BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 170: INTERIM COVEN LORD

Chapter 170: INTERIM COVEN LORD

{ "It’s not dying that you need to be afraid of; it’s never having lived in the first place."}

I turned from the stunned council and walked back to the high chair. His chair. Each step echoed louder than the last, a steady beat in the drumroll of this unravelling farce. My rage no longer flared; it simmered. Controlled. Focused. I sat down again, slow and deliberate, letting the chair creak beneath me as I leaned back like a monarch on judgment day.

The chamber felt colder now and then I heard it— The boots. The metal. The shift in the air. The guards were coming. No... surrounding. I didn’t need to see them to know. I could feel it, the subtle ripple of power moving outside the council hall, like a net being drawn tight around a wild animal they thought they could contain.

Then the doors opened, and Rows of royal guards poured in, eyes sharp, movements synchronized like blades unsheathing all at once. They didn’t speak. Didn’t raise their weapons. But they formed a circle around the chamber, their presence loud enough without a single word.

I stayed where I was, Unmoved and Unbothered.

And then I saw spotted Byron and Desmond still seated among the others, but now with smugness painted thick across their faces. Byron folded his arms, his smirk just shy of a sneer. Desmond tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was watching a hound realize its leash was still wrapped around its throat. Smug little cowards. They thought this meant they’d won. That the guards being here meant I’d be dragged out, chained, and silenced.

I met their eyes, and I smiled. Not a warm smile. Not a smile of fear.

"You think I came unprepared?" I said softly, more to myself than anyone else. My fingers tapped against the edge of the armrest, slow and deliberate. "Let’s see who has the power in this room. "And the hall held its breath again and because whatever came next—blood, fire, truth, there was no stopping it now.

Ten minutes later, Idris walked in, and Tio followed close behind him. The doors groaned as they entered, their footsteps more hesitant than usual. They moved like men walking into a burning building, not sure whether they’d come to rescue someone or witness the final collapse. But they weren’t accompanied, and Lord Marcel was nowhere in sight. I didn’t move. Just tilted my head slightly, my fingers still tapping out that patient rhythm.

"How interesting," I said coolly, my voice cutting through the charged silence. "I see you brought your loyalty... but forgot your master."

Idris didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, his gaze unreadable, but tension in his shoulders hadn’t been there the last time I saw him. Tio looked down briefly, then back at me, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. They walked to their seats in silence, the weight of their arrival not nearly enough to shift the room’s balance.

And I leaned back further, arms draped across the chair like a king surveying a battlefield. "Still no Lord Marcel," I murmured, louder now, for all to hear. "Funny. You’d think if you were being accused of harbouring the world’s rot, you might show up to defend yourself."

My eyes locked on Byron, then Desmond.

"And yet... silence."

"Freyr Kayne, what do you mean by this?" Idris’s voice finally broke the silence. Smooth, but fraying at the edges.

I turned my gaze to him, my smirk sharp enough to cut through the tension in the air. "Oh, Idris," I said, tapping my fingers once more against the chair’s arm. "You want to do this? Now?" He didn’t flinch, but his eyes searched mine, waiting for a bluff. I didn’t give him one. "You want to know what I mean?" I leaned forward now, elbows on the grand armrest, voice low and tight with barely caged rage. "Then listen carefully."

I stood again, slower this time, letting the movement fill the room. My voice grew louder, clearer, and more meaningful.

"I went to Blood Stone Mountain last night." I lied, and then gasps rippled through the council like wind through dry leaves. I didn’t let them interrupt.

"I went there alone, unannounced, with no banners, no titles because I needed to see it. Feel it. And what I found?" I laughed once, humourless and bitter. "What I found wasn’t some old crumbling fortress or a forgotten tomb. No." I took a step forward. "I found a nest of nightmares. The air was thick with rot. "I thought that was the worst of it. I thought maybe this was just a hidden prison, a secret shame."

I shook my head, slow and full of weight. "But then I heard it. Felt it." I lowered my voice to a near whisper. "A creature... something ancient. Feeding on power. Breathing in death like it was wine. And it spoke. It spoke of a master. Not Lord Marcel, someone above him."

I let that sink in as my eyes darted across the room and noticed that even the royal guards seemed afraid of my discovery. "Do you understand now why I’m sitting in his chair? Why am I not asking for an apology or a debate?" I looked at the council, my voice hardening again. "There are monsters under our feet—real ones. And someone let them fester there. Harboured them. Protected them."

I turned back to Idris. "And unless someone here has a better explanation for what’s happening under Blood Stone Mountain, the only person who can answer for this is the one who built that dungeon."

