BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 240: THE PATH STILL HOLDS

Chapter 240: THE PATH STILL HOLDS

"Every path has its puddle."

FREY’S POV

I paced back and forth across the broken stone just beyond the threshold of the mountain’s core. The magic here was thick, dense, and coiled like a living thing pressed too long into stone. Every few steps, the wind would rise, carrying whispers that were not voices but felt like echoes of pain.

Tor stood by the edge of the ridge, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the twisting storm above the peak. He had not spoken in the last five minutes, which meant he was holding everything back. Sierra, ever composed, leaned against one of the ruined pillars, her braid catching flecks of ash from the air. She was quiet too, but her fingers tapped against her thigh in rhythm like she was counting the seconds since Rou had vanished into the water.

He should have returned by now, and I stopped, turned, and paced the other way. "Where the hell are they?"

"They’ll come," Ma said calmly. Too calmly. Which meant she was just as worried.

Tor exhaled through his nose, voice tight. "You saw what Rou did. That horde followed him into the sea. If he did not drown them, I do not want to think about it. But he is the Rou Alpha, and we need to trust in him."

"He will come," I responded. "We shall not lose anyone in this mission. "

Tor glanced at me. "I agree."

Silence stretched again, heavy as lead. A shadow passed overhead just like a cloud, but it felt like a warning. We were too close to the heart of this mountain, too near to the source of everything Ash Marcel had twisted. This place was not meant for breathing creatures.

Ma froze and lifted and then we heard the footsteps behind us. I spun around and there he was. Rou, Worn, bruised but alive. Behind him, Dante followed with a smug look on his face. Rou looked at me and I saw it in his eyes that he had seen hell.

"What did you do? How did you get away?" Tor asked, stepping forward and embracing him.

Rou chuckled and responded, "I led them away to the sea, and then I realized that they had a nest built up below the mountain near the sea. I went back to the Mira house to hide, and it gave me its powers. I then went back to the see and burnt the fucking nest and the damn infected vampires "

My breath hitched. "It’s gone?"

"It screamed," Rou said, voice low and distant. "And then it burned. The sea turned black and then red. Then it was quiet."

Sierra’s fingers still. "You are so lucky to have survived."

Rou gave a grim half-smile. "I’m too stubborn to die."

Dante clapped him on the back. "And now we’re all here."

I looked toward the mouth of the core, where the darkness pulsed like a living breath, and then I felt it in my bones before I heard it. The mountain groaned a low, deep rumble that rolled up from the depths like a beast stirring in its sleep. Dust rained from the rocks above us. Cracks spidered across the old stone beneath our boots. I froze mid-step, every sense in my body flaring like wildfire.

Then came the screech, High-pitched, Inhuman, and violent. It ripped through the air like metal tearing through flesh, and it echoed from the eastern veins of the mountain the very path Rolan, Flora, Rita, and Qadira had taken.

Tor turned sharply toward the sound. "That wasn’t Ash Marcel."

"No," I growled, pulse pounding. "That was fucking something else."

Sierra stepped forward. "It must be them; they must have found Lord Marcel or something else. "

"It could be," Rou muttered, his jaw clenched. "Or worse."

Another tremor struck, this one sharp, jarring the mountain so hard I had to brace against the wall. Stones clattered. A fissure cracked open just a few feet away. "We should move," Dante said, already scanning the walls for a stable path. "If the structure gives, we’ll be buried."

"No," I said firmly. "We wait."

Tor looked at me, eyes narrowed. "Freyr—"

"We wait," I repeated. "That was not just a fight. That was a barrier-shattering. That was something waking up."

We stood still in the uneasy quiet that followed, just breathing. Just listening. The screech still rang faintly in the back of my skull, like it had embedded itself behind my eyes. Rou stepped beside me, and I stared into the dark, willing movement to appear where the tunnel curved and vanished behind the stone. The air felt charged, as if the mountain itself were waiting. Tor paced now, which meant his patience was wearing thin. Rou had gone quiet again, and Dante stood off to the side, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate motions, his version of praying.

