Claiming My Lycan King

Amby Moonflower grasped the heavy axe, its worn handle biting into her calloused palms. She swung it in a wide arc, the blade biting into the unyielding wood. The rhythmic chop-chop-chop echoed through the forest, a cadence that had become her solitary companion since dawn.

Hours of relentless labor had taken their toll. Her muscles screamed in protest, her shoulders aching from the repetitive motion. The weight of her exhaustion pressed upon her like a physical force. The gardener quit his job the previous week because her uncle was owed him wages and his tasks naturally fell on Amby.

A rumbling stomach growled its discontent, hunger pangs sharp as talons. A mighty yawn overtook her, a primal release of fatigue. Her jaws stretched wide, the vertebrae in her neck cracking in protest. She closed her eyes, letting the yawn consume her, and threw her head back, surrendering to its primal intensity.

The momentary bliss was shattered.

SLAP!

The crack of her uncle's palm against her cheek was like a lightning bolt, splitting the air.

Amby's world reeled, her vision blurring. Pain exploded across her cheek, a searing brand.

Her eyes stung, tears springing forth. She stumbled backward, the axe slipping from her grasp.

Its heavy head thudded into the earth, vibrations resonating through the soles of her feet.

Her uncle's face twisted in anger, his eyes blazing.

"Lazy girl!" Williams' venomous voice echoed through the cramped, dingy cottage. "You'll never amount to anything, wolfless and weak as you are."

Amby's hand instinctively rose to soothe the burning skin, her heart racing from the shock. She knew better than to retaliate, to even meet her uncle's gaze. Submission was her only defense.

"Sorry, Uncle," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Williams's scowl deepened, his eyes flashing with disdain. "Finish your chores, and don't think for a moment you'll get a scrap of food until they're done."

Amby nodded hastily, her eyes cast downward to avoid her uncle's scathing gaze. She scrambled to gather the scattered firewood and kindling, her movements robotic. Dry leaves crunched beneath her feet as she moved the sound echoing through the desolate silence. Her mind numbed a familiar protective shield against the pain.

She mechanically completed her tasks, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. The familiar ache of hopelessness settled in, a heavy weight compressing her chest. Her heart felt like lead, sinking deeper into despair. This was her life: endless drudgery, each chore blending into the next, constant belittling, a relentless barrage of criticism.

The crushing weight of being unwanted, a burden she couldn't shake. Amby's thoughts wandered to her dreams, the promise of a different life. But reality snapped her back, the rough bark of a log biting into her palm.

She arranged the firewood with precision, a futile attempt to control her chaotic world. As she worked, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not here, not now, not in front of him.

As she worked, Amby's thoughts drifted to her parents, gone too soon. Her mother's gentle touch, her father's warm smile – memories she clung to like a lifeline. Would they have loved her if they'd known she'd be wolfless? The question haunted her, a constant refrain.

When night fell, Amby huddled by the fire, her chores finally done. Williams's snores echoed from the adjacent room, a reminder she was alone, unloved, and disposable. As Amby settled into her thin pallet, trying to escape the day's miseries, the door creaked open. Her cousin, Elara, sauntered in, a malicious grin spreading across her face.

"Thought you'd get away with just Father's scolding, didn't you?" Elara snarled, her eyes glinting with malice. "You're such a disappointment, Amby, wolfless, weak, and useless."

Amby closed her eyes, praying for Elara to leave her be. But the younger girl's cruelty knew no bounds.

"Mother says you're a shame to our family," Elara spat, her voice dripping with venom. "If you were anyone else, Father would've cast you out years ago."

Amby's heart ached, the familiar sting of rejection piercing her soul. She'd grown accustomed to her uncle's cruelty, but Elara's words cut deeper.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Amby whispered exhaustion and despair creeping into her voice.

Elara's laughter sliced through the air, a cold, mirthless sound that sent shivers coursing down Amby's spine. The words that followed were venomous.

"You're not worthy of kindness, wolfless. You're nothing but a servant, a tool for us to use."

Each syllable struck Amby like a physical blow, her body flinching inward. Her heart shriveled, self-worth seeping away like sand in an hourglass. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, hot and rebellious. But Amby's pride refused to surrender. She clenched her jaw, biting back the emotion. Her gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding Elara's triumphant smile. The stone beneath her feet seemed to grow colder, as if absorbing her pain. Amby's breath hitched, her chest tightening.

She felt herself shrinking, diminishing under Elara's scorn. Her shoulders curled inward, protecting her fragile core. But still, she stood. Still, she resisted. A spark within her refused to be extinguished. As long she was still living, she had hope, of a possible better life.

As Elara turned to leave, her parting shot struck Amby like a physical blow.

"Father's selling you to the Lycan King tomorrow. You'll make a fine palace servant – or perhaps a plaything for the royal guards."

Amby's eyes almost dropped from their sockets at Elara's words. The door slammed shut behind Elara, plunging Amby into darkness. The weight of her words crushed Amby, her mind reeling with the implications.

Sold to the Lycan King? Tomorrow?

Amby's world was crumbling, and she was powerless to stop it. Her mind raced, her thoughts consumed by the terrifying prospect of being sold to the Lycan King. The darkness seemed to closing in around her, suffocating her.

She remembered the whispered tales of girls sold to the palace: stories of brutal treatment, forced servitude, and shattered dreams. The Lycan King's reputation was whispered in fearful tones – ruthless, powerful, and merciless. Amby's heart pounded, her breath catching in her throat. What would become of her? Would she be forced to serve the king's every whim, or worse, become a plaything for his guards?

Tears streamed down her face as memories flooded her mind: the girl from the neighboring village, sold to the palace and never seen again; the whispers of cruel punishments and merciless discipline.

Amby's thoughts plunged into a dark abyss, despair wrapping around her like a shroud. She was nothing more than a commodity, a pawn to be used and discarded. Her wolfless status branded her as damaged goods, undesirable to her own family. The weight of their rejection crushed her, a boulder pressing upon her chest.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice cracking with anguish.

"Why am I wolfless at twenty-three? Why did my parents die? Why am I in this terrible world?"

The sound barely escaped her lips, a fragile plea lost in the oppressive silence. Her words hung in the air like mist, evaporating without answer. The stillness was suffocating, heavy with indifference.

No answer came to her questions. Not only did her uncle's family despise her, it seemed the gods had also forgotten about her. Moon Goddess totally forgot to give her a wolf! Amby felt abandoned, alone in her fear.

The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, darkening her isolation. Her breath came in shallow gasps, as if oxygen itself was scarce. Tears traced hot paths down her cheeks, salted reminders of her worthlessness. Her body trembled, a leaf shaken by an unseen hand. In this desolate landscape, Amby searched for a refuge, but even her own heart offered no solace.

As the night wore on, Amby's emotions seesawed between terror and resignation. She knew resistance was futile; her fate was sealed. With a heavy heart, Amby resigned herself to her destiny. Tomorrow, she would face the Lycan King, and her life would forever change, for worse, she feared. As she drifted into a restless sleep, Amby's mind echoed with a haunting question.

Would she ever find a way to escape, or would she become just another forgotten soul in the palace?