Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 300: Waiting

Chapter 300: Waiting

Eldur’s POV

Four days.

That’s how long we had.

Four days of silence that was anything but quiet.

The castle, once filled with gentle echoes of laughter and teasing, now thrummed with something darker—preparation, tension, the heavy breath before a storm.

I stood at the balcony, arms folded, my eyes scanning the valley below. The wind brushed through my hair like it was trying to soothe me. It failed.

Nova still lay in that cursed bed, still breathing—barely—but she hadn’t stirred once. And every second she stayed asleep felt like a dagger twisting slowly through my ribs.

I never thought I could love someone this much. I never thought I could fear so much.

And Margaret?

She would burn.

********

My father was the first to erupt.

Adrian Daegon—stoic even in the depths of madness—lost his grip on calm the moment Elizabeth spoke that cursed name.

"She dared..." he murmured, voice like wind through broken glass. The day Elizabeth revealed Margaret’s betrayal, something ancient stirred in him. "Margaret dared to lay a finger on my family."

He stood in the war room, his fingertips ghosting over the carved wood table—slow, deliberate, like he was already imagining it was her throat beneath them. "She’s forgotten who I am."

Uncle Lucian didn’t flinch. He just gave a slow, steady nod. "Then remind her."

And for once, my father didn’t flash that cold, knowing smile.

His eyes—usually violet-bright—blazed red, a firestorm behind them. The temperature dropped. The air turned to breath-fogging frost. Even steel would’ve cracked in that room.

That night, the preparations began.

The Daegon coven didn’t rise—they awakened. Ours was a relationship that stretched so far into the past, even time dared not forget it. This wasn’t just an old family. It was a legacy. Warriors forged in fire, blood-drinkers who danced with death, mystics who whispered to the stars. All bound by one thing: unshakable loyalty.

The castle wasn’t just a place or only a home to the Vampires who currently lived here—it was a beacon. And they came. More coven members. From across the realm, they emerged like wraiths in moonlight. One by one, then in waves. Eyes sharp. Teeth ready. Silent, but echoing with hunger for war.

The next day, I walked through the great hall and saw them: vampires in sleek obsidian armor, silver weapons gleaming under torchlight. They cleaned their blades like artists sharpening brushes before a masterpiece of violence. Their eyes glowed—not with rage, but with purpose.

And then my father appeared. He didn’t walk—he commanded. Each step was a declaration.

He passed through them like a returning king, not needing to raise his voice. He paused only once, the weight of centuries in his gaze.

"You know what to do," he whispered.

And they did.

They moved as one. Not as soldiers. Not even as killers.

But as a single beast, ancient and furious, with many limbs and one mind.

And it was hungry.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth—my sharp-tongued, exhausted sister—didn’t sleep.

For four days, she walked the perimeter of the valley, her fingers crackling with magic as she etched runes into the trees, poured ancient salts into the earth, and whispered incantations that made the winds shiver.

Liam helped her once. He ended up vomiting rainbows and seeing double for two hours.

Elizabeth didn’t even blink. "He’s lucky it wasn’t fire."

The valley glowed with a soft blue shimmer each night. A barrier. A magical dome of protection Elizabeth had created through sweat, spells, and stubborn brilliance.

"She’ll have to bleed to get in," Elizabeth muttered to me on the third night. Her eyes were rimmed red, lips dry from chanting. "And when she does, I’ll be waiting."

Uncle Lucian and Auntie Teresa were unstoppable.

Every morning, at the break of dawn, they stood in the courtyard, waiting with crossed arms as Mai, Liam, and Ollie stumbled out.

"Again," Lucian barked, throwing a wooden staff toward Liam, who barely caught it before Aunt Teresa sent a blast of wind that knocked him on his ass.

"You’re going to kill us before Margaret gets the chance," Ollie whined, rolling to his feet and dodging a jab from Mai. "I didn’t even eat breakfast!"

"Then you’ll die on an empty stomach," Lucian muttered with a smile, spinning into a perfect roundhouse kick.

I watched them train from a distance. Not because I didn’t want to join. But because Nova needed me.

