Rogue Linage Novels & Stories

“By hiding there.” I turn back to the window and imagine it. Sirens. Panic. Wolves forced to hold back while fear spills everywhere. “He thinks the city makes him safe,” I say. “But it makes him weak.” Lena steps closer. “And when he realizes?” “He will have nowhere to run,” I say. “Because he will not abandon them. That is his flaw.” Mark nods slowly. “And his bloodline?” I feel that old fire burn hotter. “It ends,” I say. “Right there. In the open. Where everyone can see what happens when you cross me.”

From what I had learned, he was one of the Generals of the Rogue division of the Oust Resistance. That line’s confusing, I know. But if I understand things well, the attack and infiltration of the Reigns by the Lycans were termed “Oust Resistance”. That’s what they called it. And two kinds of species were involved in this resistance. The Lycans and the werewolves— specifically Rogue Werewolves. Hence, the term Rogue and Lycan division of the Oust Resistance. The Lycans were obviously the bosses around here and the Rogues were more like their slaves or bondsmen. Nevertheless, some Rogues were sailing on higher ranks— like Decayed-Mouth.

I have started a lie too late for the truth now. “The rogue’s numbers have significantly increased, it seems that wolves like the idea of a non-traditional pack”, snarling in disgust he began pacing back and forth. “Apparently his quite handsome and charismatic”. “Father, there is no way The Rogues will ever outnumber our pack” furrowing my brow in confusion. I had never seen my father this nervous about a rival pack, the Red Crescents had always been the largest pack in the southern hemisphere, as one of the five original werewolf packs our bloodline was royal, and the pack was one that garnered respect.

However, werewolves and lycans both shift at the age of eighteen. There is one main issue with werewolves that my parents made sure I understood from a young age. Werewolves that live in packs absolutely detest rogue wolves. I do not blame them. There is good reasoning for hating rogues. Rogues usually go insane from the solitude and, more often than not, end up attacking and killing innocent wolves. The group of wolves that killed my parents were rogues. Since then, I have made a habit of going rogue hunting. I take a break from my work and hunt down and kill rogues that have gone insane.

Rogues are werewolves that were cast out of their own clan and tribes, but the freedom of the current Selestine, and the looser rules of the clans and small tribes allowed these rogues to leave intact without their soul injured due to being forcibly ejected from the soul-link that covers the entire clan and tribe. Soul-link allows each clan to vaguely feel the existence of their clansmen, and it serves as some kind of message that notifies them of a clan member’s current plight or death. Forcibly ejecting a clan member from the entire soul-link of the clan will damage their soul and will make them aggressive that will sooner or later border into madness.

Kael grabbed the rogue by the throat and slammed him against the wall hard enough to crack stone. “Who sent you?” The rogue only smiled, blood dribbling down his chin. “You’re already too late.” Kael slammed him again. “Answer me.” The rogue’s eyes slid past Kael, locking onto Lyra. His smile widened, feverish, almost worshipful. “There she is.” Fear twisted in Lyra’s stomach, cold and sharp. The rogue’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The lost bloodline.” Kael’s grip tightened until the rogue choked. “What does that mean?”

Something I’d copied years ago from the ruins of a rogue enclave destroyed by the Obscured Order. The ink was faded now, but the words were burned into my memory. “Delun, the Moonborn Flame. Last sentinel of the wild blood. She who woke the stars.” It had read like myth. But nothing about Nyx was myth anymore. “I’ve heard her name before,” I admitted. “In rogue records. Old ones. From before the High Council erased our lineage from the central archives.” Nyx’s gaze snapped to mine. “Rogue records?” I nodded. “When I was younger—before I took my father’s place as Alpha—I spent time with the outliers. Nomadic packs. Exiles. The ones who didn’t bow to the Council’s authority.”

“If Allene wins… Leonard renounces the bond permanently. And the rogues gain autonomy and recognition as a pack within the Alpha Council.” Silence crashed over the clearing. I saw a smile stretch across Allene's face and the faces of my betas who were present. The alpha council looked like I had sidelined then. Then they burst out in outrage. “That is impossible.” “Rogues cannot be legitimized.” “You have no lineage structure.” “You have no ancestral claim.” One of the elders stepped forward, eyes blazing. “They are rogues. By definition they stand outside law.” I held his gaze. “No,” I said. “By persecution they stand outside law. Rogues are wolves too and they deserve to be treated as such

With no souls, they were entirely consumed by their rage, their beasts constantly exposed. He growled at me. I remained still, knowing the lessons I had to be composed. He was once a villager. As Queen to be, I had my own rules to follow for the better of my ruling, “good evening Princess Louise, I am but a simple messenger of the great Rogue King. He sends his regards,” he quickly spoke. It was clear he was being cocky after infuriating my father. Rogues, as well as many of my people who were not humans, knew each clan's bloodline held great power, unique from one another.