Arrival in Lycandor
The train screeched to a sudden halt, its heavy wooden wheels grinding against the cobblestone road. The abrupt stop jolted us forward, and for a brief moment, the only sound was the eerie silence that followed. Then came the loud clanging of chains as the werewolf guards, still in their human forms, yanked the carriage doors open.
"Move!" one of them barked, his voice low and guttural.
The metallic clatter of the chains echoed as they dragged us out one by one. My wrists stung from the tight metal cuffs that had been digging into my skin throughout the journey, but I forced myself to focus. The smell of damp earth and iron filled the air as I stepped down onto the cobblestone road, my eyes scanning the horizon.
---
I had imagined Lycandor to be a desolate wasteland—a dark, foreboding city cloaked in ash and ruin, reflecting the savagery of Fenrir and his pack. In my mind, it was a chaotic realm, with crumbling huts, raging bonfires, and an ever-present stench of death.
But what stood before me shattered those expectations.
Lycandor was... stunning.
The roads were made of solid black stone, polished to a sheen that reflected the sunlight like a mirror. Towering buildings lined the streets, their intricate carvings and grand facades suggesting wealth and power. At the heart of the city, a sprawling market buzzed with activity. Merchants called out to customers, selling everything from exotic fruits to gleaming weapons. Werewolves, blending seamlessly in their human forms, moved with ease through the streets, laughing, bargaining, and living as if nothing monstrous lay beneath their skin.
Even the air felt different. There was no stench of decay, no oppressive weight of despair. Instead, there was a crisp, almost inviting scent carried by the wind—a cruel contrast to the chains binding us.
I froze, unable to suppress my astonishment. "This... isn't what I imagined," I muttered under my breath.
---
Beside me, the trembling woman from the train clung to her chains, her wide eyes darting around like a trapped animal. "This can't be real," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "This isn't like the village they destroyed..."
The second woman, the one who had resigned herself to death, finally spoke. Her tone was sharp, laced with bitterness. "Of course it's not. This is the facade they show to keep us in line. Don't let the order fool you. Beneath it lies the same brutality."
Her words brought me back to reality. She was right—this was no sanctuary. Beneath the polished surface of Lycandor was the undeniable truth: we were in the heart of the wolves' den.
"Stay focused," I said, my voice low but firm. "Whatever this place looks like, don't forget what they are. This city isn't for us—it's for them."
---
**Through the Gates of Lycandor**
The guards prodded us forward, their rough hands pushing and pulling as we stumbled toward a massive gate. It towered above us, its black metal surface gleaming ominously in the sunlight. Ancient carvings etched into the gate seemed to pulse with a strange energy. Symbols I couldn't recognize twisted and spiraled in intricate patterns, filling me with an uneasy sense of foreboding.
As the gates creaked open, a cold chill ran down my spine. Beyond the threshold, the streets grew even grander. The buildings became larger and more ornate, their surfaces adorned with dark jewels and glimmering metals. In the distance, a massive palace loomed, its obsidian walls reflecting the sunlight like a beacon of power. Towering spires reached toward the sky, casting long shadows over the city.
"This is Fenrir's seat of power," I thought, unable to tear my eyes away. "This is where it all begins—and ends."
---
Beside me, Runa walked with her usual air of detachment. She moved with a grace that contrasted sharply with the fear and confusion emanating from the others. Her calm demeanor made her stand out even more in this strange, dangerous place.
"Aren't you surprised to see all this?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "No," she said simply. "I knew what I would find here."
Her response made me pause. "You knew?" I pressed, frowning. "How?"
Runa's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "Because I've learned to expect the unexpected. Unlike you, it seems."
Her words stung, but I didn't have time to reply. A guard barked an order, and we were forced forward again. The crowd of prisoners—mostly women—moved as one, chains clinking with every step.
---
The guards herded us into a large building near the palace. Its high, vaulted ceilings and dark stone walls gave it the appearance of a cathedral, though there was nothing holy about it. Inside, dozens of women from other carriages were already gathered, their faces a mix of fear, anger, and hopelessness.
I stood among them, my eyes darting around as I tried to take in every detail. The room was lined with metal bars, dividing us into groups. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their eyes cold and predatory.
"This is it," I thought. "This is where they'll decide what to do with us."
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps as a tall, imposing figure entered. His presence commanded attention, and the room seemed to shrink under the weight of his gaze.
Fenrir.
I had never seen him before, but I knew instantly who he was. His dark hair framed a face that was both beautiful and terrifying, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He wore a long black coat that swirled around him as he walked, his movements as fluid and dangerous as a predator stalking its prey.
---
My heart pounded as I stood there, trying to appear calm despite the fear coursing through me. *I have to stay strong,* I told myself. *No matter what happens, I can't let them see my fear.*
I glanced at Runa, who was watching Fenrir with a calm, unreadable expression. Her composure baffled me, but it also gave me a strange sense of reassurance. If she could remain unshaken, maybe I could too.
The air in the room grew heavier as Fenrir spoke, his voice low and commanding. I didn't catch all of his words, but one phrase stood out, chilling me to the core:
"You belong to Lycandor now."
---
As the guards began dividing us into smaller groups, I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to show any weakness. Lycandor was not what I had imagined, but it was still a place of danger—a wolf's den where every step could be my last.
*"This city may seem peaceful,"* I thought, *"but beneath the surface lies a darkness I can't even begin to understand. And I'm standing right in the middle of it."*