BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 165: VAMPIRE MIRA

Chapter 165: VAMPIRE MIRA

{"The magic of reality is neither supernatural nor a trick, but – quite simply – wonderful." }

Sleep finally claimed me like a gentle tide pulling at my bones. The weight of the night, its silence, its sorrow had pressed on my chest for hours until I could no longer hold my eyes open. Then I was pulled into a trance, and I saw my late husband and the Lord of the Coven Dunco.

I saw him as clearly as the day he left us, no, clearer, somehow. My breath caught in my dream-self as I watched him walk down the hallway of the Kayne home, his footsteps silent but certain. The old floorboards didn’t groan like they used to. It was as if the house knew it couldn’t stop him. He moved with purpose, past the rooms filled with ghosts and memories, toward the hearth where we once danced in the firelight. But he didn’t linger. Instead, he reached behind the tall cabinet, pressed his hand to the concealed panel only he and I knew, and slipped into the secret path that led beyond the estate.

I followed, unseen, and through the narrow corridor hidden between stone and root, we emerged onto a shoreline I hadn’t walked in years. The beach lay in the shadow of Blood Stone Mountain, its jagged face glowing faintly under the starlight like an ancient, waiting god. He stood there, arms crossed, staring into the dark waves. The wind tangled in his hair.

"Rolan," he whispered, his voice carried to me through the dream like smoke. Then, a figure stepped from the shadows. Familiar. War-worn. Rolan. They embraced without hesitation, like brothers born of the same scar. I couldn’t hear the words at first, but they laughed softly, nostalgic. Something old and beautiful passed between them.

After a while, a deep, primal roar made the sand beneath their feet shiver. They turned as one. I did, too, and from the dunes emerged a massive grey wolf, its fur streaked with silver and ash, one eye clouded, a jagged scar slashing across its face like a cruel brand. Beside it was the horror of the world: a figure cloaked in pure black, so dark it seemed to swallow the stars. No face. No eyes. Just the outline of dread, the slow drift of fabric that didn’t touch the ground. They moved without warning. The wolf lunged, and the cloaked creature followed, and in that breathless moment, as Dunco and Rolan braced for impact, everything went black.

"Dunco!" I gasped, my voice dragging me out of the vision like a hook through flesh. My heart thundered in my chest, and I wasn’t sure if I had screamed his name aloud or only in the echo of my dream. But I knew one thing for certain that wasn’t just a dream, and he was trying to tell me something. I couldn’t move, and my body felt pinned to the earth, like the ground itself had claimed me, holding me hostage in the vision. My fingers dug into the cold sand. I tried to breathe, but every breath tasted like ash and salt. Dunco lay just feet away, his body twisted in the pale moonlight, still. Too still. His eyes stared at nothing, glassy and wide with whatever he’d seen last.

"No..." The word scraped out of my throat, useless and weightless.

Blood seeped into the sand beneath him, staining it dark, almost black. A cruel wind stirred his hair, but he didn’t move. My Dunco, once Lord of the Coven, breaker of warlocks, and keeper of the sacred flame, was gone. I blinked through the blur of tears only to see Rolan, he was still alive but barely. The great grey wolf had him by the arm, dragging his battered body across the shoreline. He kicked and tried to fight, but he was weak. Bones are broken, and the soul is unravelling. I could feel his pain ripple through the vision.

Then the creature spoke, and the very air around me twisted in fear.

"The Kayne Stone is not on the corpse." The faceless creature stepped forward, its cloak rippling with a wrongness that made my skin crawl. There was no mouth, no eyes, yet the words slithered through the air like smoke through cracks. "He was clever, this one. But cleverness ends at death." The wolf growled, dropping Rolan unceremoniously. He groaned, trying to crawl, blood streaking behind him.

"No matter," the creature continued, its shadow stretching, curling toward the dying man like a serpent ready to strike. "The Rogourau man will do it." My breath hitched. "His blood will sustain the Master... until we claim the Stone. Until the Awakening."

Rolan looked up defiant, even on the edge of death. He spat at the creature’s feet. "Rot in the dark; you will never succeed in what you are doing," he hissed. But the creature only tilted its head, amused, and the wolf lunged again. There was a scream, his. Then silence.

