BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 208: AURORA’S INTERIM REIGN

Chapter 208: AURORA’S INTERIM REIGN

{ "Loyalty is what makes us trust, trust is what makes us loyal." }

AURORA’S POV

The council chamber thrummed with ancient power, the kind that seeped into stone and never left. Moonlight poured through the stained-glass skylight, casting fractured glimmers across the obsidian table that stretched in a perfect circle at the heart of the room. My heart was steady, my spine straighter than ever, even as the air vibrated with tension. They were all watching me with some curiosity, others with veiled suspicion.

"I call this council to order," I said, voice clear and edged with steel. "As Interim Leader of the Paradise Bay Coven, I will not waste time with the ceremony. We have decisions, and I intend to make them with you, not for you."

To my right, Nessa stood close to my mate, my anchor. Her hand brushed mine under the table, the only warmth in a room filled with ice. She gave me a look that said, "You have got this," and I breathed her in like a shield.

Sierra Kayne lounged across from us, her silver eyes sharp beneath the fall of platinum curls. "We are happy to work with you. "

"Thank you, Sierra." She nodded.

Amon, dressed in midnight robes with star-etched runes that flickered as he moved, nodded once. "We trust the judgment of Freyr to appoint you as the interim leader. "

All eyes flicked to the trio seated opposite the guards: Desmond Marcel, stoic and unreadable; Byron, ever the strategist, fingers steepled; and Iris, serene and deadly, a predator in the skin of a poet. Next to them, Harold Tio watched in near-silence, his eyes hawk-like, tracking every flicker of power in the room.

I stood, letting the weight of a hundred royal guards flanking the walls echo in my voice.

"Lord Marcel is still being searched to give answers about the treachery and the evil creature in the mountain. Desmond, Byron, Idris, and Tio—Paradise Coven is your home, and I expect you to serve this council and the coven under oath. Prove your loyalty, and your legacy is restored."

A low murmur swept the room. Desmond rose slowly, his voice velvet-wrapped steel. "And if we don’t swear fealty to you, Interim Leader?"

I stepped closer, shadows dancing at my heels. "Then the Coven council will show you no mercy, stripped of your name and shielded by none."

He studied me in silence. Then: "We will be loyal to Paradise Coven and its interim leader."

Aggrey, the ancient seer hunched at the far end, cackled softly. "Good. Blood spilled on oath is better than blood spilled in war." He looked at me then, with a gaze that felt like being peeled open.

The room shifted slightly, but enough. They were listening now. Not just tolerating.

"Then let’s begin," I said. "We are building a new future tonight. One that will not collapse at the weight of its own secrets." Nessa reached for my hand, and this time, I took it openly. I walked over to the centre table as Amon placed the map of Paradise Coven, and we all stared at it.

"The border patrols are failing," I said, circling the table slowly, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat of war. "Someone has been taking out our people, and this means only one thing. A hiss threaded the room like smoke. No one needed me to explain who they were. "The infected," Nessa said, her voice low and grim. "The bug-army’s spreading faster than anyone predicted."

Sierra Kayne leaned forward; her fingers splayed over the edge of the table. "It seems that this was Lord Marcels’ plan all along."

"It seems so," Nessa added.

Aggrey’s bones cracked as he shifted in his seat. "They are driven. Controlled by something old. Older than our wards. Older than this coven."

I nodded. "Which is why we need to send more troops to the border and replace all the guards there, and send them back home."

Nessa’s gaze sharpened. "And if they’re nesting deeper than we thought?"

I met her eyes, not flinching. "Then we go deeper. Burn them from the root."

Tension shimmered across the table like a heatwave. One hundred royal guards stood silent behind me, their armor gleaming faintly with runes, blades slung high across their backs. Not one flinched.

Harold Tio, silent until now, finally spoke. "You are preparing for a war. Not a cleanse."

I turned to him. "Our people have suffered and turned into puppets. This is a war."

A beat of silence.

