Chapter 2— Lilith POV
Few Months ago
Werewolves never learn. Like a complete fool, he'd been seduced into my bed, assuming I desired him too. My mistake was permitting him to live long enough to realize the woman wrapped in his arms was a centuries-old, dark, cruel hunter.
His eyes grew large as the glamour slowly slipped from my face, divulging my dark crimson eyes.
One death glance from me was enough to send him backing away. With his cock fully erect, he staggered toward the door. Almost reaching the door, he tried to open it but it was locked, and the keys were with me. A smile tugged at my lips as the Werewolf began to pound the door. I could scent his fear. His panic lingered in my mouth like honey.
I slowly began to walk toward him. I gave him a moment to believe he could defeat me. A deep growl reverberated from his mouth. If I were a young hunter, I would have been shaken by it. But I was old, and even as the man closed the distance between us, I summoned my sword, and slammed it into his chest.
I permitted myself to enjoy the pleasure of hearing him scream as he begged for his life while I finished him. When I was done, the sheets were soaked with blood.
I was Lilith Blackheart — princess and heir to the Blackheart Kingdom, a century-old hunter born in darkness. This house has been my hunting space for years, and the Werewolves my prey. I have killed them more than in my own years.
Even still, their numbers never thinned, nor did their centuries of hatred, as they burned my people alive every day.
As I clutched the werewolf's heart in my hand, I smiled. The Queen Mother would be thrilled at my tenth kill in just one day. My first kill had been at seven, when a werewolf abducted me. The werewolf, observing my diminutive size, tried to take advantage of me. But even at seven, I had the mind and power of an adult. I attacked, killed, and carved his heart, as the tradition requires. The Queen Mother, Morgan, had celebrated my first kill and instructed me to store it in a box. Ever since that day, I'd stored two hundred and seventy hearts in my box. In my world, power was defined by the number of prey hearts you claimed.
Just as I turned around, I found Morgan leaning against the wall. A little ovation was all it took for me to acknowledge that she was pleased.
"I am proud to have you as my daughter, Lilith."
At her words, I quickly climbed down from the bed and fell to my knees, bowing my head.
"Queen Mother."
"Rise."
I stood up.
"Do you know the reason I appointed you as my heir rather than your sister, Scarlett?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"Because of your strong will to destroy the Werewolves and Lycans. You've done an amazing job."
At the mention of my twin, Scarlett, I was suddenly reminded of the bitch. I almost made a sound of disgust. We were common in everything, but I was better than her in everything. Though we were twins, we had a deep-seated and prolonged enmity for each other.
Scarlett loathed me as much as I did, and we could only stand each other when we needed to work against our common enemies. Apart from that, we'd attempted to pull each other's hearts numerous times. Our hatred for each other began when we were sixteen and started training sessions. Morgan wanted a powerful heir to rule the Kingdom after her death, and considering that each of us was interested in the crown, we fought each other. Repeatedly we tried to unalive each other, and the thirtieth time was bloody. Had Morgan not intervened, we would have both lost our lives. After that, she made us swear before her that we would never try to unalive each other again. If we did, she would burn us in front of everyone.
"Morgan, I haven't seen you in twenty days. Considering you never appear during my hunting hours without demanding something, what task did you bring me this time?"
The corners of her mouth lifted softly. "You are right. I've come bearing an assignment for you." She slowly pulled herself from the wall. "This time, it will be slightly difficult. But like other times, I believe you'll make me proud."
"I hope so."
She opened her palm and willed a portrait to appear in her hands. A long time ago, before everything changed, when the witches were still alive, they lived in a garden-like city called Mecayda, which was named after their goddess. Melinda, who was the first being that ever existed, and goddess of the moon, she created Mecayda from her own soul, and from their magic they created werewolves, Lycans, witches, and humans. But the greed of wanting control led the Lycans to tap into something forbidden: chaos magic.
Chaos magic was created by Melinda to destroy and fight away monsters that threatened them in Mecayda city. When Melinda realized that the magic began to feed on her emotions, making her unstable, she banished it.
But when envy and greed consumed the first Lycan, he tapped into chaos magic. With chaos magic, his powers were unlimited, but it made his mental state unstable.
Realizing what the Lycans did, Melinda and her sister tried to banish the magic, but the Lycan fought them, and killed them with the forbidden magic.
The witches were furious when they found out that the Lycans had killed their goddess. They turned to the Lycans and werewolves, and for centuries the war raged on. Witches, though stronger, had issues of fertility, unlike werewolves, and when the war between the two kinds started, their numbers began to decrease.
The last, stronger witches alive devised a plan. They knew it wouldn't take long before Lycans and werewolves eradicated them from the world, so they went back to the city of Mecayda where everything started. With twelve humans at their side, the witches honed them into something dark. From their blood, life, and the chaos magic that Lycans tapped into, they were able to create hunters. Hunters were part witches because of the magic in our blood. After the creation, our hearts burned with only one desire: to see Lycans and werewolves die.
The oval frame was placed in my hands. A young man stared back at me with tanned, golden skin and short dark hair. Naive light-blue eyes glowed from his dark face.
"Who is he?" I asked, even though I knew who he was. A white-hot anger burned through me. I loathed the smiles of Werewolves and Lycans.
"He is the Lycan Prince. Twenty-five years of age. He might look naive and innocent, but be wary of him. Every patch of earth the Lycans step on is tainted with the blood of our people. No water can lessen the spread of bloodshed dug into that land. They have killed far more hunters than you could imagine."
I frowned. Now I wanted to strike the smile from his face.
"You are to meet this boy during the full moon hunt, and when you see him, kill him."
"Or better, have me finish the job and kill the Lycan King?" I asked.
"No." Morgan shook her head. "I desire to see the Lycan King dead, but it's a risky mission. The King is far too dangerous for you to handle alone, Lilith."
"Do you think I'm weak, Morgan?" I asked.
"No. But the Lycan King is very ancient and powerful. He would sense what you are the moment you are close, even though you are disguised with glamour. You should be wary of him."
Still, I believed I could kill him.
"Are you listening to me, Lilith of Blackheart?" she whispered. "You would travel to their world. Attend the full moon hunt, and find a means to kill him."
I nodded.
"This is an important task that must be successful," she continued. "You must kill the Prince or your claim to the throne would be renounced to your sister, Scarlett."
"What?" I quickly stood up. "I am the only heir of the Blackheart Kingdom. You promised me the throne a hundred years ago. Why do you say otherwise now?"
Morgan smiled. "You know, your sister does not have what it takes to take the throne from you. But if you fail, and the throne is passed to her, that would be partly your fault."
I gritted my teeth, stormed out of the house, and stepped into the dark night. When I returned, it would be with the heads of not just the Lycan Prince, but the King himself.
As the night air brushed my skin, I smelled something familiar. I swiftly realized that I wasn't alone. All of a sudden, my back was slammed against a tree by a cloaked figure. The brown skin and familiar smirk gave her away.
"Scarlett, bitch." I smirked, then instantly propelled her toward the opposite tree.