Annie was once docile as a lamb, but now she is a wolf on the loose.
She is on a desperate quest :
Finding her true identity,
And finding her father.
Struggling to find a balance between herself and her inner wolf will she find balance? Since...
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Wolf Realm
Footsteps echoed through the palace approaching the main room where Damon was sitting uncomfortably in a silver chair with pikes meant to harm his skin at his every move. The heavy double wooden doors opened with a slam, but he remained unfazed.
Damon stood as straight as his crocked body let him while catching a hiss between his gritting teeth. The chair's purpose was to make him suffer anytime he would seek to see above, reminding him his status in the kingdom. Below. Soon the sting sensation subsided, his body was already getting used to the pain, a gift from his wolf DNA. All the open wounds he had hours before were healing slowly, erasing the ordeal of his life. His eyesight quivered, exhausted due to all the energy his already deprived body was draining from his system as he healed, but he stood tall.
"Davon, I wasn't expecting you so soon. Had someone told me, I would have ordered a feast for you." He said making his voice sound steady and strong.
A vein pulsed in Davon's neck, his hand turned to a fist and reached Damon's jaw. Damon was quick to suppress any sound from coming out. He wouldn't give him that satisfaction. In time, he would heal after all, it could be faster. Yet the wolfsbane in his system made the process painfully slow. Davon was no fool, he kept finding ways to dose the right amount in his vains. Damon couldn't heal, but he couldn't die either. He was just as precious as he was despised. Damon was strong once and the right hand for the king. Now he wore silver shackles and was daily injected with wolfsbane. Silver was after all the wolf's worst nightmare. It caused deep burns to the skin.
Davon always had the upper hand, physically. Mentally, Damon held his head high.
The constant beatings had become a daily treatment meant to break his will, but even after so many years, it was a stalemate. Many other great wolves hadn't lasted more than a day. Yet, he. He was still holding up after five years. Damon didn't uttered a word and stared back into Davon's dark eyes.
An animalistic sound came out of Davon's slightly parted lips. "You had people over! Without my consent! What did you tell him? "
Damon's lips slyly curled upwards in such a manner that only a skillful eye would notice. 'Then the informant made it back.' He told himself. His wolf rejoiced inside him. His lungs filled with relief. Davon's explosive temper had gotten in the way making a big mistake. It was one of the many reasons he could never be fit to rule. His barbaric nature and his ramping blood lust were another.
Even before his true nature was known to all, his father knew his son couldn't rule. The king looked for ways to reclaim his title as an heir to the throne but was too late. The king parted ahead of time, but his will remained. Damon and a fraction of the population were willing to make their last king's wishes come true.
