Chapter 11 The Red Moon Rising
The wind howling through the Grey Peaks felt like the screams of a thousand vengeful spirits, matching the storm brewing in my own chest. I sat on the cold stone of the altar of purity, my fingers trembling as I brushed a lock of silver hair away from Leo’s pale forehead.
He was so small, so innocent, and yet he was the centre of a war that spanned generations.
The blood from my palm—the silver, glowing ichor of the Moon Lineage—dripped onto the dark obsidian, sizzling like water on a hot stove.
The pain was a distant hum, eclipsed by the sight of the woman standing at the edge of the torchlight.
Sienna.
She looked different. The polished, porcelain Luna of the Black Mountain was gone.
Her hair was lank, her eyes sunken and rimmed with a feverish, desperate red.
She didn’t look like a wolf; she looked like a corpse being animated by sheer hatred.
“You really should have stayed at the bottom of the river, Elara,” Sienna hissed, her voice echoing strangely in the stone amphitheatre.
She took a step forward, the heavy fabric of her cloak snapping in the wind.
“Everything was perfect. Killian was mine. The pack was stable. And then you had to crawl back with these... these abominations.”
I felt the growl before I heard it.
Beside the altar, Killian—still in his massive black wolf form—stepped into the light.
His fur was matted with the blood of the Morrigan assassins, and his golden eyes were fixed on Marcus, who stood slightly behind Sienna with his rifle aimed at my heart.
“Abominations?” I whispered, my voice carrying a chill that caused the torches to flicker and dim.
I slowly stood up, keeping one hand on Leo’s chest. “They are the only pure thing this pack has seen in a century. And you, Sienna? You are nothing but a hollow vessel for your father’s greed.
”
“Kill them, Marcus,” Sienna snapped, her patience snapping like a dry twig.
“I don’t care about the ‘specimens’ anymore.
Just end this.”
Marcus didn’t hesitate.
He was a professional, a man who saw wolves as nothing more than livestock.
He squeezed the trigger of the heavy-duty rifle.
Time seemed to turn to liquid.
I didn’t have the strength for a massive ice dome, not with the anti-magic wards of the Peaks still draining my marrow.
I did the only thing a mother could do. I threw myself over Leo, bracing for the impact of the silver-tipped slug.
But the impact never came.
A wall of black fur and muscle slammed into me, knocking me back against the stone slab.
A sickening thud followed, then the sound of a pained, guttural whimper.
I scrambled up, my breath hitching. Killian was on the ground in front of me.
He had shifted back to his human form mid-air to take the hit.
The silver-tipped bullet had buried itself deep in his shoulder, right where his heart would have been if he hadn’t twisted at the last second.
“Killian!” I screamed, reaching for him.
He gasped, his face turning a greyish-white as the silver began to burn through his veins.
Silver was a slow poison to an alpha, a fire that consumed the wolf from the inside out.
He looked at me, his golden eyes hazy with pain, but he forced a weak, bloody smile.
“I... I missed five years of protecting you,” he wheezed, his hand grasping at the edge of my gown.
“I wasn’t... going to miss... this second.
”
“Don’t you dare die!” I commanded, my silver eyes flashing.
“You don’t get the easy way out, Killian Nightshade!
You haven’t earned your peace yet!”
“How touching,” Marcus sneered, reloading the rifle with a mechanical click.
“The fallen Alpha dying for the rogue he threw away. It’s almost a shame I have to ruin the ending.
”
I looked at the blood on my hands—Killian’s red blood mixing with my silver.
A strange sensation began to vibrate in my skull.
It was the bond. The jagged, broken stump of our soul-tie wasn’t just humming; it was screaming.
My power was feeding off his pain, and his Alpha aura was feeding off my rage.
A bridge was forming. A bridge that shouldn’t exist after a rejection.
“Use him,” the voice of the Silver Queen roared in my mind.
“He is the conduit. You are the source. Together, you are the storm.”
I reached down and grabbed Killian’s hand, locking our fingers together.
“Killian, give me your strength,” I whispered.
“Everything you have. Give it to me.”
He didn’t ask questions.
He closed his eyes, and I felt a surge of raw, golden Alpha energy pour into me.
It was hot, like molten sun, and when it hit my silver ice, it created something entirely new.
White fire.
I stood up, and for a moment, I wasn’t just a woman.
I was a pillar of blinding, celestial light.
The anti-magic wards of the Grey Peaks shattered instantly, the stone pillars surrounding the altar cracking under the pressure of the power radiating from my body.
Sienna screamed, shielding her eyes.
Marcus tried to fire again, but the rifle melted in his hands before he could pull the trigger.
“You want the Silver Lineage?” I asked, my voice sounding like thunder.
I raised both hands. I didn’t send shards of ice.
I sent a wave of pure, absolute energy. It swept across the amphitheatre, vaporizing the remaining Morrigan assassins and slamming Marcus and Sienna back against the rock walls with the force of a tidal wave.
Sienna hit the stone and slumped, unconscious or dead, I didn’t care.
Marcus was pinned, his legs frozen into the mountain itself.
The light receded, and the world went suddenly, violently quiet.
I collapsed to my knees, the exhaustion hitting me like a physical blow.
The red moon was high above us now, casting a crimson glow over the carnage.
A small, soft cough came from behind me.
I spun around. Leo was sitting up on the altar.
His golden eyes were open, but they were different now.
A ring of silver circled his pupils, glowing with a faint, steady light.
He looked at the frozen world around him, then at Killian, who was gasping for air on the ground.
Leo slid off the altar and walked toward his father.
He didn’t look afraid. He placed a tiny, warm hand on Killian’s silver-burned shoulder.
“Be still, Daddy,” the five-year-old whispered.
A soft, golden-silver light pulsed from Leo’s palm.
I watched in disbelief as the blackened skin around the bullet wound began to knit itself back together.
The silver slug was pushed out of the muscle by the sheer force of the child’s will, clattering onto the stone like a spent coin.
Killian’s breath hitched, the colour returning to his face.
He looked at his son—the boy he had never known—and the first tear I had ever seen from him escaped his eye.
“Leo...” Killian breathed.
But the moment of peace didn’t last.
From the entrance of the amphitheatre, the sound of clapping echoed.
Slow. Rhythmic. Mocking.
Silas stepped out of the shadows.
But he wasn’t alone. He was flanked by a dozen warriors in the same black-and-gold armour as the Northern Lycan Empire—but they were pointing their weapons at us.
“Remarkable,” Silas said, his violet eyes glowing with a cold, terrifying intelligence.
“The union of the Alpha and the Queen. The catalyst I’ve been waiting for.
”
I stood up, my heart sinking into my stomach.
“Silas? What are you doing?”
“The Northern King is old, Elara,” Silas said, his voice smooth and devoid of the warmth he’d shown me for five years.
“He wanted a queen to bring stability. But I? I wanted a weapon. And you’ve just proven that your sons are the ultimate weapons.
Thank you for triggering their awakening. I’ll take it from here.”