BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 207: POWER WITHIN US

Chapter 207: POWER WITHIN US

{"All power is within you; you can do anything and everything."}

Frey and Tor stood up, and we rushed over to them, and they turned at once, Tor’s face lighting up with that reckless grin I had come to count on, and Freyr thanked the gods for standing, blood-smeared but looking better than I left him. I nearly collided into them, grabbing Tor’s shoulder, then Freyr’s, grounding myself in their presence. "You’re alive," I breathed. "You’re both damn it, I thought I’d lost you."

Tor gave a low chuckle, clapping me on the back. "You’re not rid of us yet, Dante."

"We held the pass," Freyr added quietly, his voice low, still tinged with fury. "But he is close. I can feel him. The mountain’s screaming."

I looked past them, deeper into the yawning cavern. Rolan and Rou were already there, swords drawn, watching the far wall. The one carved in ancient words, pulsing faintly like veins beneath stone. The one hiding the nightmare we were all running from.

My mouth went dry as I stepped forward, the air thickening with every inch. "He’s behind there."

Rou nodded once, sharp. "Lord Marcel. He is hunting."

"Stalking," Rolan added, his voice like frost. "Waiting."

Tor stepped to my right, Freyr to my left, the others closing in behind us like a wall of iron and fire. Our breath steamed in the cold cave air. A silence fell over us, heavy, electric. Then the stone wall let out a slow, grinding moan as if it were waking up. I felt it in my bones. The ancient, seething hunger.

"He knows we’re here," I murmured. And just like that, the mountain held its breath.

Freyr Kayne stepped forward first, shoulders broad and steady, every movement of a quiet defiance against the darkness pressing in around us. The cave lit with the low hum of power. I could feel it, crawling under my skin like a thousand whispers. Then Alpha Tor moved beside Frery, closer than breath his presence making Freyr hiss and then his eyes ignited. Not with fire. Not with rage. But with Mira. It started as a glow. Soft. Like starlight spilling from his fingertips. Then it rose, spinning and spiralling, forming a shield around us, a cocoon of pure, pulsing energy that shimmered violet and gold in the shadows of the cave.

The Mira had never looked like this before. "Do you feel that?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

Tor nodded, jaw tight, eyes locked on the magic rising around us. "It’s stronger."

"It’s older," I murmured, eyes narrowing as a scent hit the air faint, but unmistakable.

My throat caught. "Freyr..."

He looked back at me, and I saw then not just the power of the Mira, but something ancient threaded through it. Something I had not sensed in years. "It smells like... Dunco," I said, voice low, reverent. "Your father. The old Lord of the Coven."

Freyr’s gaze did not flinch, but his jaw clenched. "The blood remembers," he said simply.

And the Mira pulsed harder at that beating like a heart. Wild and sentient. It wrapped around us, breathing with us. Protecting us and because just beyond that veil of power, the mountain whispered again. And this time, it said his name. "Kayne"

The wall disappeared with a sound like a dying breath.

One second it loomed before us, etched in runes and darkness, and the next it was gone. Just... gone. No stone. No barrier. No protection.

And there he stood. Lord Marcel with an old vampire, the monster whispered about in the dead corners of old tomes and worse memories. His figure was regal in the most terrifying ways drenched in blood, eyes glowing like dying stars, mouth stained from some recent kill. He stepped forward through the dim, the shadows bending around him as if they feared to touch him too long. Then another form slipped into place at his side, a creature draped in black, hunched, and wrong in the way it moved, like its bones were not meant for the shape it wore. Its hiss cut through the cave like a blade of ice, and I realized it was the cloaked creature that came out of Bloodstone Mountain’s core.

It turned to Marcel, bowing low. "Master," it rasped, the word slithering from its throat.

Then, that long, bony hand pointed straight at Freyr.

"The Kayne stone... it is in him."

The breath I took lodged halfway in my chest. The cave itself seemed to shudder at the words.

But Freyr, the gods, did not even blink. He laughed. Laughed. "Of course it’s in me," he said, voice sharp with defiance, mouth twisting into that fierce grin that always preceded chaos. "What did you expect? My father died to keep it hidden and you have been rotting in this mountain playing God while the Paradise Coven needed you."

