Two Alphas, One Prophesy

Under the light of the moon high up in the dark sky, the sounds of cracking bones could be heard up to a mile away. Sounds of howling cries as supernatural beings shift into their werewolf forms.

Sounds of shrill cries as rapiers and claymores are thrust into the hearts of opposing enemies.

The smell of blood could be perceived as it mixed up with the earthly dirt of the ground.

The clashing of swords making a clink clanking sound in a continuous and non-rhythmic way did not raise an alarm. For these were what was known to happen on a battlefield.

Alpha Killian Geryon, the first and most powerful and strongest alpha of the Dominant Blood pack, was engaged in this battle. A battle for his land and his people. A merciless and ruthless alpha. Brutal in his killings, hard-hearted to his enemies, and yet possessed a tenderness unknown to man.

Covered in blood he had drawn from his enemies and a tiny cut slashed on his back, he did not stop. He was hellbent on ensuring he was rid of the pests and nuisances in his territory.

An enemy wolf from the opposing pack, the Nighthawk pack, charged toward him without fear of this man whose hands had slain more than two hundred wolves since he clocked eighteen, six years ago.

With a deep growl coming from the pit of his stomach, Killian advanced towards him and swung his sword just twice, he had the wolf lying dead on the floor with his sword buried deep in the middle of his head.

He was gifted. Gifted by the moon goddess to overcome his enemies. Killian was bold and daring and not a single-man wolf could stand him nor his presence. He did not need a transformation to defeat his enemies or send fear simmering down their bodies. They cowered at his sight.

He was like a god amongst all. Feared by all, hated by many.

What perplexed him was the audacity these wolves had to come to his abode. But this was not the time to figure out the puzzle.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see the warriors of his pack fighting too for the pack and their survival.

With quick, light, and good steps, he charged toward the wolves, attacking his pack members, and within minutes, he rendered all to the ground and they lay in their own pool of blood.

On seeing this, and the death of their warriors increasing, the fewer surviving members of the Nighthawk pack took to their heels. They knew earlier on that they could not take down this alpha. They knew showing up for an attack would only lead to massive deaths, but yet they came. They were only following orders from above.

Killian stood, watching them run with their tails in between their legs like the weak and defeated wolves they were. His sword was in his hand, dripping with blood of the slain. The blood of the guilty and trespassers.

The sweat dripping down from his firm, hard and muscular body began to mix with the blood on him too. He turned around swiftly when he heard the approaching footsteps of a running person. It was his younger brother, Beta Nickel.

"Are you okay, Killian?" He asked in his smooth, caring voice with a worried expression etched along the lines of his forehead.

Killian gave his brother a small smile. It always amused him that his brother worried too much about him. Nickel knew that he was immune to the cuts of the sharp blades of a sword or the sharp poisonous tip of an arrow.

No amount of sword marks or cuts could bring him down.

"You worry too much, dear brother," Killian finally said, and hell was his voice, deeply rich and befitting the princes of the Netherlands. He was indeed blessed all around by the moon goddess.

One could even imagine that this could spring up jealousy among his lots, but then... one was not to judge a book by its cover.

"I have cause to worry. It does not matter if you're invincible. You're still my brother," Nickel said to him, and he nodded.

"Alright Nickel," he began. "Ensure that every pack warrior is fine. I'll head over to the pack house," he said, and Nickel nodded.

Killian walked past him and headed towards the direction that led to the pack house. That was when his thoughts about the attack began to rummage through his mind.

He had been sitting in his study, discussing with his three siblings, when suddenly his ears had picked up the sounds of their walls being invaded. It was at that moment, that one of his loyal subjects, Clyde, came rushing into the study room and announcing that they were under attack and he had wasted no time swinging into action.

The Nighthawk pack had almost surrounded the pack house and he had driven them away from the house and the battle had taken place right in the middle of the territory of the Dominant Blood pack.

He got to the pack house and walked in. What gave the Nighthawk the effrontery to try and besiege his territory? He knew who sent them. Of course, he did. It was no other than that tyrant. Alpha......

"Oh, my goodness!" Tia exclaimed, jolting him out of his thoughts as she ran down the stairs towards him. "Thank goodness you're safe Kill," She said to him and hugged him so tightly the instant she got closer to him. She did not care if he was covered in blood, sweat, and dirt that oozed out a pungent smell. She hugged him regardless of that.

She pulled away from him and her rusty pink colored silk dress was stained.

Killian chuckled as he pinched her nose. "Why do you always have to worry your little head about me, sister? I'm fine Tia," he said. "As always," he added.

