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The Hermit King and His Lycan Queen

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Annabel is a young woman who is taken captive by a powerful werewolf named Conri. Conri is the first creation of the moon goddess, and he is said to be immortal and all-powerful. He rules his kingdom with an iron fist, and he is feared by all who know him. Annabel is initially terrified of Conri, but she soon realizes that he is not the monster she thought he was. He is actually a lonely and misunderstood creature who has been searching for a companion for centuries. Annabel eventually agrees to become Conri's queen, and she helps him to soften his rule and become a more benevolent leader.



My feet are on the earth, and I stare up at the glorious sky. The cold wind's quiet whispers are accompanied by the crunch of snow under my feet. A white cloud made of my breath appears in front of my face.

One of the days that I travel the globe is today. I don't have anywhere to rush to and I don't have something specific to do. I live forever. I don't really care about time.

It's impossible to calculate exactly how long I've been alive, but to give you a general idea, I can state that I'm older than the oceans, have gone far enough to see the horizon, and have counted all the stars that have ever been in the universe. My age is just that.

I keep moving forward and come across the white flowering trees, which are the only ones in this snowy area to bear flowers. I frequently visit the pack, and they stand tall, providing for and watching over them. This particular gold-headed Alpha is the owner of River Blue.

I continue to go through the group, passing several people who are unable to see me. One of my abilities is the ability to decide where and when I want to be noticed. Instead of straying like I typically do, my legs now guide me down a purposefully uncharted road.

My steps come to a stop in front of a large home. It's the Alpha's home, I can tell by its size and extravagance. I approach a window and peer into one of the many ones that line the house.

Three girls younger than ten-year-old girls are playing indoors. The first two have gold blond hair, and the third has brown hair. Both of them appear to be a lot younger, perhaps around six, as does one of the gold blond. They are engaged in what seems to be an important conversation. One of the gold blonds is attempting to seize the rose from the brown-haired girl, who is levitating it high in the air.

The brown haired girl has mischievous blue eyes, and her face exudes an innocent warmth. She puts herself in a difficult position so that the gold blond can't easily obtain the rose. The moment the gold blond starts crying, I can tell she's going to cause trouble because her lips start to slightly twist.

Her blue eyes suddenly turn to stare into my silver ones. She suddenly becomes curious and briefly forgets about the blond who is sobbing. When she moves toward the house's front door, which is directly across from the window I was peering in, I take a step back from it.

My legs suddenly pivot to the side and begin to move me toward the edge of the woodland. She turns to look at me as the front door of the house snaps open behind me. I can feel her following me as I keep moving forward. She manages to outpace my large feet while still managing to leave footprints on the perfect snowfall.

I had to turn around to face her when I got to the edge of the woodland because something inside of me was so strong that it wouldn't allow me to leave without seeing her. She is gazing up at me with interest as I glance down at her blue eyes, which are seething with innocence.

"Are you from Divit?" She eagerly asks. Her voice has a delicate, whimsical quality.

I respond, "Yes," while I ponder why she can see me when others can't. We continue to look at each other as time passes. She resists my spell when I try to read her thoughts to find out what she is thinking.

It initially baffles me. Who is this youngster? Why aren't my spells casting on her? I slant my head and look her over from head to toe, then I kneel down in front of her little frame and get down on her level.

The question "Who are you?" I inquire as I get a better look at her enormous blue eyes. They become more persuasive the more I think about them.

She responds, "A mortal," and for a brief second, I'm taken aback. She appears to be close to Seven years old, however she is able to distinguish between an immortal and a mortal.

The question "What are you thinking?" I inquire while cocking my head to the side. This youngster is unique. Her aura has the potential to draw the attention of the entire cosmos. She had the ability to draw anyone to her like a magnet.

The question "Do you have a mate?" She inquires, and I'm once more taken aback by the child's intelligence. She seems too young to be aware of mates, but perhaps she doesn't fully understand what mates entail. I respond, "No," feeling the cavernous hole in my chest.

I am not dating anyone. I am unable to find love. The Hermit God is who I am. I prefer to be the only one in charge. If there is no Queen, I am a King. One quality that distinguishes me from other wolves is this one.

When I replied, she  turned to face the Petalin her palm and then looked back at me. She approaches and hands me the rose. I turn to face her after looking at the rose. She grinned broadly, displaying her baby teeth.

She calls me "Mate," in a fun manner, which surprises me. I'm not sure whether she truly understands what a mate is. While I'm kneeling in the ground, wishing for a mate I'll never have, she turns around and walks back to her house in the snow.




I glance up at him, his statue, as I stand beneath his silhouette. His icy, unresponsive, melancholy, yet somehow attractive eyes pierced into me. His statue seems so lifelike in the night that I feel as though he is actually there, observing me and enjoying seeing how miserable I am.

I utter the words, "I don't believe in you," in a jumble that would be nearly hard for a typical person to understand.

I lift the alcohol bottle to my lips and drink half of it while keeping my eyes fixed to his statue, hoping that somehow my suffering and annoyance will somehow escape into it as the booze passes down my throat.

The moon is hidden by a thick layer of dark clouds, and the icy night breeze fluffs my hair as little snowflakes slowly fall to earth.

"I don't trust you," she said. I scream once more, and this time, the remains of the once-massive castle reverberate with my voice. He used to dominate


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