BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 239: ASHES OF THE BROKEN BLOOD

Chapter 239: ASHES OF THE BROKEN BLOOD

{"Good wins in the end because evil is a self-destructive, cannibalistic force that inevitably engorges upon itself."}

Cassius chuckled, and the chamber shook. "You can try."

And then he moved, and so did we. He moved like a shadow, blurring, streaking, splitting. One moment, Cassius was in front of us, and the next, he was behind, his claws grazing Rolan’s shoulder with a hiss of blood. "Hold the formation!" Rita barked, her voice a sharp steel in the chaos. I did not need to be told twice. My body moved on instinct, ducking, striking, spinning as my claws met his claws. Sparks flew. The force behind each blow was like slamming steel into a storm.

Cassius fought like he remembered every war he had ever won, and every death he had ever given. And his strength pulsed with that twisted root of magic that reeked of the Blood Stone.

"Left!" Rolan shouted, shifting fully into his Rogourau form. Massive claws swiped across Cassius’s torso, ripping through robes and leaving black blood trailing. But Cassius did not flinch. He twisted around and sank his fangs into Rolan’s furred arm, and Rolan howled.

"Get off him!" Qadira screamed, and she let loose a blast of vampire magic that turned into fire, slamming into Cassius’s side. He staggered, but not much. He hissed, turned, and charged her, and I moved without thinking. My shoulder slammed into Qadira, knocking her out of the way just as Cassius’s claws tore through the air where her heart had been.

"A shifter beast. "I drove my clawed hand into his right side, and he snarled. Then Rita was there, my mate, blazing in golden light, her roar shaking the walls. She struck Cassius with both of her claws, slicing across his chest. Rolan lunged in, grabbing him from behind, fangs snapping at the monster’s throat.

Cassius exploded, and dark magic blasted from him like a shockwave, sending us all flying. I hit the chamber wall hard. My breath flew from my lungs in a gasp, but I forced myself up. Across the room, Rita was already standing again, blood on her cheek, fire in her eyes.

Qadira’s hands trembled as she drew power again. "He is drawing from the mountain. From the Blood Stone itself—"

"Then we serve it," I said.

Cassius stalked toward us, slowly now. Bleeding. Damaged. But grinning. "You came to slay a god," he whispered. "And brought only wounds."

"We brought each other," Rita snapped, stepping forward.

Qadira let out a cry and thrust both palms forward. Energy pure Kayne magic blasted Cassius off his feet. Rita was already moving, leaping forward to drive her claws through his chest and straight for his throat, and he caught her midair by the throat.

"No!" I screamed and lunged, a roar louder than anything before thundered behind me. Rolan shifted into something older, deeper. His eyes glowed with molten red as he grabbed Cassius from behind and ripped him back.

"NOW!" he howled.

Qadira and I moved together. Her vampire magic and my claws, adding Rita, gasping but not down, drove her claws into Cassius’s chest this time deeper.

Something cracked, and Cassius screamed, and the chamber around us shuddered.

The Blood Stone pulsed above us like a dying star, and Cassius Marcel fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him, black, thick, steaming. His body began to crack at the seams, light pouring from the wounds.

"You... cannot... kill me..."

Rita stood over him. "We just did." With one final roar, his body shattered into ash and fire and then silence.

The fire that rose from Marcel’s body shimmered like moonlight caught in still water—silent, almost reverent. It did not crackle. It whispered. Like the mountain knew. Like it had waited years for this moment. We stood on the slope just outside the chamber, where the earth cracked and bled smoke beneath our boots. Behind us, the broken barrier still flickered with fading magic. Ahead of us, ash drifted in the still air, black specks floating over the shimmer of the firelight.

Rita’s hand found mine. Her grip was strong, but trembling. "I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone’s silence more," she murmured, eyes fixed on the flames.

"He deserved worse," Rolan said hoarsely. His arms were crossed; his eyes were hollow. Blood matted his shirt, and one claw still had not retracted fully. "But this... this ends him."

"No," Qadira said quietly. "Cassius was the end. Marcel was the beginning."

