Dark Lycan (Carpathian)

He was connected to Dimitri. They were brothers and their minds were tuned to one another. “My brother and I are linked in mind, heart and soul. My brother’s soul calls to me. I hear and follow his track.”


As he approached that dim light he knew to be Dimitri’s, another approached as well. Something dark and terrible. Something familiar. Something also calling softly, sweetly to Dimitri. “Encounter, I, the demon who is devouring my brother’s soul.”

Fen knew that sweet, deceiving voice all too well. He would recognize it anywhere. Fen was oldest, Dimitri youngest, but in between there had been Demyan and almost from the beginning, Demyan had shirked duty. He’d been a man of little honor, and it was no surprise to Fen when he had, early on, chosen the path of the undead. Still, it was difficult to discover that his own brother had chosen to give up his soul and become the undead.

After that, Fen had checked on Dimitri often. Over the long centuries, he’d learned that his youngest brother was a force to be reckoned with and he never swerved from his duty, no matter how difficult. It had been Dimitri he had turned to when he realized he was both Lycan and Carpathian, and it had been Dimitri who had provided a sanctuary where he could go when he needed rest and healing. Fen had been the reason Dimitri had chosen brotherhood with the wolves in the wild by setting up sanctuaries for them.

Demyan called to Dimitri’s weary soul, promising him rest. Peace. No pain. Demyan was so busy focusing on ensnaring Dimitri’s light that he never saw Fen coming at him through the darkness. He never suspected Fen would travel so far after his brother.

Anger swept through Fen. Shook him. To think that Demyan had waited all this time, crouched in the darkness, still refusing to accept his responsibilities, waiting for one of his brothers to come in death, angered Fen more than he ever thought possible. Dimitri had fought long with honor in the world, and now, when he was at his most vulnerable, the light in him slowly fading, his own brother planned to steal that honor.

Furious, Fen struck out of the darkness, just as Demyan reached for Dimitri’s flickering light. Dimitri must have sensed danger, even so near death. The spirit light jerked inches from Demyan’s outstretched greedy fingers. Fen caught at his disgraced brother, and wrenched him backward. Demyan felt insubstantial, yet he cried out, a long wail of terror when he spun around and saw his oldest brother Fen ready to do battle.

Nen?m ; o kuly torodak.—In anger, I fight the demon.

He whispered the words into Dimitri’s mind. Into the mind of Demyan. He spoke the greater healing chant in the language of the ancients.

O kuly pél engem.—He is afraid of me.

He stared into Demyan’s eyes. You should fear me. How dare you think to steal our brother’s soul.

Tatijana, call down the lightning, give it to me, Fen whispered into her mind. He felt her immediate reaction, the hot energy sizzling through her.

Staring into Demyan’s eyes he repeated the next line of the healing chant. Lejkkadak o salamaval.—I strike his throat with a lightning bolt.

Demyan tried to run but it was too late—the lightning bolt followed Fen down the tree of life and struck with precision at Demyan. For a moment the world below lit up and Fen could see the other shadowy beings, red greed-filled eyes, watching nightly as pure souls of light passed beyond their reach. They waited, as Demyan had, for one who would recognize their voice and was not yet into the next realm, one so near death, but not yet dead.

The creatures had drawn close—too close—drawn not by Dimitri’s waning light, as they could not call to him, but pulled by the scent of Fen’s blood. He had open wounds he had not yet cared for. How bad the wounds were he didn’t know, nor at that moment did he care.

The spear of lightning sizzled through the darkness and Demyan fell back as did the other hungry creatures, blinded by the shocking white sword of pure electrical energy cutting through absolute blackness.

Fen caught the paperlike form of Demyan in his powerful hands. With the force of both Lycan and Carpathian, Fen held his disgraced brother still, face-to-face, looking into his eyes. “I break his body with my bare hands.”

Demyan shook his head, knowing what came next in the healing chant, but no sound escaped. There would be no mercy. Fen had none for him.

“He is bent over and falls apart.” As Fen chanted the words, he wrenched the paper figure in two, tore him into shreds and let the pieces fall. “He runs away.” He whispered the words into darkness as Demyan shrieked and wailed, trying to recover the pieces and shrink away before the creatures hovering close turned on him with all their greedy hunger.

Fen turned back to Dimitri’s waning light. The life force was almost gone. “I rescue my brother’s soul,” he said, continuing the healing chant.