The Lycan Kings Army Novels & Stories

Which meant that that all southern packs came under the rulership of a Lycan King, the only lycan in existence. All packs of the Southern region were conquered by the Lycan King, except one: Ravenclaw Pack, our pack. It was no secret that the Lycan King of every generation always had their eyes on Ravenclaw Pack, even the present Lycan King. Past kings had tried to wage war, but none pursued us to the end. The present Lycan King wanted us, but he was wise not to wage war on us. Instead, he was an unofficial ally to us; their backing was the reason the strong packs of other regions didn't wage war on us as the only pack independent of a Lycan rulership in the south.

“This doesn’t feel like King Brad’s command. This feels different.” A terrible, suffocating silence descended over the clearing as the Lycans finally emerged into full, terrifying view, rows upon rows of hulking, powerful warriors, their forms massive and imposing, their silver-tipped fangs gleaming menacingly beneath the indifferent moonlight. Their collective presence was overwhelming, a suffocating force that pressed down on the very air, promising only utter devastation. And then, emerging from their disciplined ranks like a storm given sentient form, was the Crown Prince himself.

Stone had assumed that he was leading the strategy, but I had led them to the one place that I knew would have enough bodies to fill a river. They were standing on the ground of fallen warriors, an army that had died for me, fought wars and dissolved kings in my name. And just like before, they were risen, awaiting my command one last time. My army of the undead had risen. This was the enemy they didn’t see coming. They had been fighting like mortals, but now, I was going to show them why I was called the Lycan king. “Mikhail, he is here,” Damon mumbled, his hand shaking as he held onto his sword.

The cheers when he stepped in boomed against the rock, each step heavier than the last, his beta stood at one end of the room, watching every single interaction which was to happen, and would transpire between everyone of them. " Today, we are here to get the lycan kingdom for the damage they have done over the years, ranging from his wife to himself, we are going to make certain that they pay, every single one of them, we are going to use the element of surprise on them because what else would be better?" Little laughs rented the air before he nodded.

In fact, the more I stared at him the more his face began to fit the description of a popular tale that echoed in my mind: Eyes of gold, tyrant's sway. Scar, terror, endless fight. Ruthless Beast, cold as night. Heart of steel, soul of fire. No mercy given, no love to acquire. Feared by all, through day and night. I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I recognized the man before me. This was Lycan Alexander of Theriakon pack. King of the Lycans within the 7 kingdoms. The most ruthless Lycan to have ever lived.

Considering Alexander’s men are great fighters, they fought valiantly amidst the struggles from the toxin that fogged their senses. From the enemy’s perspective, it may seem that the warriors are outnumbered. Lycan warriors against ogres and rogues. The large numbers of the enemy didn’t matter. Lycans are not only huge in their beast form, but they are also stealthy, strong, and sharp. That’s why they are called the most fearsome kingdom for a reason. Having said all that, they won. After the fight, most of his men suddenly collapsed and coughed blood, shifting back to their human form.

Standing beside the carriage were two tall, broad-shouldered figures draped in black iron armor and heavy bear pelts. They weren't local wolves. Their scent was dense, dangerous, and foreign—reeking of dark frost, old blood, and terrifying magic. Lycans. My blood ran cold. The Lycan Kingdom lay far to the north, beyond the icy peaks. They were known across the continent as ruthless, bloodthirsty beasts who took no prisoners and recognized no Alpha authority. The lead Lycan—a scar-faced warrior with cold grey eyes—stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching on the frozen dirt. "You're late, Alpha Magnus."

It was heavier than it looked, the cover soft and a little sticky with age. It opened plainly enough: Each alpha has a prophecy, and it will always come to pass. Weird, I thought. The kind of line that means nothing until, suddenly, it means everything. I almost put it back right there. I wish I had. I kept reading instead. The Tenth Lycan King will conceive a child with his Luna. The child will be the most powerful and most feared in history. I read it again, slower. Then a third time, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something that made more sense, something less impossible. They didn't.

The mating bite on his neck stood openly visible, a deliberate symbol of defiance against the old laws that had sparked this war. Lucien joined him on the tower, his massive frame clad in full black armor etched with silver wolves, the crown of the Lycan King resting heavy on his brow. His golden eyes burned with ruthless determination as he surveyed the approaching threat. The bond between them thrummed strongly, a warm anchor amid the gathering storm, feeding strength from one to the other.

“Our contestants: Lady Nina Parke, soldier of the Lycan female army, daughter of Minister Gale, and Lady Myra, soldier of the Lycan female army.” He paused again. The crowd couldn’t help but murmur. “It’s still a she-wolf. Doesn’t she have a pack or is she a rogue? The Lycan King and a rogue? This is preposterous.” Matteo shot a glare at all of them, making them shudder in fear and zip their lips.