She stepped forward and opened her hand, and a small, silver coin dropped from her palm into the fire, an offering, a memory, I was not sure. The flames turned violet for a heartbeat, then settled again, and I looked down at the ashes of Cassius, already darkening the stone. They were not monstrous. Not anymore. Just a layer of soot. A shadow of what he had once been, a brother, a betrayer, a remnant of blood and vengeance.

"We bury none of them," I whispered. "Let the wind take them. Let the mountain drink it back."

Rita nodded beside me. "Let it end here."

Rolan crouched by the fire and began drawing lines in the dust with his claw, a Rogourau ward, an old one that offers protection and closure.

Qadira came to stand beside me. She did not speak, but her eyes glistened. The last of her family destroyed, one way or another and I slipped my free hand into hers. We stood in silence as the flames consumed the last of the monster’s remains, and the wind picked up carrying the ash out into the mountain’s breath.

"Good riddance," Rita murmured.

And for the first time since we entered that cursed chamber, I felt like we could breathe again. The chamber doors groaned as they closed behind us. I did not realize I was holding my breath until we stepped back into the stone corridors of the royal level. The air felt cooler out here, less burdened with magic and grief. But it did not last. We were not alone, a dozen guards were waiting in the hall, armed, armoured, and tense.

They did not speak. Their eyes locked on us as we stepped into their line of sight, and swords began to slide free from sheaths. Halberds lowered. A faint snarl echoed from someone in the back.

Rita stepped protectively in front of me. Rolan shifted, just enough for the light to catch the red glint in his eyes. He was still bleeding, still tired—but ready.

"Stand down," I said calmly. "This doesn’t need to become a massacre."

One of the guards, an older man with silver on his shoulders, barked, "By order of Lord Marcel, none shall leave the inner sanctum without clearance"

"He’s dead," Qadira said softly.

"What?" the man asked, voice cracking.

Qadira stepped forward, her cloak brushing against the ash still clinging to her boots. She raised her chin, her voice unwavering. "Lord Marcel is dead. Struck down within the chamber of the Blood Stone. His brother, Cassius, too. The mountain no longer answers to him."

A ripple moved through the guards like a chilly wind. Some exchanged glances. One man took a step back.

"Prove it," another barked, though his voice lacked conviction.

Rolan snarled, "We’ll gladly show you the chamber, though all you’ll find are ashes and a cracked stone."

"No illusions," Qadira added. "No lies. The reign is over."

The silver-shouldered man lowered his blade slowly. His lips parted like he wanted to argue... but could not. He must have felt it too: the shift in the mountain. The silence between us stretched, and then he bowed. A deep, deliberate bow at the waist. He straightened and said, "Then the mountain awaits its next voice." The other guards followed his lead, dropping to a knee or bowing their heads. I exhaled slowly, watching them not enemies now, but remnants of a regime that was dying with its false king.

Qadira then spoke up "Aurora Jade is the new Coven leader. Go back to Paradise Bay city and pledge allegiance to her. "

They nodded, bowed, and left. The corridors behind us fell into silence. No more guards. No more resistance. Just the long echo of our boots on stone as we moved up through the winding arteries of Blood Stone Mountain. The torches on the walls flickered, casting strange shadows long, trembling things that clung to our backs like the ghosts we carried.

Rita walked at my side, shoulder brushing mine, her jaw tight with purpose. Qadira led us. She had not spoken since the guards bowed, but her eyes glowed faintly now. Something inside her was waking up, power passed down in blood and memory. Rolan kept pace behind her, one hand resting on the hilt of a blade still stained with Lord Marcel’s blood.

We passed the mountain’s threshold, into the tunnels that led to the upper ruins where the old temple stones were cracked open, long ago, by dark magic and sacrifice. The higher we climbed, the colder the air got. A bitter, biting wind leaked through the cracks in the mountain like it was bleeding shadows.

And then, we heard it. A hum in the air. Like a pulse. A frequency just beyond sound. It made the hairs on my neck rise and the magic in my blood curl like it recognized an old enemy.

"They’re close," Rita muttered.

Qadira nodded. "He’s near."

"Finally, "Rolan responded.