Purest

Prologue: A King's Descent

The Lycan King Demonicus
100 Years Ago

Like the stars twinkling and circling the precious beauty of the untamed orb above him, a jewel in the dark, cloudless sky, the future of his people shone like a beacon.

While bleakness was his. Uncertain of his future. Akin to a rocking ship amidst a storm.

King Constantine Demonicus, Moon Goddess's creation, ruler of the Lycanthrope Realm, powerful, loyal and true. The perfect Lycan King was...

Mateless.

Inside, he was broken. Incomplete.

Unblessed with the one he needed the most. A woman to complete him. His heart. His soul. A mate to call his own. A queen he would bow to. To worship the ground she walked upon.

He waited. Prayed and cajoled. Served and protected. Offered and humbled himself. 

But the Goddess had chosen his fate. He was to remain thus until his creator blessed him with the perfect woman.

For the past one hundred years, he had watched his subjects and his people find their destined ones. His kingdom prospered and grew. Pups ran about safe and free. While he, their king, loses his human day by day.

Soon, he would be naught but an animal. His beast shall win and he will be a lone wolf in the alps. Or a lycan when he lost control altogether.

Any day now. Signs had been made themselves known. 

His voice had turned into growls. His deep chocolate brown eyes into black pools of a predator. His rugged face and the stature of his lycan made everyone wary though they still viewed him in awe.

King Demonicus sighed heavily. No use in delaying the inevitable. He was hanging on by a tread as it was.

It was time to descend.

At his last royal ball. A farewell. And a warning.

The glittering lights of the massive chandelier, made by diamonds gifted by the elves during one of his raids, illuminated all parts of the majestic ballroom. Mahogany double doors and windows left open to permeate the breeze brought by the winter season.

Mated pairs gazed lovingly into each other's eyes with no care in the world while they waltz.

Maidens, humans and she-wolves, and strong warriors conversed in an animated tone at a respectful distance. Chaperons seated at scattered divans, eyes never leaving their charges.

There was one rule above all else his people had to abide by.

One can only claim and touch his or her fated mate. Or face death. His law was absolute. Applicable to all. With no exception. Abiding by his decree, conflict was avoided. War was far off. His kingdom thrived beyond belief.

Mated bliss was his legacy to his people. He would be stepping down head high, respected and revered by all.

The Moon Goddess was proud of him.

'But not proud enough to gift him with a mate' He thought bitterly.

'Your future awaits you, my son. For now, I need you to rest and let fate decide.'

Constantine closed his eyes briefly in pain. Though his wolf was howling, tasting the agony he was put through, he agreed. 'As you wish, Goddess Selene.'

'I only have your best interest at heart. You will know in time.'

'If you say so.'

He could sense the goddess's sadness through the link they shared then she faded away. The sky was cloudless on a night's full moon. A sign she was always watching her children.