BURNING BETRAYAL - VOL 1

BURNING BETRAYAL - VOL 1

Dream Writes

5.0
Comment(s)
1
View
16
Chapters

In a world torn apart by ancient hatred between Lycans and vampires, a cunning betrayal shatters a fragile peace. After centuries of imprisonment, the formidable vampire matriarch known as *the mother* is freed by a corrupted Lycan. With vengeance in her heart, she seeks to reclaim her lost power and unleash chaos upon both species. As alliances shift and secrets unravel, a young werewolf alpha and a human scholar must unite their people and confront their own demons to stop *the mother* before it's too late. But in the shadows, betrayal lurks, threatening to destroy them all.

Chapter 1 History

The air was electric with tension as the lycans gathered in the grand hall, their voices echoing off the stone walls. The king, a towering figure with piercing yellow eyes and a thick, gray-flecked beard, stood atop a raised platform, his presence commanding attention. He raised his arms, and the chorus of roars subsided into a hushed silence.

"My dear brethren," the king began, his voice like thunder,

E"the time has come to defend our very existence! For centuries, we have lived in the shadows, tolerated by the vampires but never truly accepted. But we will not be silenced! We will not be enslaved!"

The lycans erupted into a frenzy of cheers and snarls, their fists raised in defiance. The king's eyes blazed with determination as he continued, "We know the vampires' power, and we know the terror of 'the Mother.' But we will not be intimidated! We will fight with every fiber of our being, with every claw and tooth, to protect our kind and our way of life!"

The Mother, the strongest vampire in existence, was a legendary figure, feared and revered by both sides. Her powers were said to be boundless, her strength and speed unmatched. But the lycans were not deterred. They knew that their own unique abilities, their capacity to transform and adapt, made them formidable opponents.

As the king finished speaking, a chorus of howls and growls filled the hall, a primal declaration of war. The lycans were ready to face their enemies, to fight for their freedom and their future. The stage was set for a conflict that would shake the foundations of their world, a war that would leave only one side standing.

The war started.

The king of the lycans, his fur matted with blood and his eyes blazing with defiance, stood tall despite the overwhelming odds. The Mother, her eyes blazing with fury, sneered at him, her fangs bared. The air was heavy with the stench of death and sweat as the two enemies clashed.

"You are no match for me, lycan," The Mother taunted, her voice like a cold breeze. "I have lived for centuries, and my power is boundless. You are but a mere mortal, a fleeting moment in the annals of time."

The king, his chest heaving with exhaustion, his muscles screaming in agony, refused to back down. With a snarl, he launched himself at The Mother, but she was too quick, too strong. She struck him with a blow that sent him crashing to the ground, his vision blurring.

As The Mother's grip closed around his throat, the king's vision began to fade. He flailed wildly, desperate to break free, but her hold was unyielding. In a last-ditch effort, his hand closed around a nearby wooden stake, and with a surge of adrenaline, he plunged it into The Mother's chest.

The Mother's eyes widened in shock, her grip on the king's throat loosening as she stumbled backward. The king, gasping for air, took advantage of the reprieve to strike again, and again, and again, until The Mother lay weakened on the ground.

The vampires, sensing their leader's distress, faltered in their attack. The lycans, emboldened by their king's bravery, launched a fierce counterattack, taking advantage of the vampires' momentary weakness. The tide of the battle turned, and the vampires were soon in disarray, fleeing in terror as the lycans pursued them with fierce determination.

As the dust settled, the king of the lycans stood victorious, his chest heaving with exhaustion, his eyes fixed on the fallen form of The Mother. He knew that this was far from the end, that the war would rage on, but for now, he savored the sweet taste of triumph.

The lycans, still reeling from the intensity of the battle, gathered around their king, their faces etched with a mix of exhaustion and triumph. The king, his fur still matted with blood, his eyes still blazing with adrenaline, stood victorious over the fallen form of The Mother.

As they caught their breath, they realized that The Mother was not dead. Despite the wooden stake still lodged in her chest, despite the flames that had engulfed her body, she still drew breath. Her eyes, though dimmed, still burned with an otherworldly intensity.

The lycans exchanged uneasy glances. They had never seen anything like this before. They knew that The Mother was ancient, powerful, and seemingly indestructible. They also knew that they couldn't let her roam free, not after all the destruction she had wrought.

With a collective effort, they bound The Mother in heavy chains, anchoring her to the rocky floor of a nearby cave. The king, his eyes never leaving hers, ensured that the chains were secure, that there was no way she could escape.

As the days passed, the lycans kept a watchful eye on their prisoner. They left her without food and blood as she grows weaker, kept her in darkness, despite all these, she was still breathing. They knew that she was waiting, biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to strike back.

The king, haunted by the memories of the battle, couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over. He knew that The Mother's powers were still vast, that she could still manipulate the shadows, still command the loyalty of her vampire followers.

And so, the lycans remained vigilant, always prepared for the next move in this ancient, deadly game of cat and mouse. The king, his eyes fixed on The Mother's chained form, knew that this was a temporary reprieve, that the war was far from won.

The king of the lycans, aware of his mortality, called upon his most trusted advisors and warriors to his chambers. With a weak but determined voice, he spoke of his final wish: to ensure that The Mother of vampire remained imprisoned forever.

He created an oath, a sacred promise that would bind all future kings to this task. The oath was simple yet unyielding: "To keep The Mother chained, to never let her walk free again."

The king's advisors and warriors swore allegiance to this oath, vowing to pass it down through generations of lycan leaders. And so, the responsibility was transferred from king to king, each one reaffirming their commitment to this sacred promise.

As the years went by, the legend of The Mother's imprisonment grew, and the lycans never forgot the horrors she had unleashed upon them. They told stories of her cruelty, of her unyielding power, and of the bravery of their ancestors who had defeated her.

Each new king, upon ascending to the throne, would visit The Mother's prison, reaffirming their oath and ensuring that the chains remained strong and unbroken. They would speak to her, taunting her with her defeat, and reminding her that she would never again threaten their kind.

The Mother, though imprisoned, remained defiant, her eyes burning with a fierce hatred. She knew that one day, a king might falter, and she would be free to wreak havoc once more. But the lycans remained vigilant, their oath unbroken, their resolve unwavering.

And so, the centuries passed, with The Mother remaining a constant reminder of the dangers of complacency and the importance of honor, loyalty, and the unbreakable oath that bound the lycan kings.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.5

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

SHANA GRAY
4.3

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle

The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle

C.D
5.0

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book