His rogue✔[Fabels Of The Past Series#2]

Repurcussions

Eight Werewolves were created as the personification of the virtues of Knighthood at the beginning of era. The integrity embedded like a value deep into their conscience.

Honesty, the glow in dark

Compassion the river of rejuvination of world

Valour the defiance of elixir and defendant of truth

Justice, the ray of hope in avalanche of dark storm

Honor, the word of courage and the sword of thunder

Sacrifice, the greater good, life above all

Spirituality the freedom from pain

And

Humility for them all.

Moon goddess Persephone had granted these 8 righteous powers to demons of nyx: night.

They were the supporting foundations to the werewolves but with time those values diluted like murky waters of a swamp as they passed from generation to generation who failed to understand and reciprocate the meaning behind the strongest powers in cosmos.

Lucien shook his head in disbelief, moisture collecting in his eyes as his throat clogged with emotion.

The man who protected him, gave him a mate, fought the world like the strongest and true warrior he was now laid limp since two days not a movement by his side.

Duxen the highest wizard of Scythe, the city of east was called at the earnest to tend to the dying Lycan.

His long white beard touched the ground as he settled, sharp black eyes scowled on seeing Rhysand.

"The elders were meant to be slaughtered one by one, days apart to maintain balance of nature! I have told the man not once but hundred times! Has he lost it! How am I supposed to heal him?"

"He isn't at fault, they said things-"

"Said things? This man here unleashed such great forces from their vessel without thinking twice. Are you completely incompetent in thinking?

Justice, Honesty, sacrifice and Humility, the elders who died represented these values, his one action had devastated the world.

I am surprised he is even breathing, none could contain the aftershocks of those forces, if he lives I am going to believe I have treated a fucking god because only a god can escape this, there must be ambrosia running through his veins to be treated."

The old man seethed but even he couldn't deny that he was scared for Rhysand's life.He quit grumbling and resumed the task of applying salve to his feet.

Celeste refused to believe that anything could happen to the beast as she wiped his burning forehead with a wet washcloth with trembling hands as Lucien clutched his hairs in a painful grip trying to hold onto reality.

He paced back and forth in the cave they were staying at currently. Grief clawing at his chest as the sun settled behind omnipotent grey clouds.

True to the wizard's words Tartarus at the bottom of the inferno was blazing with hellflames.

The magnanimous smoke skull bound with heavy chains in it's depths had his mouth gaped wide as it's tongue lolled down to gulp the soul of the Lycan breaking all barriers of Life and Death.

Sickening sounds of breaking bones as the skull tried to get free made the walls of Tartarus cry in misery.

He wasn't supposed to live. The only Lycan on the earth was meant to be there by now with no blood thrumming through his veins and no breaths escaping his lungs only for the skull to devour for his heinous crimes.