The Secret Heirs of the Lycan King (by Misha K) novel Chapter 94

**When Midnight Winds Carry Secrets Toward Worlds Yet Unknown**

The forest loomed around me, an immense expanse shrouded in darkness, each shadow stretching and twisting like the gnarled branches above. The night air was thick with an unsettling silence, every rustle of leaves sending a shiver down my spine, as if the very trees were warning me to turn back. Clutching the moonball—a soft, glowing orb that illuminated my path with a gentle radiance—I ventured deeper into the woods, my heart resolute. I had to find Scott before the sun rose again.

The moonball shimmered softly in my palm, a beacon of hope guiding me through the night’s oppressive gloom. It felt like a promise, a silent vow that it would lead me to him. I held it tightly, as if it were my only lifeline in a world that felt increasingly alien and hostile.

With each step I took, the devastation around me became more pronounced, more haunting. Trees lay mangled and uprooted, their thick roots clawing at the earth like twisted bones, grotesque reminders of whatever chaos had unfolded. The trunks bore long, deep gashes, as if a furious beast had raked its claws across them, leaving scars that told a story of violence and destruction. The ground was torn apart, soil scattered as if a tempest had swept through, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake. In the dim moonlight, I spotted the still forms of wild animals—wolves, boars, and even a moose—lying lifeless among the debris. A wave of sorrow washed over me, tightening my chest.

“Oh, Scott, where are you?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as I stepped carefully over the broken branches littering the forest floor. “You truly are a storm unleashed.”

There was no anger in my tone, only a deep, aching heart that mourned for both the forest and the boy I loved. He had wrought this destruction while fleeing—fleeing from me, or perhaps from himself. I could not decide which thought pained me more.

I pressed on, weaving between fallen logs and twisting vines, the moonball’s glow urging me forward. Time slipped away unnoticed, an hour passing in what felt like mere moments. Fatigue began to seep into my limbs; my legs burned with exhaustion, and my breaths came in quick, frantic gasps. My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage with every step. I wiped the sweat from my brow and adjusted the dagger tucked into my belt, praying I wouldn’t encounter any wild animals. But fate had other plans for me.

Suddenly, I halted, frozen in place. Three foxes, larger than any I had ever seen, blocked my path. Their fur bristled with menace, and their eyes glowed with an unnatural brightness. They snarled in unison, a chilling chorus that sent a jolt of fear through me.

“Please, no,” I stammered, feeling the moonball dim in my grip. Panic surged within me as I quickly stuffed it into my pocket and grasped the dagger tightly with both hands. My palms turned clammy. I had never faced a chicken, let alone three full-grown foxes. “Shoo! Hush! Go away!” I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice.

But my rotten luck was at its peak. The first fox lunged at me.

Pure instinct kicked in; I swung the dagger upward. The fox’s body collided with my arm, and the blade found its mark, slicing across its chest. It yelped in pain and stumbled back, writhing on the ground.

Before I could catch my breath, the second fox darted at me from the side. I ducked, losing my footing on a jagged rock. My dagger barely grazed its fur, but it turned with a furious growl, poised to attack once more.

“Oh God, Scott, you owe me for this!” I shouted into the void, fear gripping my heart.

Then, without warning, the third fox leapt at my shoulder, its claws ripping into my jacket, tearing through the leather like paper. I screamed, twisting my body instinctively and jabbing the dagger backward. The poisoned blade sank deep into the fox’s flesh. It convulsed before collapsing.

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