The Lycan King’s Broken Mate
“Do you hear that? That sound is not only theirs. It is mine as well.”
The throne hall begins to stir. The darkness itself seems to gather, drawn to witness this new being. Along the walls, shadow-forms glide — silent, faceless, yet aware. They are the Dark Lord’s servants, refugees from time and light, the forgotten children of the world. Now they kneel around the cradle, as though a new dawn has come — one without a sun.
“Behold the heir,” the Lord says, and the air trembles with his voice. “He who was born between worlds. Of light, yet of shadow. The world you knew has fallen, because it never understood — darkness is not the enemy of light. It is its mirror.”