Daddy Unknown

Prologue (The Song Of The Wolf)

PLEASE NOTE: this is the first book I've ever written, I started writing it when I was 15 and finished it at 18. The plot quality is extremely poor and frankly, kind of redundant. I like to think I improved a lot since then so please read my book The Song Of The Wolf instead. 

 This feels a bit deceptive but here's the Prologue to give you a taste:

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Thousands of years ago, nestled in the bosom of ancient Greece, lay a land called Arcadia. During a time when gods stepped down from mount Olympus to indulge in human delights, King Lycaon had his reign.

He introduced high levels of culture and civilisation to the realm: science, religion, philosophy and the arts. People from all walks of life gathered the temples, bathhouses, theatres and stadiums; in the bustling stoas and marketplaces, to trade goods, ideas, and engage in lively discussions.

King Lycaon's rule was marked by an iron-fisted approach to governance. He issued decrees, enforcing the worship of Zeus as the supreme deity, ensuring uniformity in religious practices. He represented a period of great intellectual and artistic achievement. Yet, also of contentious rule, where cultural splendour accompanied the imposition of ideology.

As the kingdom basked in the radiance of prosperity, dark clouds gathered on the horizon. Seeds of discord sprouted beneath the weight of the king's hunger for more, casting a long shadow over Arcadia. He conquered many neighbouring lands, expanding his borders and amassing unimaginable riches. Countless women fell victim to his lustful gaze as his bloodline began to take shape. Twelve sons and a multitude of daughters, born of his escapades.

The commoners, who had once revered their king, now regarded him and his offspring with trepidation. The twelve young princes, driven by hormones and rotten by a privileged upbringing, became the embodiment of dread. Their whims were indulged without question, their antics left unchallenged.

The fate of the realm hung precariously, teetering on the edge of chaos, as the spoils of excess threatened to overshadow the brilliance that once illuminated. The king began to neglect the care of his people, which even the gods took notice of. Zeus himself decided to put Lycaon's character to trial. He dressed in the rags of a poor peasant and travelled down to the Arcadian palace, begging for food and shelter. Lycaon, cunning as a fox, saw through the ruse and welcomed his guest with a facade of generosity. But he did not take kindly to being tricked, not even by the supreme god. The king and his eleven eldest sons hatched a plan that would test Zeus' divine omniscience and the very fabric of fate. They plotted to sacrifice the youngest of the brood and serve his corpse as a dish, dressed to resemble a spit-roasted wild boar.

Revered for his role in maintaining cosmic order, Zeus wielded justice and punishment with unwavering resolve. The moment the platter was paraded into the great hall, his all-seeing eye penetrated the veil of falsehood and the heavens responded in kind, unleashing a spectacle of thunder and lightning. The audacity of mere mortals, daring to mock the divine arbiter was an affront to the very essence of celestial balance. Such transgressions would not go unanswered.

A curse descended upon Lycaon and his sons, contorting their bodies into beasts –nightmarish wolves destined to roam the earth. In the aftermath, Zeus shifted his attention to the roasted dish. He resurrected the once-sacrificed son, now a grown man, and proclaimed him the monarch of Arcadia. As the newfound king assumed his role, it became apparent that the laws of nature had been disrupted. The young man's soul had become deformed and twisted. Fuelled by the deep-seated grudge he held against his father and brothers, he sentenced them to death, seeking to mete out divine retribution by offering their flesh to the very god who had cursed them.