She pouted. "It does not matter at all if you're the fearless alpha of this pack that sends fear shivering down the eyes of those that stand before you. You are my big brother and I do have a cause to worry," She said to him and he smiled. Siblings! Their love, care, and worry will never change even if one has the power in the whole world backing him up.

"I'm guided and protected by the moon goddess, Tia. I'm untouchable. Undefeatable. I'm the invincible one!" He said to her.

Tia sighed. "I know you are," She said.

"Disgusting Kill. You look like a mud alien. So much filth!"

Killian raised his head to find his youngest brother, the last child of the Geryon's family, Crispin. He was audacious with a sense of humor. His teasing was usually annoying and undeniably hilarious. He gave a small smile.

"Going for a quick wash," he said to Crispin. Crispin frowned at him and Kill knew what he was angry about. "You're still angry at me for not letting you into the battlefield, is that not right?" He asked Crispin and Crispin looked away.

Kill chuckled again. His siblings were very lucky to see this side of him that no one else saw. Sometimes, when he's viciously angry, they also get a taste of his venomous side.

"We shall discuss that once I'm back down the stairs." He said and turned around, not before noticing the smirk that spread across his face.

Killian walked up the stairs and turned towards the left. Crispin left in the hallway that led to his room. He went into his room and walked into the bathroom. The bathtub was already filled with water and scented oils for his bath. Stripping off the breeches he wore, he stepped into the bathroom for a relaxing bath.

•••

Kill walked down the stairs clad in black breeches and a long white sleeve shirt unbuttoned from the neck down and exposing his well-muscled chest. His broad shoulders could not be distinguished by the shirt he wore.

His slim and tapered waist fitted perfectly in the breeches. His well-defined chiseled jawline was an added excellent feature to his well-molded face.

His dark brown messy hair falling along the nape of his neck due to his bath, highlighted his brown eyes and hazel dilated pupils. He was an example of a perfectionist.

He met Nickel walking into the house and he was already cleaned up too.

"Taken care of the injured warriors?" He asked and Nickel nodded.

"The pack doctor is attending to the injuries of the severely wounded. I ensured that," Nickel said.

"And the scallywags lying dead in my territory?" Kill inquired.

"Set ablaze as you always do," Nickel answered.

"Well done," Kill said and walked past him.

He walked out of Crispin's house where his little brother was. The stable. He was fond of horses like no other.

Kill walked past the well-carved-out statue of wolves aligned at each side of the pack house. He walked past the trimmed flowers with their roots engraved on the pavement.

Taking the dirt route that led to the stable, he got a glimpse of his brother and a black horse. He walked closer and from the lamplight, he saw that the horse Crispin was with was Lightning, his favorite horse.

"Have you not had enough horses for one day?" Kill asked him.

He grinned. "I'll never be tired of horses, brother, and you know that," Crispin answered.

Sometimes, Kill wondered if his brother had gotten over the death of their parents. He recalled how he had traced every one of the murderers involved in the death of their parents and gave them a slow, painful, and agonizing death.

Despite carrying out his vengeance on himself and his siblings, Crispin seemed to be the only one not fulfilled by this.

"I believe we have an unfinished discussion," Kill said to him, and Crispin lifted his head and his eyes finally fell on his brother. He stood up to his feet, nodding.

"Yes, we do. Why do you not want me out on the battlefield? I train every day. I'm old enough and yet, you decline every request of mine to be placed out among the others on the battlefield. Why?" He asked.

Kill did not have a reason either, but he just felt his brother was not ready. He was just eighteen! Maybe he was not being fair. After all, he had fought many wars since he was eighteen.

But Crispin was not like him. Crispin was the opposite of him. Crispin was naive and gullible. He could easily succumb to an enemy. A little training in the fields with a friendly face was not the same as a battle going on with an enemy. Crispin would not understand it even if he said it a thousand times.

"Soon, Crispin. Soon you shall fight hand in hand with me," Kill said to him and a smile crept slowly on his face. That was what he wanted and Kill was aware of that.

Tales of his brutality on the battlefield had spread far and wide and even to the ears of his siblings. What Crispin wanted was to have a first-hand experience of seeing what his brother was doing.

Although, he knew what Kill was capable of. No one needed to tell him this. Not even a soothsayer. He had witnessed a lot in the pack house.

Just then, a warrior came over dragging a half-naked and beaten man towards them. Kill turned around to see them.

"He was caught snooping around the territory and..."

"Set up the gallons and hang him up." Kill interrupted him, his expression hardened as he stared down at the man who was bleeding all over from the wounds inflicted on him and the warrior took him away.

He needed no more explanation about what the man did. Snooping around his territory was enough for him to hang the trespasser.

Crispin wondered what had happened to the caring brother he had been with a few minutes ago.