Another moment passed. Then another, and I was about to say something when Sierra lifted her hand. "Enough," she said quietly.

We all turned to her. She was not looking at us. Her eyes were half-closed, her fingers spread slightly, like she was feeling the very air between us. And when she finally spoke again, her voice was low and sure.

"They’re alive."

Rou asked, "How do you know?"

She finally looked at me, and there was something ancient in her gaze. "Because I can feel Qadira’s magic. It has not faltered. It is burning, even now, controlled, precise. It is guiding them back to us."

Rou exhaled, and Dante straightened from where he had been leaning.

Tor gave her a long look. "They’re heading this way?"

Sierra nodded. "Yes."

I took a slow, steady breath, trying to rein in the war still raging in my chest. I stepped away from the wall and investigated the tunnel again, but this time, the silence was not so sharp. It was hours later of waiting when Tor turned toward the sound, just as they rounded the bend, Rolan in the lead, splattered with blood. Flora and Rita followed, flanking Qadira between them, who was limping slightly but held upright by something stronger than bone. Power pulsed off her in waves, faint but steady.

Relief hit me so hard I had to brace a hand on the wall, and Rolan saw us first and nodded sharply. "We’re here."

Tor stepped forward. "What happened?"

"It’s done," Flora said, her voice hoarse but unshaken. "Lord Marcel is dead."

I blinked. "What?"

Qadira’s eyes met mine, steady. "He kept Cassius alive," she said softly. "Twisted. Corrupted. Turned him into something that should never have drawn breath again."

Ma took a step forward. "Cassius—?"

"He called my name," Qadira said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I watched Freyr kill him. I saw him die. But Lord Marcel brought him back. Not fully alive. Just enough to haunt."

Rita’s jaw tightened. "We found them both. Marcel tried to trap us, but Rolan," she looked toward him with quiet respect, "shifted, half-beast, and attacked."

"I got him down," Rolan said, glancing at his hands like they still held that power. "Rita pinned him. And Qadira pushed us all out of the barrier."

Tor looked between them all. "And Cassius?"

Rolan met his eyes. "I killed him. For real this time. Burned his body in the same place we buried Marcel’s ashes."

A silence fell. The kind that follows old ghosts finally being laid to rest. Sierra stepped forward and placed a hand on Qadira’s shoulder. "You did what needed to be done."

"We all did," Flora added. "But there’s still Ash Marcel. Still the creature."

I nodded. "And now we finish it."

Rita looked at me, something fierce in her gaze. "We must finish this mission or the realm will never be safe again, the people, the mountains, even the guardians. We did not speak for a long while and chose to rest. The silence between us was not empty, it was earned. It was the sound of survivors standing shoulder to shoulder, blood on their armor, ash in their lungs, and victory stitched into the corners of their eyes. But we were not done yet. Not with Ash Marcel still breathing somewhere in the cursed heart of this mountain.

Still, the decision came with quiet agreement, no arguments, only a single nod passed between us, and it was Tor who said it first. "We wait. Until daylight."

I looked toward him, surprised, but not displeased. "You sure?"

"They need rest," he said, motioning to Rolan, to Rita, to Flora, whose shoulders were starting to slump now that the adrenaline had begun to fade. "So do Rou and Qadira. We pushed hard, but they have already bled for this mountain. Let the sun rise before we ask them to bleed again."

"I’m fine," Rou muttered, but even he did not sound convincing. His eyes were sunken, his movements stiff. The mark of a warrior running on fumes.

Sierra gently placed a hand on his arm. "And you will be. After resting."

Qadira had slumped against the cave wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed toward the distant shimmer of the mountain’s core. But she did not argue. None of them did. The fight had stripped them down to bone and magic, and even that had its limits. Tor and I took our first watch. Dante and Sierra began quietly setting up a defensive perimeter of glyphs and wards, just enough to keep the mountain’s rot from creeping in while we caught our breath.

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