The Revenge Pact: The Heiress and the Lycan Prince

What do you get when you mix the modern world with millennia of history, culture, power and… oh...

Werewolves.

Vicious, deadly and primordial, Werewolves.

Four-word answer:

The Kingdom of Lycania.

This is the ancestral land of all Werewolves and... Lycans.

But it is not just any kingdom. It is an enigma. A land so powerful it is now recognised by the human world. Lycans reign supreme, being a race of pure-blooded Werewolves with undiluted genes, as opposed to regular Werewolves, whose blood has been diluted by Humans over the centuries. As a result, Lycans are seen as nobles and royalty in all Lycania, while Werewolves are of a lower, yet still respectable class. Lycan bloodlines trace back to the earliest ages, their power unmatched by anything this world has ever seen. Stronger, faster, and more resilient than the Werewolves who share their world. Unlike ordinary Werewolves, Lycans possess unique qualities, extraordinary abilities, and longer lifespans. Lycans can live up to 300 years. Werewolves rarely see beyond 100...

There are six noble families of Lycania. Six kingdoms, once separate, now unified after the brutal Lycan Wars fought hundreds of years ago. These are the Houses: Draknys, Morvayne, Vorathiel, Avarnys, Rhaelyor, which is the ruling house of Lycania, and lastly, Xalveria.

Alina's family...

She is known formally, as the Lady Alina of House Xalveria, daughter of Lord Alinos and Lady Kaela Xalveria. She comes from the original bloodline of Xalverian Wolves, hence the title. And though there are many belonging in her House, 1000s of descendants of the original Xalverian Wolf, her bloodline is the purest.

The Houses were once considered tribes, or even races, or nationalities, but after their numbers diminished, those tribes became the noble Houses. To preserve the purity of blood, Lycans are only allowed to marry within their House.

Like the other Houses, House Xalveria is ancient. Powerful. Dangerous.

They are known as the White Wolves, and the rarest of their kind. Born with gifts others would kill to possess. Members of House Xalveria are known for their snow-white and platinum hair, melanated skin in shades from deep dark to rich brown, and eyes of silver, blue, or grey. Their blood runs strong with power... but power, as always, comes with a cost.

The world is dangerous. And it knows they exist.

With Werewolves out in the open, Hunters, Humans who’ve mastered the art of killing their kind, now pose a threat. So do other supernatural factions. Vampires. Witches. Old enemies waiting in shadow. Even under the rule of the powerful House Rhaelyor, Lycania remains a powder keg of ambition and bloodlust, and peace is a fleeting illusion.

In this world, you either conquer… or you fall.

And Alina Xalveria is born to conquer. The heiress of the Xalverian empire.

That now brings us to the present.

Alina wakes in a panic, her body lurching upright as her lungs gasp for breath. Her hand flies to her chest, fingers spread across her skin as she tries to match her breathing to the violent rhythm of her heart. Her other hand runs instinctively through her long pure white hair, damp with sweat.

Something feels wrong.

The night carries an unease, a wrongness that clings to the air and sinks into her bones before her mind catches up. She sits motionless in her wide queensized bed, eyes sweeping the moonlit shadows of her chambers. The only light spills from the full moon beyond the tall windows, bathing everything in silver.

And then it hits her, a scent... no, not just one... multiple ones. All of which are unfamiliar to her.

They are faint, but her heightened senses make them easy to pick up. Then, another scent. Smoke... fire...

Then come the screams and commotion, echoing in the air, distant and terrified. The realisation causes adrenaline to pump through her body, and with that, the truth crashes down on her...

Castle Xalveria is under attack.

A knock rattles the door, sharp and urgent, and immediately pulls her fully to her feet. The cold marble floor presses against her soles as she moves, her silver robe swirling behind her. Any ordinary person would be distrubed by the chill. But not Alina. Not when she is the cold. Her night dress clings to her frame as she walks forward, her mind already racing ahead of her body.

“Enter,” she calls, voice loud and powerful. Her voice is sultry, naturally deeper than most women, leaving her more alluring and mysterious. Fists tighten at her sides as she prepares to face whover is on the other side, but when the chamber doors swing open, it's two guards that step inside, their faces pale, their movements stiff and wary as they move towards her. Once they reach, they bow deeply before her, but their posture betrays the panic they try to conceal.

“My lady,” one begins, his voice low and trembling, “We must escort you to safety, we are under attack...”

She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. She already knows.

Their words confirm what her instincts have been screaming.

Alina exhales, slow and deeply, and steps closer, eyes narrowing as her mind shifts into control. She cannot afford chaos. Not now.

“By whom?” she asks, voice calm, cold. Beneath her skin, her wolf stirs, bristling with fury, ready to tear and rip and protect.

The guards glance at each other uneasily. “We don’t know,” the other one answers. “They wear no colours. No banners. They’ve breached the outer gates and have found their way into the castle.They are killing everyone in sight, and are armed with Rezionite enforced blades.”

Her jaw tightens. Rezionite. The only element in this world powerful enough to kill even the strongest of Lycans.

No colours. No banners. A clear choice. Fighting with Rezionite. These are not mindless rebels. These are orchestrated assassins, hiding their allegiance, wanting confusion to cloud the battlefield...

She hears a voice in her memory, her mother’s, soft but still stern.

Stay calm, no matter what.

Alina inhales through her nose, steadying herself, her silvery blue eyes sharpening.

She pushes past the guards, stepping into the corridor beyond. “Secure the inner keep,” she orders. “Find my parents. Protect the guests. No one is to be left unguarded.”

The guards hesitate. Their loyalty to her is instinctual, protective, but she doesn’t give them the chance to protest.

“Go,” she commands again, sharper this time.

They bow once more and vanish into the hallway, their footsteps lost amid the rising chaos echoing through the castle walls...

Whoever is doing this, Alina will find them... and they will pay for their treachery.