coraxanderson
The Moon's Chosen: The Origin of the Four Lycan Kingdoms
Centuries ago, before the written word touched bark or bone, the moon hung heavy over the world - vast, silver, watching.
It was said that in the deepest hour of night, when even shadows dared not stir, the Moon Goddess, Elureth, descended to the mortal plane. Moved by the sorrow of war-torn tribes and dying forests, she searched for four humans whose souls shimmered brightest beneath her light - not for their goodness, but for their intensity.
To these four, she gave a gift veiled as a curse - the first werewolf blood, fused not from rage or plague, but from celestial design. Her purpose: to seed strength where the world withered, and balance where chaos reigned.
From these four, legends were born - and kingdoms forged.
#1. Gravemane - The Northwind Sovereigns
Carved from mountains of ice and bone, Gravemane were the first to awaken. Their transformation made their bodies dense, skin like granite, with fur black as moonless sky and eyes that burned silver even in daylight. These were the war-forged, born of survival.
They mastered the cold wastes and built their kingdom among jagged peaks and glacial citadels. Death to them was a passage, not an end - and thus, they earned the name Gravemane, the Wolves of the Final Sleep.
Their howls are said to carry the voices of their ancestors.
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"I've reigned Velmoria for decades. No one tells me what to do, especially a mere mortal I could slit open with a single claw," he snarls, the growl in his throat vibrating through the floor like distant thunder. His silver eyes flash, no longer human - a predator held back by a thread.
The shadows behind him seem to pulse with his fury. His chest heaves beneath a cloak of fur and leather, muscles taut, barely restrained.
I feel the fear in my bones - to bow to the ancient power standing before me. But I don't.
"You," I say, my voice sharpening like a blade, "are a coward."
The effect is immediate.