The Lycan Hunter

Chapter 1

MY FATHER WILL BE DEAD BY SUNSET.

The thought should make the scene before him more ominous, but the waters of Blue Ridge Lake remained calm, unlike the energy boiling in Kyran’s veins. He stared out over the lush grounds of their Blue Ridge Mountain compound, taking in those gathered to bid a final farewell to his father, Arik, an aged, grey-haired version of himself. Ronan, his younger brother, stood on Arik's other side. Among the pack members who had gathered for the ritual was their mother, Erma. Her face was void of emotion, as though she was aware of the toll the ritual of Ardethen would take on her sons. 

During the Ardethen, the ritual killing of an aging leader, the elder leader would call on the god Ulryk, the God of Kings and Queens, to preside. Whoever killed him would be bestowed the powers to command those under him. At the moment, Kyran wasn’t sure whether he or his brother would be leading the pack in their father’s absence. He was the oldest, but his brother beat him in strength. 

Ronan’s fighting skills weren’t necessarily superior. Lycans were created by Narn, the Goddess of the Wild, to be guardians of the wilderness. Thus all Lycans were born, not made through bite, scratch, or science gone wrong. The longer they resisted the initial call of the Full Moon past their thirteenth birthday, the stronger they were. Kyran had experienced the moon’s pull on his seventeenth birthday, Ronan on his twentieth.

Added to Ronan’s inherited strength was the supreme training earned under the revered guidance of Mikko Wayne, leader and founder of The Order of the Rockys. 

The Order–also called The Rockys–was an unconventional group of Lycans. The members weren’t confined solely to Talas, the Lycan wolf form. At least one Lycan from every species owed their allegiance first and foremost to Mikko Wayne and all other Rockys, despite their difference in forms. ‘Once a Rocky always a Rocky’ was their motto. 

The allegiance to the Rockys had become a core component of Ronan’s design. Despite having no desire to lead, Kyran knew that if called to do so Ronan would become the Mikko, or chief, that the Blue Ridge needed.

The pack stood in silence, waiting for their soon-to-be deceased Mikko to speak. When Arik stepped forward, the pack fell to its knees.

“Today I will invoke the ritual of Ardethen. I seek to claim my place in Gardas and find the peace that has eluded me on Earth. As required, I must select from the fittest of those beneath me to rule in my absence.” Arik looked at both of his sons. “I sought the guidance of the gods and have followed their ever-wise advice in naming my successor.”

Arik turned to face Ronan, and Kyran nodded, knowing that it was wise to choose the strongest to rule the pack full of über-dominant males that made up the Blue Ridge pack. 

“Ronan, you are of stout body and sound mind, and choosing you to succeed me would be an honor.” Arik kissed his son softly on the cheek. “The gods, however, sought a different path but acknowledged you as a formidable opponent to the throne.”

Kyran stared at his father as if he was still trying to process what happened. Ronan, however, smiled at his father and returned the kiss. Arik wrapped Ronan in a fierce hug before he turned and stood before Kyran.

“Ah, Kyran, my oldest,” Arik said, flashing a smile. “You have long had desires I wondered if you would grow out of. At first mention of trying to end the Forever War, I thought it was nothing more than the folly of a child. You are a male past the age of youthful irrationality, and I see that you are steadfast in changing the lives of all Lycan kind. For that, I am proud to call you my successor. May you never forget the honor placed upon you by the god Othion, who has blessed you with his ultimate gift of Amund.”