The Lycano Legacy

CHAPTER TWO INTRODUCTIONS

I guess I should explain who I am. My name is Adam Lupus Lycano, orphaned, and most importantly, a werewolf. Though I prefer the politically correct term of Lycanthrope. It's ironic that this happened, mainly because I come from a line of Werewolf hunters spanning several generations.

Anyway, I woke up late that morning in the room I rented the previous day at the local in. Exiting, I tossed the payment to the bar, and stepped out into the light of a small village located at the foothills of Dedbasin, at the edge of the western plains of Alomeria. I left my equipment in the room, all but my sword, the only heirloom I can physically take from home.

Shartá. A small community funded by my late mother when she had just married father, a wealthy hunter who was prepared for almost anything. I don't have time to reminisce about them, so I hurried on down the dirt path to the Elder Home, across from the local smithy.

The house wasn't much, in fact, it wasn't even a house. It was located in the side of a tree that happened to grow too large to cut down, so instead it became the home of the village's elder. Who also happened to be my druid uncle. *sigh* this is gonna be great.

I stepped up to the door and knocked one time before I heard someone yelling and cursing, then I heard Marcus

"Dammit Adam just open the door, I know it's you again!"

"Yes uncle, you know me too well."

"Damn right." Contrary to the old man's constant complaints, Marcus was actually of a very fit stature for someone in his forties. The only sign of his age was the long salt and pepper hair draping his face.

"What th' hell do you want this time Adam?"

"The dreams are back and I thought-"

I was interrupted by the hiss of a sword leaving it's scabbard, and quickly brought up my forearm to deflect the blade, causing the edge to sink into my chainmail, stopping any cuts but the impact was sure to leave a bruise. Recovering from that, I quickly jabbed at his throat, causing him to back away, allowing me time to grab my own blade and swing it around towards his abdomen, my attack being deflected by the flat of the sword. It continued like this for a few minutes more until we both stood in his ruined living room, sweating and panting from the exertion and the recent heat.

"Alright, what's the issue this time?"

"I already said it was the dreams. They're back and it's terrifying to-"

"Lemme stop you there. You ought to know better than anyone by now that those aren't just dreams. They're visions.

He gave me a look of the utmost seriousness. I calmly waited for him to continue.

"These visions are how you remember them, right?"

"Almost, it has parts that I never saw before. Like the-"

"DON'T! Visions, like dreams, are meant to be private! Point is, they aren't how you EXACTLY remember, correct?"

"Correct"

"Then that means your eye is reacting to someone else who was there that night. It's spending your energy at night trying to find the source of those memories through time. Whatever happened to you, it's unique, even among other werewolves with the ability to see the future."

"So, what does it mean?"

Marcus hit me on the head with his walking staff.

"THINK BOY! THINK! Who else is alive that was there?"

".....no."

He must have seen what I was thinking. If it's true, then that means the demon wold that killed my parents is here, or will be.

"Now, do you have an idea who it may be?"

"Yes. It's most likely the-"

*THUMP THUMP*

"MARCUS! VAMPIRES ARE IN THE VILLAGE! OH GODS ABOVE THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! SEND FOR HELP PLEASE! AAAAAAAAHHHH"

After that, all we heard was sinister laughs and the sound of flesh being torn. It wasn't nice to hear.

"Marcus, you gather the survivors. If my suspicions are correct, then I'll go meet this devil head on."

"Now hold on Adam, don't be so eager-"

I didn't hear anything after that, I just ran through the door without a second thought. The village had descended into chaos with various cloaked figures running about chasing the inhabitants like dogs chase a cat. Then I felt a pressure in my eye that meant.....SON OF A-

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The girl ran. She ran and kept running, despite the searing pain in her back and the burning in her legs. All that mattered was getting away. Away from them. The orange eyes that had tormented her for years. Her rush to get away caused her to trip to the ground, falling through the trees into some sort of village she didn't know the name to. It didn't matter, what mattered was she needed to escape. Fortunately, she hand tumbled out of the forest into some sort of clearing where wood was chopped down for the furnace blazing across the dirt path. Weighing her options, she ducked inti the nearby shed, holding her breath as the monsters ran by, screaming in delight as they preyed upon the helpless inhabitants. Then, she blacked out.

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I came to a few minutes later when the images stopped. On a hunch, I grabbed my sword and headed to the general store, slashing apart any vampiric son of a bitch in my way, stopping when I saw a group of them surrounding a little girl with bright eyes and blonde hair. She wasn't older than ten, and that infuriated me. Charging forward, I swung my blade at the first of them, severing his head clean from his neck. The next lasted about the same as his shoulder ceased to be connected to his body. The rest ran as if the devil himself stood in their midst.

I left the child to her parents, who thanked me over and over until I felt the need to push them out of my way to get to their storage shed. Steeling my nerves, I brought my sword into a ready position as I yanked open the door, ready to strike.

*WHISH*

*THWACK*

"AH SON OF A WHORE!!"

That was the series of events of me getting hit in the face by a rake. My attacker, evidently inexperienced, tried to swing it again, being stopped by the rake in my grip and being pulled away. When I pulled the rake, I must have used too much force because it also dragged out the one who'd been hiding in here out into the moonlight revealing the one from my vision.

She had shoulder length, light brown hair that seemed matted, as though she had been on the run for a long time. Her figure was thin, emaciated even, and her face, though sick and thin, still looked every bit like my mother. Pointed chin, lightly arched eyebrows and high cheekbones. But her eyes were the trigger. They were multiple colors, from blue to sea green to chocolate brown. Only one other person I knew had those eyes, and I thought she was dead. I had finally found my little sister.

"........Iris....?"

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