TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 46: THE GOD-KILLING BLADE

VALORIA WILDEROSE

"W-While I was in t-the rain, I st-stumb-bled across an old g-g-garden with high brick w-walls cov-vered in vines, and I saw this pa-p-painting etched into it that seemed t-to tell a story..." I meet their eyes, gauging their reactions cautiously before continuing. "...At t-the end, there w-was a wo-w-woman po-inting her blade at this m-man..."

They’re both silent, watching me—then share a look, trying to figure out what I’m talking about, until simultaneously their eyes light up in realization.

"Ahh, you mean the myth of the God of Death?" Elodie beats Calliope to it.

I raise a brow. "What’s t-t-that?"

"It’s an old folklore believed to be tied to the origin of Lycans. A myth that’s thought to be untrue," Calliope explains, shaking her head slightly.

"But it could be true..." Elodie teases, holding my gaze and interest all at once, tickling my curiosity even further.

"I’ve ne-never h-heard about it before."

"That’s because His Majesty is appalled by the story and tries his best to stop it from being retold—maybe terrified someone might find out his weakness, because the ballad is tied to him."

Yara, who sits far off on her own, suddenly chimes in from a distance.

The three of us turn toward her simultaneously, watching as she snaps her laptop shut and rises from where she sits, walking closer and settling comfortably on the bed beside us.

All with that same powerful, captivating aura and effortless nonchalance that surrounds her. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Seconds ago, she didn’t even seem remotely interested in what we were doing—and now she’s talking to us again.

To me.

"Long ago, the gods lived in harmony with their creations. There was peace, and there was fairness in the world. But the God of Death and Chaos was not pleased by it, so he terrorized the wolves to provoke his mortal enemy—Goddess Selene. Selene couldn’t touch him, because gods couldn’t harm other gods. So, she chose a warrior among her people—a princess—and gave her the god-killing blade, forged in the sun. It could only be used to kill gods. She used it in her battle against the evil god and killed him to save the werewolves from torment."

Yara’s voice takes on a chilling tone as she recounts the tale, her eyes focused on something far away and distant.

The story is chilling and captivating as I picture it unfolding in my head.

"H-How does th-that tie back to Az-rael?"

"Before he was killed, the god of death perfected his own creation—meant to rival the goddess’s own—the Lycans. One of them, the first and strongest, their leader, was Azrael. He was made to be the embodiment of death and chaos... to bring an end to the world," Yara answers.

"The princess killed the god with her dagger, and then the goddess used the same blade to curse his creation—Azrael—for all eternity, for being an impure creation. Now he can’t die, and lycanthropy spread like a disease," Calliope continues.

"Wow." I’m speechless, amazed by this haunting origin of Azrael I’d never known.

Of course he wasn’t born like a typical person.

He never experienced the love of a family or the desire to be loved by someone. He was created—complete. Manufactured exactly as he is.

It explains his inability to feel guilt or compassion for anything living.

"How does all of this connect to him being able to use black magic?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"How did you...?" they echo together, eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion that drags me back into reality.

Shit.

"I-I he-h-heard him say-saying something ab-bout that," I rush to correct myself, laughing nervously.

Their suspicion melts, replaced by cautious smiles.

"Well, we don’t really know. He never uses it," Calliope offers.

"He believes he’s too powerful to rely on the dark arts, so it’s not a skill he uses often. More like a hobby of his," Yara finishes.

"Okay. Noted." I nod, mentally jotting every bit of this down. "And the blade? After cursing Azrael... what happened to it?"

"Lost in time," Calliope replies. "Some say it crumbled to dust after fulfilling its purpose. Others believe the goddess destroyed it to prevent anyone from killing a god again."

"I say Azrael has it—and it’s hidden somewhere in the castle, waiting to break his curse." Elodie winks, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Another feeling flickers in my chest.

Excitement. Hope. Could it possibly be right under our noses—in this very castle?

I want to ask more, eager to dig deeper, to finally find a clue.

But Yara speaks again, and her voice snuffs out that spark.

"Another baseless myth meant to create an illusion of hope. Even if the blade exists, so what? It’s not like he can use it to claw his way to the heavens and kill the goddess." She scoffs, dismissing the theory.

And I hate to admit it—but it makes sense. If the blade only kills gods, it would be useless in my hands.

I feel my fragile hope start to die again.

Elodie frowns, glaring at her.

"No need to be so cranky about it, Miss My Life Is Over Because I Get To Eat Whatever I Want And Live Comfortably Thanks To A Man I Claim To Hate So Much. Boohoo."

Her sharp words cut through the air, turning it heavy and unbreathable.

My eyes widen. Calliope gasps, genuinely shocked—even though she’s known Elodie longer than I have.

"Elodie, that’s enough," she scolds—harsher than usual, meaning it this time—as she steps between them, cutting off the staring match.

A cold, tense silence fills the room until Yara breaks first, hurt anger blazing in her eyes.

"Fuck this. I’m going to bed," she spits bitterly, turning away after only just joining us.

The three of us watch silently as she crawls into her sleeping bag in the farthest corner, facing the wall.

"We won’t miss you!" Elodie calls after her, sneaking in one last jab—sticking out her tongue in the most childish way, as though Yara could see her.

Calliope sighs like an overworked, exhausted mother and looks up at me with sympathetic eyes.

"I swear they’re best friends... sometimes."

I nod slowly, unable to doubt her.

She knows them best, after all.