CAPTIVEEN

1368 A.D.

The girl opened her eyes slowly, trying to understand where she was and what had happened, and the first thing she saw were the pure silver shackles locked around her wrists and ankles. Then all the memories came to her at once: she had been captured.

After more than a year of fierce pursuit, it had finally been impossible for her to evade her enemies, and now the die was cast. As soon as they reached the palace they would kill her.

She looked around and saw the entire detachment of royal guards sitting by the fire, a little more than fifteen feet away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give her she-wolf a chance to escape.

She closed her eyes again, calling to her, and felt her awaken inside her.

“Raksha, you have to go now,” her thoughts whispered to her.

“Never! I'm not leaving you!” her she-wolf whispered back in kind.

“You have to! The general is going to murder me as soon as he sees me, just like he did with the rest of my family!” the girl insisted.

“Then I will die with you! Just like the rest of my brothers died with the lineage of Isrion...”

“Enough, Raksha! You have to leave! Now! That’s an order!”

Never in her entire life had she ever ordered her she-wolf anything, respect and love were more than enough to make her obey her, but she could not allow that same respect and love to end her life.

She leaned forward, resting her hands and knees on the soft earth, and dug her fingers into it to find the strength she needed. She felt, as never before, that every fiber of her soul and body was divided in that intense struggle against her wolf.

On her body, the spirit of the she-wolf began to draw herself out, materializing and growing sharper and stronger, until, with a last effort, the girl managed to expel her completely.

“Hey, she’s doing something...” The screams were heard in the distance as her body collapsed to the ground, exhausted and weak.

“Go away, Raksha... please...” she begged her. “As long as you survive, we’ll both have hope... Go away!”

The giant wolf closed her eyes briefly in acceptance, brushed her forehead with her wet muzzle, and seconds later all that was left of her were her footprints on the wet grass of the night.

“Follow her! Catch her!” one of the soldiers ordered, but the girl knew they would not be able to catch her.

No one had ever caught up with the “White Demon”.

“Let’s go!” another voice said. “We have to get to the palace as soon as possible. I don’t want to take any more risks.”

They lifted her up by pulling the chains attached to the shackles, and made her run after their horses. Even without her wolf, she was no ordinary woman, but silver weakened her to unsuspected levels.

Finally, after hours of forced marching, the silhouette of the ancient royal palace rose before them.

“Take her to the glass cell,” the captain of the Guard who received them ordered with a sneer. “The general is already waiting for her.”

Stumbling, they pushed her up a spiral staircase, to the top of the main tower, until she fell at the feet of the only lycan whom she would have killed without thinking had she been able to.

“I have waited for years for the day when I would see you kneeling at my feet,” hissed the general, with a satisfied smile.

The girl raised her head and looked him in the eyes without a trace of fear.

“Only my body is,” she replied.

“And very soon your body, your spirit, and your wolf will be gone. The last descendant of Isrion’s cursed blood will finally die today! And she will die by my hand!”

He saw her smile and only then he realized that something was missing. The girl was incredibly beautiful; even dirty, weak, and tired, she had the bearing of a queen, but that natural beauty lacked something... it lacked... radiance! And the general immediately understood why.

“Where is your she-wolf?!” he shouted, turning to one of the soldiers who had captured her, and the lycan shook his head softly.

“Did you really think I would let you hurt my wolf?” the girl said, laughing. “The years haven’t brought you any wisdom, General! You never deserved to be a lycan; you don't deserve your wolf! And whatever may happen today, you'll never be anything but a miserable, greedy, and cowardly pup!”

Blind with rage, the general reached out his hand to receive a guisarme spear with the tip coated in shiny silver. There was no worse offense than the truth, and they both knew it.

“I no longer care if only you die,” he declared, thrusting the spear point against her chest. “Today, Isrion dies with you.”

A spear plunged... and two screams were heard.