"No!" I cried, but my voice didn’t matter here. I was just a witness, a prisoner of the vision. I clawed at the sand, desperate to reach them, to change something, anything, but all I could do was watch.

Watch as the tide rolled in.

Watch as the blood soaked deeper.

WI watched as the truth settled heavy in my chest.

Just as the darkness began to close in, swallowing Rolan, Dunco, the wolf, and the faceless thing, another voice rose through the noise. It wasn’t like the creature’s voice. This one was warm, sharp as moonlight on glass, and laced with memory.

"Child..."

My heart clenched. That voice. That voice. "Grandmother?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Sierra, listen closely. The veil is thin now. I don’t have long."

Light shimmered faintly around me, and suddenly, I wasn’t on the beach anymore. The cold and blood were gone. I stood in a place of shadows and stars, familiar and strange all at once. And there she was. Miranda. My grandmother. Matriarch of the old magic. Long passed... yet glowing with the strength of something eternal. She reached for me not to touch but to anchor me.

"The creature you saw is real," she said. "It stirs in the depths of Blood Stone Mountain. Its name has been forgotten by time, buried by blood and fear, but its purpose has not."

I stared at her, trying to understand, trying not to fall apart. "What does it want?"

Her eyes, those fierce, storm-grey eyes that never missed anything, narrowed. "To awaken fully, it needs four things: the Kayne Stone... the blood of a Rogourau beast... the Alpha power of the Bay Lycans... and the essence of the Vampire Mira."

I swallowed hard. "But... that’s—"

"That’s why it killed Dunco. Why did it take Rolan? Why does it hunt still?" she said, cutting through my panic. "With those powers combined, it will use the keyline between Hanka Island and Ragar Mountain to shatter the realm’s balance and rise as ruler over all."

"Then who can stop it?" I asked, desperate. "What do we do?"

She stepped back, her form starting to fade like dust in the wind. But her voice, gods, her voice stayed firm. "Frery Kayne and Tor Gale." The names rang in my chest like old bells. "Together, they are the fire and storm, the blood and bond that can resist the coming dark. You must find them, Sierra. You must guide them." And with that, she vanished.

"Wait! Grandmother—!"

But the star shattered, and the beach returned. Dunco’s lifeless bodythehe wolf. The cloaked horror, Rolan’s blood in the sand. But now I know. I understood. And the vision’s last breath echoed with Miranda’s fading words:

"The realm’s fate is in the hands of your children. Don’t let the dark win."

Then, silence. I awoke with a scream lodged in my throat and fire in my chest.

"Sierra!" I heard a loud voice as Frery rushed to my side, eyes wild, one hand gripping my shoulder, the other cupping the side of my face.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he demanded.

I shook my head slowly, still catching my breath. "No—no, I’m not hurt. It was a vision..."

His expression shifted, just slightly, but the tension never left his jaw.

I rubbed my chest, the pain echoing faintly through my ribs. "It was your father."

Frery froze. His hands dropped. "What?"

"I saw him, Frery. Dunco... he’s dead. I saw it happen."

The words sounded too sharp in the quiet room, and for a heartbeat, all I could hear was the rhythm of our breathing.

He stepped back, eyes narrowing, not in disbelief, but in something worse. Fear. A child’s fear in a man’s frame.

"I saw the place Blood Stone Mountain Beach front. I saw your father leave the house through the hidden path. He met with Rolan there, they were waiting for someone. But then..." I swallowed. "The wolf. The faceless creature. They came out of the dark. They killed him. And they took Rolan."

He looked away, but I kept going. I had to.

"The creature was looking for the Kayne Stone. It wasn’t on Dunco, so they’re still after it. And that’s not all..." I clenched my hands in my lap, grounding myself. "I heard her. My grandmother, Miranda. She came to me in the vision."

Frery’s eyes snapped back to mine.

"She told me the creature needs four things to awaken: the Kayne Stone... the blood of a Rogourau beast... the Alpha power of the Bay Lycans... and the essence of the Vampire Mira. With all that, and the power drawn from Hanka Island and Ragar Mountain... it could rule the entire realm." "And she said it’s up to you... and Tor Gale," I finished quietly. "You’re the ones who can stop it."

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