Chapter 12
“Everyone must see this!” Alpha Denzel announced, but no one paid him any attention.
He didn’t try to force it. He knew they would look once the footage began to play.
As soon as the recording started, all eyes turned to the projector.
On the screen, Samira was seen entering the kitchen, dressed as a supply officer. She carried a clipboard in one hand and a small sealed box in the other.
“I’m here to deliver Alpha Denzel's order,” she said.
“What order?” a guard asked.
“New blood supplies,” she responded smoothly.
One of the guards gestured toward a cupboard beside him.
Samira walked over, her back turned to the camera.
The CCTV didn’t capture exactly what she did, but it was clear. She was the one who had stolen the blood.
Once she was finished, she bowed and left the culinary hall.
The footage ended.
“I don’t know her, and I never authorized any delivery from her,” Denzel stated firmly.
“Isn’t she one of the warriors I sent to the Veridia region?” the Moon Lord asked.
“She is,” Denzel confirmed.
“Call Alpha Ethan immediately. He needs to be notified. There’s a traitor in his midst,” the Moon Lord ordered.
“I already called,” Denzel replied. “They told me Zayron had killed her. She was his rejected mate and wanted to destroy him.”
The Moon Lord let out a slow breath, his expression darkening.
“I’m only sad that she succeeded,” he said quietly. Then he turned to Ana.
“Set her free,” he commanded before heading toward the exit, his every step heavy with sadness.
“Your eminence!” Alpha Denzel called, and the old man halted.
“What are we going to do about Zayron? Is he going to remain like that forever?” Denzel asked.
“Shadow Casting is permanent,” the Moon Lord said gravely. “If not removed within a short time, it becomes one's permanent thinking. In the case of Zayron, it has already become irreversible. Even the first blood can't save him now.”
Denzel clenched his fists.
“There has to be a way.”
The Moon Lord shook his head.
“There is no way.”
“Oh, my goddess!” Ana muttered under her breath.
“Those who carried the Shadow Casting ability were nothing more than empty names, unawakened, never activated. It is one of the most dangerous spells we, werewolves, begged the Moon Goddess to erase from existence.
And she answered by ensuring that no she-wolf was ever born with the first blood again.
When we were young, those who were mistakenly born with the first blood were killed as soon as they were born.”
“Moon Lord, what about the one whose blood was used for the Continental Healing?” an Alpha asked.
“According to Queen Elara, the she-wolf did not come from here. She came from the realm of the Vyrekins. And tonight, she will return there. She was never meant to be a threat to us. But we failed to monitor the process. We failed to stop the blood from leaking out. And that failure, Denzel, is yours to bear.”
The Moon Lord’s gaze darkened.
“When your mother first told me about this Continental Healing, I asked her: ‘Will the blood be safeguarded well enough to prevent a disaster like this?’
And now, here we stand. The healing saved thousands of werewolves, but in return, it stopped our Decennial meeting and took our greatest warrior from us.”
Moon Lord exhaled sharply, his expression filled with sorrow.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the hall.
Silence stretched long after he was gone.
One by one, the others began to leave, their footsteps echoing like the fading remnants of hope.
As the hall emptied, Alpha Denzel approached Ana and stopped in front of her.
“I just saved you. I think I deserve some flowers,” he said with a grin.
“You didn’t save me. You just told the truth,” Ana replied, turning to leave.
She was frustrated that while everyone mourned what had happened to Zayron, Denzel, the one responsible, acted as if he didn’t care.
Denzel grabbed her wrist, halting her.
“Not so fast, Omega,” he muttered, pulling her closer.
He leaned in, his intentions clear, but before he could kiss her, Ana placed her palm against his face, stopping him.
“I need to talk to Kayla,” she said firmly.
Denzel exhaled, then smirked.
“Come with me.”
He led her to his hotel room and handed her his communication device.
“Type in the name of the pack and send a message,” he instructed. “I’ll be right back.”
Ana took the device and sat on the edge of his bed, her fingers moving swiftly as she tried to contact Kayla.
Back in the Veridia region, Zayron walked back to the spot where the Shadow Caster lay.
He knelt beside her lifeless body, his hands trembling as he reached for her cold fingers.
He held them gently, his head bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched the blood-soaked ground.
His chest rose and fell with deep, silent breaths, but no words left his lips.
The night stretched on, the wind howling through the Veridia region, but Zayron did not move.
