BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 184: BLOODLINE OF THE MIRA VEIL.

Chapter 184: BLOODLINE OF THE MIRA VEIL.

{ "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely".}

TOR’S POV

The cliffs of Kayne rose like fangs in the dark, jagged and merciless, as if the land was warning us away. But we kept going. Me, Freyr, and Rou, walking toward something older and darker than any of us cared to admit. Paradise Coven loomed above, carved from ivory stone and silver veins, glowing faintly under the moon. It was Freyr’s ancestral home, but even he walked with caution as we approached the heart of it where the Kayne Secret Chambers waited beneath.

None of us spoke on the final stretch. Freyr walked at my side, quiet as a shadow, but I could feel the bond between us thrumming like a second heartbeat. Rou trailed behind, boots crunching gravel, tense as ever. We stopped in front of the chamber doors, massive slabs of obsidian inlaid with runes that pulsed faintly with red light. Blood wards. Ancient ones.

"This is it," Freyr said, voice low. "Once we enter, we won’t have long. The magic Mira will not give us much time.

Rou stepped forward and crossed his arms. "Guess this is where I turn around. I will stay hidden deep in the forest and come and find me once done.

I turned to face him. "No. This is where you hold the line."

He scoffed. "Babysitting the front porch?"

"You’re guarding the only exit," I said. "If something approaches-"

"I will deal with them," Rou finished, nodding. "Got it."

I stepped closer and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We trust you with this. You’re not just muscle, Rou. You’re the one we can leave behind."

He grinned, a sharp-toothed smirk. "Don’t get sentimental, Alpha. You’re still an arrogant bastard."

I turned back to Freyr. He was already pressing his palm to the carved sigil at the centre of the door. It responded to his blood, glowing brighter, until with a low growl like the earth itself was waking, the doors began to open.

Freyr glanced at me. "Together?"

"Always," I said and took his hand.

The air inside the chambers was thick, like breathing through silk soaked in blood. The further we went, the more the magic clung to our skin. It wasn’t just power—it was aware, ancient, and watching. Every step echoed like a whisper back in time.

Freyr’s hand was in mine. Cold, steady, anchoring. And yet. I could feel the tremor in him.

"You feel that?" I asked under my breath.

He nodded but said nothing. His eyes were locked ahead, sharp and shadowed. His breath hitched just once. Then the walls began to move, and then the stones themselves were shifting to make way. The corridor twisted into something new, smooth surfaces sliding with no sound, runes pulsing like veins.

Then the floor beneath us lit up as the doorway formed where only a wall existed. Not one was carved by hand but conjured. Memory-forged. And beyond it, a chamber that didn’t match the rest of the cold, dead crypt. It was warm. Lit by candles. Dust hung in the air like it had never dared settle. And in the centre of it all... she stood. An old woman. Pale as snow, with silver hair piled high and a cloak of midnight velvet draped over her shoulders. Eyes like Freyr’s are unblinking, calculating, and somehow kind all at once. She smiled, and Freyr didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a moment. Then he stepped forward, just a little ."Grandma," he whispered, voice rough as ash. And I—I just tightened my grip on his hand as I felt his body tremble with shock.

Her voice filled the chamber like it belonged to the stone itself, rich, resonant, and layered with centuries of knowing. She moved with grace that betrayed her age, her robes trailing behind her like smoke. And though every instinct in me screamed to stay on guard, I couldn’t help but feel... smaller in her presence. Like a child staring up at a storm.

"Freyr," she said again, her gaze never leaving his face. "You have grown into a fine young man."

I felt Freyr tense beside me, the slightest flicker of emotion crossing his features as she stepped closer, and the chambers responded. The walls seemed to sigh, the very runes shimmering as if breathing with her. "Only you," she continued, "could have the power to move the chambers and make them come alive."

My fingers twitched against Freyr’s. I didn’t let go. "I felt your presence the first time you came here," she said, her eyes sliding to me, sharp and knowing. "With your Lycan mate."

So, she knew. Not just who I was, but what we were. Bonded. Intertwined. Marked by more than blood.

"You didn’t sense the chambers then," she went on, "but you awakened the Mira magic. Stir it with your very being. It’s no longer dormant, Freyr. And it no longer answers to just one bloodline."

