The Unknown Lycan Heir The Lycan Trilogy Book 1

Seren Duskbane POV

The air was sharp, laced with the bitter bite of winter as I crouched in the dense underbrush. My breath fogged in the moonlight, dissipating into the night as quickly as my patience. Somewhere in the forest ahead, a lone deer moved, its hooves crunching softly against the frozen ground. I had been tracking it for nearly an hour. Hunger gnawed at my insides like a caged animal, and I had no intention of returning to camp empty-handed.

I adjusted my grip on the bow, the smooth wood familiar beneath my fingers. Every sound felt amplified in the stillness: the creak of my boots against the frost, the soft hum of the wind rustling through skeletal branches. For a rogue like me, survival wasn't a luxury-it was a daily battle. And tonight, the stakes were higher than ever.

I drew the bowstring taut, the tension singing in my ears, and exhaled slowly. The deer lifted its head, ears swiveling as if sensing my presence. My heartbeat slowed. One more second...

A twig snapped behind me.

I spun instinctively, the arrow releasing from the bow with a hiss. It struck the trunk of a nearby tree with a dull thud, far from my intended target. My hand flew to the dagger at my belt as a shadow emerged from the darkness.

"Easy, rogue," came a deep, gravelly voice. The figure stepped into the moonlight, revealing a man with piercing silver eyes that seemed to cut through the night. His dark hair framed a face both sharp and rugged, like a predator carved from stone.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, keeping my blade steady.

His lips curled into a faint smirk. "I could ask you the same question. But I already know."

My muscles tensed. "I don't care who you think I am. You've cost me my dinner."

"Dinner," he echoed, his tone dripping with amusement. He gestured toward the fleeing deer, its white tail vanishing into the trees. "Apologies, but I wasn't aware you'd staked a claim on all the wildlife in this forest."

"Do you always sneak up on people, or am I just lucky tonight?"

He took a step closer, and I resisted the urge to retreat. There was something unsettling about him-not just his sudden appearance but the way he moved, deliberate and fluid, like he owned the ground beneath his feet.

"Seren Duskbane," he said, his voice low but unyielding.

The sound of my name falling from his lips sent a shiver down my spine. "You've got the wrong person."

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the air between us seemed to still. "No," he said. "I don't."

I tightened my grip on the dagger, adrenaline surging. "If you're here to settle some grudge, get in line. But I'm not going anywhere without a fight."

His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "I'm not your enemy, Seren. I'm here to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"The prophecy."

The word hung in the air like a thunderclap, and my heart skipped a beat. I'd heard whispers of it before, fragments of old stories told around dying campfires. A prophecy that foretold of a child born to unite-or destroy-the Lycan kind. But what did that have to do with me?

"You've got the wrong rogue," I said, shaking my head. "I don't believe in fairy tales."

He stepped closer, and this time I did retreat, my back pressing against the rough bark of a tree. "You don't have to believe," he said. "But that doesn't make it any less true."