He took a step forward, and the Mira sparked again, pulsing hard, alive. "You were supposed to protect them. Instead, you have been down here, festering, harnessing evil."

The creature beside Marcel hissed louder, recoiling slightly but Marcel?

He smirked. That cruel, bone-deep expression carved into his face like it had been waiting years to stretch its lips again. "Thank you for coming to Bloodstone Mountain, you have made our work easier," he said, his voice smooth and thick with venom. "We came for you, Freyr Kayne. And for you, Alpha Tor."

Tor stepped forward beside Freyr, silent, but the weight of his presence was thunderous. I could feel the fury building in him like a storm barely held in check. I locked eyes with Marcel and said, low and certain, "Then you have come to the wrong mountain. Because neither of them is yours to take."

The creature beside Marcel shifted, and suddenly... it spoke. Not the hiss from before, this was different. Its voice dropped, impossibly deep, ancient, like stone grinding against stone in the bowels of the earth. The sound of it echoed through my bones. Its hood turned toward me. "You," it rumbled. "You entered the core. I can smell it. You carry the blood of the mountain now... the blood of the Bloodstone itself."

I froze, my mouth dry. My skin prickled with cold fire, because somehow... it knew. Knew about what I touched in the heart of the mountain. Knew about what I never told a soul. The air around Marcel thickened, as if even he had not expected that revelation. The creature’s grin split beneath the hood, jagged, gleaming teeth shining out of the void.

"You are no longer just a man. You are a vessel," it hissed, voice like boiling tar. "You must be captured."

My hand clenched the hilt of my blade, but I did not move. Could not. The weight of its stare held me still.

Then it turned, slow and deliberate, toward the others.

"And the Rogourau..." it purred, voice sick with hunger. "Two beasts of blood and moon. They will make a fine meal."

Rou snarled low beside me, claws already unsheathing. His eyes burned with the wild fury of his kind. Rolan stepped forward too, silent, but the flex of his muscles was answered enough.

"You can try," Rou growled, voice like a growl of thunder rolling off the cavern walls. "But we’ll see whose bones you choke on first."

Freyr was at my side now, his Mira magic blazing in defiance. Tor moved like a shadow behind him, expression unreadable, but his aura electric with rage.

I swallowed hard, stepping forward even though every instinct in me screamed back. "I don’t care what blood’s in me," I said, voice steady, clear. "You are not taking me. And you are not touching them."

Marcel’s smirk deepened into something colder. "Then you’ve all chosen death," he said softly. And behind him, the mountain began to move.

The mountain groaned a terrible, living sound that echoed down every tunnel like the breath of some ancient god waking from centuries of sleep.

Stone cracked above us. Dust rained from the ceiling. I could feel the tremor in my bones.

"It’s waking up," I breathed. "The mountain’s alive—"

Before I could finish, Freyr’s voice rose over the thunder, sharp and commanding. "Now! "He reached for Tor, and Tor did not hesitate, not even a blink of doubt between them. Their hands clasped, and in that moment, their magic ignited.

I have seen Mira’s magic before. I have seen it burn and heal, bind, and break. But this? This was different. It was not just light it was time folding. It was space cracking open like a glass wall shattering around us. The very air bent, pulsed, and folded inward as the power surged from them like a tidal wave. My breath caught as it touched me and then everything disappeared.

The mountain.

The stone.

The hunger.

Marcel.

The creature’s hissing voice.

In the next heartbeat, we stood somewhere else. The air was quiet. Pine needles crunched underfoot, and the scent of earth and old magic filled my lungs. I blinked, adjusting. Sunlight filtered through tall trees, dappling the moss-covered ground.

We were in the forest. Beneath the mountain. At the edge of the clearing stood the Mira House its aged wood wrapped in vines, windows cracked with time, but still standing. Still safe.

I stumbled a step forward, heart pounding. "We’re out..."

Freyr let go of Tor’s hand slowly, visibly drained, sweat beading on his brow. "We didn’t have a choice," he muttered. "The creature we are facing is far worse than we imagined, and the power that we all hold can never get into its hands.

Tor gave a bitter smile. "Yeah. And if I had waited another second, we would all be bones under Bloodstone rock."

We had escaped. For now. But that mountain was not finished with us and neither was Lord Marcel, the old vampire, and the black cloaked creature.

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