I raised my voice.

"Were. Is. Lord. Marcel?"

The silence lingered like smoke, thick, bitter, and suffocating. Then Tio stood.

"Lord Marcel is currently in seclusion," he said, his voice carefully composed like he’d rehearsed this a dozen times in front of a mirror. "He’s deep in meditation, communing with the ancestral plane for guidance. He won’t be available for questioning today."

He said it was supposed to be enough. Like the word seclusion would wrap this all up in silk and excuses. I stared at him, and then I chuckled, not a soft laugh nor polite. It was low, sharp, cutting through the chamber like a blade drawn slow and deliberate across the neck of decorum.

"Seclusion?" I repeated, voice curling with venom. "Meditation?"

I leaned forward in the chair, eyes narrowing on Tio like a hunter fixing his gaze on prey that didn’t realize the trap had already been sprung. "You mean to tell me, after the shitstorm I just uncovered in that cursed mountain, after the monsters chewing through magic and flesh beneath our feet, after all this—" I gestured broadly to the circle of stunned and shifting council members, to the ring of guards still frozen in place, "—your grand excuse is that he’s busy lighting incense and humming in a cave somewhere?"

Tio opened his mouth to speak again, but I didn’t let him. "Fine," I said, standing slowly, voice growing colder, heavier with promise. "Then I’ll go find him." I stepped away from the chair, my boots echoing with intent. "I will raze Blood Stone Mountain, stone by stone, bone by bone, and drag him out of whatever pit he’s hiding in, whether it’s behind a veil of spirits or buried beneath corpses." Gasps. Sharp inhales. Someone cursed under their breath, and my eyes swept the room. "If he won’t come to answer for what he’s done, then I’ll make the mountain scream until he has no choice."

I pointed a finger toward the council, toward them. "And if any of you try to stop me, if you raise a hand so much as whisper an order to defend that traitor, then you can be buried alongside him." Tio had gone pale. Idris was silent again. Byron looked like he was chewing gravel, and Desmon lowered his eyes in fear. And me? I smiled again. Cold. Calm. Unshaken. Because they needed to understand this wasn’t a rebellion but a reckoning.

I stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle. The weight of everyone’s eyes on me felt almost comfortable, as if they were waiting for me to make my next move in a gam they didn’t quite understand yet. Lord Marcel’s absence hung in the air like a thick fog. And I could feel the unravelling of his fragile web of power, strands snapping one by one with every second he failed to appear.

"So," I said, letting the word hang like a guillotine above the room. "Since Lord Marcel is not here to explain himself or to answer for his actions, I see no reason to let this farce continue." I took a step forward, my voice carrying now, solid and firm, every word an executioner’s sentence. "I’m appointing an interim leader. Someone who can take charge of this council and put an end to the madness while the so-called ’leader’ remains in hiding."

There was a beat of stunned silence, and then Dante spoke up "I stand with Freyr," he said, voice unwavering. "Lord Marcel’s absence is an insult to this coven, and it’s about time someone took charge."

I turned to face him, giving him a small nod, and Dante’s words were like a spark to dry tinder. Sierra, my mother, stood next. Her face, always calm, always calculating, shifted slightly, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "I, too, support Freyr," she said, her tone cool, but her loyalty unmistakable. "Lord Marcel’s failure to present himself today speaks volumes. If he cannot lead us, then we must find someone who can."

Aurora followed, her voice as fierce as ever. "I’ve been watching this council rot from the inside. It’s time we take action."

Nessa, her sharp eyes flicking between the members, was next. "The council has been held hostage by Lord Marcel’s secrets long enough."

I could feel the room shifting now. The weight of the room seemed to shift in my Favor as others spoke up, like ripples spreading across still water.

Then, of course, there was Aggrey. His smirk had disappeared, replaced with a gleam of approval. "I’ll follow whoever can bring change," he said, voice gravelly. "It’s about time someone cleaned up the mess Marcel made." And then, to my surprise, Armon, normally the quiet, calculating one, nodded in agreement.

"I, too, stand with Freyr," he said. "For too long, this council has been led by fear and secrets. It’s time for transparency and strength." The room was beginning to shift now, and the only ones who remained silent were the ones I had known would:

Idris. Tio. Desmond. Byron and they didn’t say a word, and I turned to face the gathered council once more, my gaze sharp.

"Then it’s decided." My voice rang out like a blade cutting through the air. "Since the majority has spoken, I appoint NESSA LEORA as the interim leader of the coven council. She will lead us until Lord Marcel dares to show himself and explain the darkness he has harboured under his reign."

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