Lýkos Theós

Chapter ΙΙ

Nicandros felt the cushion of a bed. The warm covers of a blanket over him and a cold breeze coming through the window.

A sharp pain shot up his neck as he sat up. The rays from the rising sun slowly cascaded into the room he had been put in.

It was quiet, too quiet.

He could see a city through the side of the room. Each home spread out evenly with enough room to be filled with snow-filled pines. He was atop a hill, overlooking everything.

It buzzed with movement below, clay and stone homes sprawling the landscape. Wooden and tiled roofs covered the elaborate homes that peppered the city, and at the farthest end of the activity of people, stood alone a towering temple with two shining golden bowls of raging fire. It towered over the city, slightly blocking the sun as it rose, seeming to remind the people that it stood there in Parian marble, to be admired and feared. Snarls and growls could be heard from where he lay, sounds he did not recognized as his own people. 

A canopy was set over the bed with the curtains tied back, his body naked under the covers and suspicion egging him out of the room. He remembered little of what happened the night before. Only remembering the smell of his burning pack and the cries of those he was chosen to protect. The innocent people he swore would come to no harm were now piled amongst the ashes of his fallen home. And here he lay, lavish silk covered draping over him, in a room so grand just by the roof her stared at. Carved designs splayed the corners of it, painted in silver and etched with hints of gold. It was painted white, or perhaps it was the marbles natural color, its marked grey smoky swirls painting all over. His bed atoned thinner columns, holding the curtains to cover him. 

Nicandros Paid no mind to the rest of the room, listened closely for any feet walking past the door, hoping that no-one was coming to check on him. An escape from his room was too easy, all he had to do was jump out of the walless side of the room and he'd be free. Out of the grasp of the Lykos Thea. Though who would be stupid enough to run from a said God? From The Queen of lycans? He contemplated the idea, lacking the knowledge of how many guards were posted in a city this grand, he had no real chance at escape. At least not yet. Too much risk lay at the unknown and what good was he dead if he were to find his pack to aid those who remained? Time is what he needed. He needed time to search for the number of guards, to see at what hour they were less active, the see what time She was less active. Then he would escape, then he would find his way home.

He slowly pulled the covers off of him, outstretching his legs, grunting as the soreness from the night before itched into his body. Cold mosaic stone touched his feet. Different from the clay floor that covered his home. He examined the imagine painted onto the floor, watching as the colored stone morphed into a grand moon. A wolf stood in front, head thrown back as if to howl at the grand god in the sky. As if to show that this was where its power came from, a shining star too elaborate to ignore. He grabbed the sheet on the bed, wrapping it around his waist, his clothes no doubt being ripped to sheds when he morphed. His first step he decided, was clothes. 

A knock turned his attention to the door. He could head nothing of what happened outside, the bustling of the city below too present to drown out. The person however, did not wait for an invitation, not allowing Nicandros to even contemplate opening to door.

"Hello King Nicandros, glad to see your up," the man said carrying folded fabric in his outstretched hands.

Nicandros narrowed his eyes and stared at the dark tanned man. His scent carried with him Pines and clay with a lingering smell of the fleshy skin and disease humans always carried with them. They were the lesser species, their smell alone being despised amongst his kind, but his scent seemed masked with the smells that filled his nose. All that had already been carried by the wind.