Lycantis: Rage of Wolves by Malaena Medford (kiss me liar novel english TXT) 📕

In a world filled with unknown, humans fear everything - including the vampire covens of the mountains, and the mysterious and misunderstood lycans and werewolves of the forests and swamps. In the fantastical world of Zxy’Araei, alone and against the odds, one woman is at war with a darkness that has spread vastly throughout the land - a cult that threatens to destroy every nation be it werewolf, vampire, human, or other. She must find it within herself to conquer doubt, to control fear, and to gain the trust of beasts among men to stop them. Her journey could cost her everything, and not just her life.

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LYCANTIS

Rage of Wolves

Malaena Medford

 Illustrated by the Author

I

As a thick fog settled on the marshes of Dolsom, the eerie silence was disturbed only by the occasional sound of a toad or insect. The various creatures within the murky waters retreated as though sensing the ominous nature of the world above. Shadows passed through the pungent swamps as nighttime threw its dark blanket across them. The only light was the faint glow of the moon and stars through the mist. Cloaked intruders pounded through mud and muck toward Melimus Nel. The town wasn’t far, but their travel had been tedious and their breathing was labored.

Dark, looming forms ahead let them know they had entered the dangerous territory of the beasts among men. They slid along the bases of the looming buildings, thick pillars keeping the foundations from touching the water‑logged earth. They reached a small house near the center of town.

One man leapt onto the porch, making the boards groan.

He froze.

After a moment of listening for anyone who might have heard, he crept toward the door. He inched forward, sweat pouring down his face, body trembling with fear. His hand moved closer and closer to the door handle…

“Run Josom! Make haste!” one of the cloaked men cried out as they all fled through the swamps, terrified of what surrounded them in furious packs.

Josom held a bundle under his arm in a sling. He was running as if there was an avalanche behind him.

Out of nowhere, a monstrous, hairy beast dropped down from above and knocked one of the men down. It ripped into his flesh, blood spurting and coating its claws and thick fur. Josom ran even faster after witnessing his comrade being slaughtered. A second beast leapt out of the mucky water and slashed at another man’s chest.

Josom stopped abruptly when he heard his brother cry out in pain. “Tened!” he hollered into the mist, too late to help, too blind in the darkness to even see.

A very large, snarling beast barreled toward him, a signal to run again and leave his brother’s mangled body behind. He ran into the forest, dodging branches and leaping over small boulders. He neared his horse‑like veresti and rushed toward a conveniently placed ramp. With all his strength he vaulted onto the saddle, nearly missed, and then he kicked its sides feverishly. The animal bolted toward the desert, swiftly moving through the dense trees and over streams. The vicious beasts were close behind, snarling wildly, and his veresti was terrified; it whined and screeched its dismay.

They reached a deep ravine. Josom pulled on the reins and stopped at the edge, nearly plunging into it. He looked around, but there appeared to be absolutely no way out. The sound of paws galloping from behind made his heart skip beats. Three of the other cloaked men rode up beside him, some covered in claw marks and patches of blood.

One man pulled a sachet from the pack on his leg. He withdrew a smooth white pebble and threw it over the edge of the ravine while chanting, “Alda Os Erenes!”

A bridge of rocks and massive boulders formed as they were pulled from the walls and from below to the small stone he threw toward the center. The bridge became flattened as much as the chunks of granite could twist and turn on top, leaving rocks floating and levitating around the ones on the underside of the bridge. They rode across it as the beasts burst through the woods to the edge of the chasm. The hulking monsters reached the bridge, the leader reaching the center first. Their roars and snarls could be heard from far away, roars of pure fury and utter hatred.

The warlock turned and held out his hand. “Ene Ibrijal!” he shouted, causing the stone he had thrown to fly into his hand and the bridge to collapse from his side to the other.

The leading beast turned, almost sliding off the edge. He bolted toward the other side, paws mashing the rocks slipping out from under him. The others hurried to the edge of the ravine, away from the falling rocks. The leader fell as his support left him; rocks tumbled down into the chasm, dragging him with them into the deep darkness below.

The warlock sat upon his steed, leering at the brutes and giving a snort of amusement. They paced on the other side and shook with a deep hatred and boiling fury. They all howled, one after the other, letting the world know their anger…their hatred for the men. Turning, the warlock galloped away toward the woods, leaving the fuming beasts to watch as one of their prized possessions left them.

~

“Milavenai! Hurry up with Pip, you can spoil him when you return,” Milavenai’s mother called from across the yard. “Your father is waiting in the town hall for you!” She went back into the house.

Milavenai grinned. “Well, Pip, let’s be off. Father has something for us and we ought not to let him down.”

She set the brush down and stroked Pip’s silver mane, an odd color for a veresti to have with a mouse‑and‑amber colored body – quite rare indeed. He also had strikingly large, beautiful orange pupils with a thick line of blue encircling them; the rest of the eye was bronze. He was truly a handsome animal. She mounted the saddle, turning him to go to the town hall. She hadn’t the slightest idea what to expect, but she was excited.

Many farms were passed by as they galloped down the road, Pip’s paws thudding heavily upon the fertile soil worn away by passing travelers and by the villagers. They lived far from the heart of town just on the outskirts of Piascas Dulu, being the top distributors of the peria fruit - small greenish‑red fig‑shaped fruits - which were a staple of the village. They came into the main square and she slowed their pace as they neared a large building. It was adorned with wolf engravings on the front entrance.

She dismounted and patted Pip. “Head to the stalls. I put some peria in your trough.”

Pip’s ears pricked up and he trotted toward the stalls. It was late dusk, so she knew it would be dark soon and Pip would have to be her night eyes. Milavenai approached the front doors, taking in a deep breath, and then she pushed them open. Everyone at the long tables turned to see who came in, and then cheered as they saw her. One man, drunk as sin, held up his mug and spilled his mead all over his head and back. They all laughed and teased him as Milavenai made her way to the back of the hall where a man stood, adorned in grey furs and brown leather hunting gear. He smiled from ear to ear, giving her a fatherly embrace.

“We’ve been waiting for you for hours,” he exclaimed. “Have you been pampering Pip this whole time? No matter, you are here.” He led her to a seat beside his own at the Chieftain’s table at the back of the room, and then cleared his throat in announcement. “Brothers and sisters! Rest yourselves and take your seats,” he yelled over the revelry of the crowd. “We have reason for a banquet, so settle down and listen before we feast!”

Everyone standing headed to the tables and sat at their plates. The noise in the hall rose slightly as everyone became excited to hear what the news was. The buzzing of murmurs and mention of Milavenai could be heard as the topic spread from table to table. Urdes, a man at the center of the head table, turned to Milavenai’s father and nodded. He then stood as her father took his seat and the hall went silent.

“For the past few years, Phiuri has been training an apprentice to help our people fight the intruders slaughtering us one by one. And now this apprentice is ready to become a member of the Elite Blood Claw,” he stated as he held his hand out toward Milavenai’s father, Phiuri, who waved at the crowd as they drummed their pointy‑bottomed mugs on the tables. He rose out of his seat as Urdes sat and watched.

“For ages we relied on mostly male strength and brawn to protect us and female intellect and reasoning to guide us,” Phiuri said with a hint of pride starting to sound in his voice. “That image and tradition is now in the past. We will see both in the entirety of the way our lives