Freyr’s voice finally broke through, low and wary. "Mira magic... You always said it was sealed. Protected."

Her smile flickered. "Sealed, yes. But not safe. And not final."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then what are we standing in?"

She turned her full attention to me now, and I swear the temperature dropped. "You’re standing in the heart of a question, Alpha Tor. One that’s about to decide whether this realm lives... or burns." She turned back to Freyr. "My daughter, your mother, Sierra, holds the Mira magi. But what she holds," she said, stepping closer now, her voice soft and deadly, "is not the ultimate power."

Freyr took a step forward, voice steady but charged with something fierce beneath the calm. Purpose.

"We need the magic of the Mira to vanquish the creature in Blood Stone Mountain," he said. "I witnessed the veil’s strength the last time we escaped that place. It protected us. Shielded us from the corruption bleeding out of the mountain. That power—your power—it kept us safe."

He looked into her eyes, and for the first time since they entered, there was something raw in his voice. Not just determination. Desperation.

"I need Mira," he continued, "so I can enter the mountain unnoticed. If I go in alone, they’ll sense me. But cloaked in that magic, we’ll have time. Time to get close."

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, the weight of generations balanced behind her eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"The minute you step into Blood Stone Mountain," she said, her voice low and tight, "the one who harbors the creature will sense your presence. You carry the Kayne stone inside you, whether you wear it or not. And they—" her lips tightened, "they are drawn to it."

Freyr exhaled a slow breath of acceptance. "But with the cover of the Mira, we shall buy time. Enough to slip into the caves and take on the creature before it wakes fully."

Her eyes narrowed, just slightly, and I noticed it, even felt it in my gut, the shift. That flicker of hesitation she hadn’t shown until now. The sharp edge of fear she tried to swallow.

I stepped forward, not letting go of Freyr’s hand. "Why are you worried?" I asked.

She turned her gaze to me. Something flickered there, not fear for herself, but something worse.

"Because," she said slowly, "if the Mira veil falters for even a moment, the mountain will not just see him. It will call him. And if it reaches him before you reach the creature..."

Her voice trailed off, but I saw where it was going. Freyr’s jaw clenched. My heart slammed once against my ribs. "Then you train him to ensure that the Mountain does not sense the Mira magic."

"Then you train him," I said, sharper than I intended. "Train him so the mountain doesn’t sense the Mira magic. Hide it. Fold it so deep into his soul that not even the stone calls out."

The chamber went still.

I looked her in the eye, refusing to waver. "The Moon Goddess didn’t pair us by accident. She said Freyr was my mate because together, we have the heart and power to protect this realm. Together, not apart." Freyr turned slightly, his eyes searching mine, but I didn’t stop. "If one of us is captured—" My voice caught. "If one of us falls, then darkness will take everything. That’s what she said. That’s what’s waiting in the mountains."

Freyr didn’t speak immediately. Her lips pressed into a thie, unreadable. But her gaze dropped to our joined hands. Then, back up. "You believe it’s that simple?" she asked. "To weave a magic so old into him... and hide it from the very stones of Blood Stone Mountain?"

"No," I said. "I believe it’s necessary."

Freyr’s voice was quiet but unshaken. "We don’t need it easy. We need power. We need time. We need every damn edge we can get."

Her eyes stayed on him now, measured, sharp. Then, after a long pause, she turned and walked toward a dark alcove in the chamber wall. "I will teach you what I know," she said over her shoulder. "But understand this, Freyr Kayne, if you take this into yourself, there is no turning back. The Mira does not lend itself to half-measures. It will change you."

He didn’t hesitate. "I’m already changed."

I tightened my grip on his hand again. "We both are."

She stopped at the edge of the alcove and extended a hand, and before our eyes, the stones reshaped themselves again, revealing a staircase spiraling down into darkness.

"To master the Mira," she said, her voice echoing, "you must enter the Chamber of Echoes. Alone."

I turned to Freyr, the weight of a thousand unsaid things pressing behind my ribs. "Are you ready for this?"

He just kissed me briefly and fiercely and then stepped forward, into the dark. And I was left standing there in the flickering light, praying to every ancient thing that the darkness wouldn’t take him from me.

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