And I needed her.

My mother trained too—dancing with blades like a storm in human form. But most of her energy was spent at Nova’s bedside with me. She checked her pulse every hour, her hand always gentle, always steady.

"She’s strong," she told me once, brushing Nova’s hair back and setting a cold cloth on her forehead. "Just like you, Eldur."

"I’m not strong," I whispered. "I’m just... angry."

My mother touched my face and smiled sadly. "Sometimes, that’s the same thing."

There were moments—quiet ones—when she left us alone. And during those, I’d talk to Nova like she could still hear me.

I told her about how Liam cried the first time he saw a vampire’s fangs. How Ollie wore socks with tiny wolves on them. How Mai threatened to punch Elizabeth if she didn’t sleep. I told her about my dreams—of running through forests with her at my side, laughing like we’d never been broken.

And I held her hand the entire time.

On the fourth night, the castle held its breath.

It was too quiet. The kind of silence that hums in your bones and warns you—something’s coming.

I was halfway down the corridor toward the armory when the air shifted. A ripple, sharp and cold, brushed against my skin like a whisper made of ice.

Magic.

I turned, already drawing out my claws about to strike, just as Elizabeth blinked into existence in a flash of white light. Her hair was windswept, her expression wild—eyes locked on mine.

"She’s here," she said, breathless.

My lungs refused to move.

"Margaret," Elizabeth whispered. "She’s at the valley’s edge." Her voice wavered now, cracking under the weight of what she felt. "And she didn’t come alone."

Then came the war horn.

A single, thunderous note that shook the walls. It wasn’t just a warning—it was a declaration. The kind of sound that made your heart stall, like the earth itself was screaming.

We rushed to the war hall.

Mai was pacing, her fists dripping blood from punching through stone walls. Liam had already shifted into his wolf form—twice—his body struggling to contain the surge of energy. Ollie sat on a bench, dead serious, chomping on a granola bar like he knew it might be his last.

My parents stood together, solid and composed—my mother’s hand resting gently on my father’s arm. Uncle Lucian and Teresa were already in full battle gear, clad in ancient silver armor that hadn’t seen daylight in centuries. The runes etched into the metal pulsed with a quiet power, ready to wake.

I was the last to enter.

My chest was tight. Something inside me had started to crack open, something deep and old. Aethros stirred.

"She threatens our mate," the voice growled from within me. "She won’t leave this valley alive."

I locked eyes with my father. "What did Elizabeth see?"

He met my gaze, calm but grave. "A coven," he said. "At least forty. All old. All hungry."

"Margaret’s personal guard," Elizabeth added, stepping closer. "She didn’t come for a fight—she came for war."

I nodded, feeling the heat build behind my eyes, silver starting to glow like fire under moonlight.

"Perfect," I said. "So did we."

Outside, the wind rose, howling across the valley like a beast unchained.

The barrier shimmered like a living sun—blue and bright—rippling across the treetops like liquid light.

My chest ached with every step as I turned from the others, leaving behind the war council and the growing storm of strategy. I wasn’t ready to speak—not yet.

Not until I saw her.

Nova.

Her room was still and quiet when I walked in, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing machine. I sank into the chair beside her bed and took her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together like I always used to.

Her skin was still cool. But her lips... they had color today. The softest hint of pink. A spark. A heartbeat whispering, I’m still here.

"I’ll end this," I said, voice low but firm. "You won’t wake up afraid anymore. Not while I’m breathing. Not while I’m fighting."

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple—gentle, lingering.

"I love you, Nova."

Just a whisper. Fragile as glass. But it was true. Real.

And that truth gave me strength.

I stood slowly, letting her hand go with a silent promise still clinging to my fingers.

I walked to the door.

Didn’t turn back.

Because tonight, the moon would rise over blood, teeth, claws and blade, over a battlefield carved into the heart of the land.

And I’d be waiting beneath it.

Not as a wizard conjuring spells.

Not as a wolf chasing shadows.

Not as a son born into war.

But as a shield.

A protector standing between death and the girl I love.