Then Nessa said, voice soft but sure, "She is right. We either lead with fire or fall under a swarm."

Amon rose, robes swirling like storm clouds. "Strategic purge of infected zones. Total lockdown of border paths."

"We begin at dawn," I said, and the silence stretched like a blade. Tense. Thin. Ready to cut.

The council chamber had gone still after my announcement, strategies were drawn, motions passed, and the first real steps toward a united front against the infected. But peace was never simple here. It was layered with history, blood, and names that could still curdle the air.

Desmond Marcel stood slowly, and the rustle of his long coat was soft, but it carried the weight of the Marcel name, of sins woven deep into the coven’s memory.

"Before we move forward," he began, voice calm but steady, "I need it on record that the Marcel family had no prior knowledge of the vampire bug infestation." Several heads turned. Eyes narrowed. The room shifted, the air thickening. I did not speak. I let him. "We were not hoarding secrets. We were not breeding monsters in the dark. Whatever these creatures are, they did not come from us. And if they were born of any arcane failure, it was not ours."

Desmond’s fingers curled slightly at his side-controlled tension, visible only to someone who knew how to read it. His eyes swept across the others again, and then he added, quieter, but no less firm:

"And one more thing needs to be said," Byron stated. He turned toward the seers’ quadrant, where Aggrey sat muttering into his sleeve, and then finally faced me directly. "Not everyone named Marcel is evil. "But as much as he was a Marcel, so am I. And I am not him. Neither are my uncle and brother. And if we are going to stand together to protect this Coven, then we start by seeing each other clearly, not through the shadows of names we did not choose."

The silence that followed was not sharp; this time it was thoughtful. Heavy, but not hostile. "Desmond," I said, letting his name settle between us. "You have been given a place at this council, not because of your name, but because of your actions. And you will keep it the same way." His jaw tightened, but he nodded. "None of us is free from legacy," I added. "We all walk with ghosts at our heels. But starting tonight, you will be judged by what you do, not what blood flows through you."

Just as the quiet began to settle, Nessa’s voice cut clean through it—sharp, precise, undeniable.

"What about Idris and Tio?" I turned my head toward her, and I caught the way her eyes locked on Desmond first, then flicked to Harold Tio, who remained unmoved, like a statue carved from the old mountain stone. He said nothing. Did not blink. "They knew everything Lord Marcel did," Nessa continued, stepping forward now, her presence like a sword drawn. "They were not just observers. They were accomplices. They signed off on the silences. They protected the lies. They kept his secrets warm."

Tension snapped taut again. Even the guards along the walls seemed to lean in, just slightly.

"I would recommend," Nessa added, calm but firm, "that they be suspended from the Coven Council immediately pending a full investigation."

Desmond stiffened, but he did not speak this time. Byron’s lips parted, as if to protest, but one glance from Iris kept him quiet, and all eyes turned to me. I held Nessa’s gaze a second longer, hearing what she was not saying: that trust had limits, even here. Even now. And if we ignored the rot still clinging to the roots, then everything we were building could collapse again.

Then I turned to Tio and Idris and they both stared back and with unfazed looks.

"You were Lord Marcel’s advisor," I said. "And yet, your loyalty lies with the council now. Or does it?"

Tio spoke slowly, measured. "I did what I was ordered to do. What was necessary?"

"Don’t pretend your silence was noble." Nessa snapped.

The council stirred with unease. Aggrey coughed something that sounded suspiciously like a snake. I exhaled and stepped forward, claiming the space between them. Between all of us. Then I turned to the guards at the eastern alcove. "Tio and Harold will be removed from the coven council until the charges are investigated by a neutral panel.

As the guards approached, they did not flinch. Just walked with them in silence, cloak trailing behind like a shadow unanchored. When the doors shut behind him, I looked at Nessa. She did not smile. She did not gloat. She just nodded, like a soldier acknowledging the next clean breath before battle.

"Now that we have that out of the way, do we have any news from Freyr and Dante?"

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