Midnight came, and he finally rose to his feet.
Something had changed in him.
His face, once filled with fury and pain, was now blank, empty, like a man who had lost not just a battle, but a part of himself.
His eyes, once burning with the fire of an Alpha, now held nothing but a chilling void.
His body moved, but his soul seemed absent.
Without a word, he took off, running at full speed into the dark woods.
The other Alphas, who had been watching him from a distance, exchanged worried glances before rushing after him.
“Zayron, wait!” one of them called, but Zayron didn't stop.
He ran faster, his feet barely touching the ground as if he had become something beyond human, beyond wolf.
His mind had only one thought: destruction.
Ahead, another pack lay waiting.
The Asian wolves had already taken control of it, and word had spread that Alphas had arrived to challenge them.
The invaders stood ready, armed with weapons laced with silver, their eyes sharp and prepared for battle.
But they were not prepared for Zayron.
He tore into them like a storm.
His claws ripped through flesh, his teeth sank into throats, and his strikes were swift, merciless.
He moved like a shadow, slipping through their defenses before they even realized he was there.
One by one, they fell.
Their cries of pain echoed into the night, but Zayron heard nothing, felt nothing.
He was not fighting. He was erasing them.
The other Alphas caught up, watching in stunned silence as Zayron slaughtered every single enemy in his path.
There was no hesitation, no moment of pause.
It was over before they could even think to join the fight.
They all knew Zayron was unbeatable, but they had never seen him in action, and so they were dumbfounded.
When the last enemy fell, Zayron stood in the middle of the massacre, his hands dripping with blood.
His breathing was steady, unnaturally calm, as if what he had just done meant nothing.
He turned slightly, his gaze distant, and then, without a word, he ran off again.
“Alpha Zayron!” one of the Alphas shouted.
Another ran after him, reaching out to grab his arm, but Zayron dodged without even looking back.
“We need to stop for the night,” another Alpha called.
“We have to rest. We can continue tomorrow! We are hungry!”
Zayron didn’t respond.
It was as if he had lost the ability to speak, as if the death of the Shadow Caster had taken not just his voice, but the last piece of his humanity.
Then, without warning, he bolted again.
“Damn it,” one of the Alphas muttered.
They had no choice but to chase after him, following their leader into the darkness, hoping they could keep up before he lost himself completely.
Before dawn, Zayron had successfully reclaimed three packs.
Only one remained.
Meanwhile, Alpha Dracon sent word to the Great Southern Council, and their response was a mix of relief and sorrow.
They were glad their lands were being restored, but what had happened to Zayron brought them no joy.
He was a warrior they had been proud of, a leader who had once been the strongest among them.
Since the Decennial meeting had been canceled, the Great Southern Council announced that a new date for the meeting would be decided later.
With nothing more to discuss, most of the Alphas who had gathered for the summit returned to their respective packs, carrying with them the tragic news of Zayron’s fate.
However, two packs remained unaware of what had happened, Azure Moon Pack and Silver Mountain Pack.
On February 14, Zayron and the other Alphas leading the Peace Restoration Campaign had succeeded in reclaiming all their lands.
Their message to the Asian wolves was clear: stay within your own borders, or suffer the consequences.
Though their mission was technically complete, the Alphas decided to remain for a few more days, ensuring stability before returning home.
That same morning, the Moon Lord sent a transmission to all Alphas’ devices.
His voice carried across the entire continent, reaching every werewolf pack.
His tone was solemn, filled with both regret and urgency.
“To all the wolves of our lands, I bring you a challenge and a plea.
Alpha Zayron, our greatest warrior, has fallen victim to the irreversible grip of shadow casting.
It is a fate no werewolf has ever escaped.
Not even the first blood can bring him back.
But I refuse to believe there is no way to save him.
Therefore, I make this promise: To any wolf who discovers a way to break this curse, I will relinquish my title as the spiritual leader, perform a soul transfer with the person and make them the spiritual leader of all the Romanian wolves.
No rank, no bloodline, no strength shall be considered.
If there is a solution to be found, let the mind that uncovers it take my place. ”
The message was sent to every werewolf pack across the continent.
But in Silver Mountain Pack, one wolf hadn’t heard it yet.
Kayla.
She hadn’t checked her device.
She hadn’t even stepped into her office since returning from the Obsidian Tower.