do?" she asks Max, smiling at him.

“You are the only reason he hasn’t already torn the entire palace apart. Tonight, his primal wave reaches its peak. Every Lycan King experiences it once a month, a phase where they lose all control and become a monster that doesn’t even recognize its blood.” “Then why me?” I whispered, my body drained of strength. “Because only you can.” Her words were little more than a murmur before she vanished into a curl of mist. I turned my focus back to the King, who was still ripping through the soldiers. Somehow, I was certain there was still awareness buried deep inside him. Closing my eyes, I tried to bridge the space between us to reach him. “Your Majesty, it’s Veya. Please… come back to yourself

He took the empty stool beside me. For some reason, talking to him felt easy. Natural. We exchanged jokes. Traded sarcastic remarks. And for the first time all night, I found myself genuinely smiling. The stranger eventually lifted his glass. "Darius." I blinked. "Darius?" "Darius Draven." The name hit me immediately. My eyes widened. Everyone knew that name. The Lycan King. The most powerful Lycan alive. Darius seemed to notice my surprise. "That look never gets old."

Another replied and I groaned but still closed my eyes there. “Are you nut? Can’t you see he is about to die? He can’t even open his eyes well anymore. Are we going to watch him die like this?” One of them said again and my heart leaped. “You are the one who’s lost his mind. Have you forgotten that he is a Lycan king and a very strong one at that? How will he die just because he is thirsty? Beings like him can go for years without taking anything and they will still be okay!” One of them finally raised his voice as he scolded the last one who spoke.

I bit out, and immediately regretted the harshness in my tone. The prince didn’t look at me, although I saw the stiffness in his shoulders. “It’s not like that,” he replied. “My father, the Lycan King, is turning sixty soon—which means that the succession battle will be held at his banquet. He will officially retire and my brothers and I are meant to battle for the crown.” “I hardly see what this has to do with me.” “Well maybe if you would let me finish,” Neil retorted, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “What I mean to say is that a Lycan prince cannot participate in the succession battle unless he has a female companion in attendance; a future queen.”