BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 241: ROAR OF GALE

Chapter 241: ROAR OF GALE

{"An alpha wolf leads by example, not by force."}

I felt it before I saw it, and the subtle shift in the mountain air was cooler, thinner, touched with the faintest hint of light creeping through cracks no eye could see. I opened my eyes to the sound of soft breathing and the low crackle of the protective wards still holding around us. My blade rested by my side, undisturbed. Dante sat a few feet away, silent, alert. He caught my eye and gave a small nod. All clear.

Behind us, the others were stirring and Rita sat up first, stretching with a low groan, followed by Flora who leaned against her shoulder, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Rolan lay still for a moment longer, then rose like a beast waking from hibernation. Qadira, curled in a patch of warmth near Sierra, exhaled deeply as she stood graceful even in exhaustion.

Rou’s eyes were already open. He had not slept. Just dozed in that half-state of warriors too tired to rest and too trained not to.

Tor stepped forward. "It’s time."

Nobody said anything for a moment, and Qadira moved to stand beside me, her voice low. "It feels different. Like the mountain’s... waiting."

"It is," I said. "And so is Ash Marcel."

Flora responded. "Then let’s not keep him waiting."

Rita looked over her shoulder, eyes locked on the red-lit tunnel leading deeper into the mountain. "Whatever happens next, we end it. Here."

Rou cracked his neck and shifted slightly, just enough to ripple the beast under his skin. "Together."

Tor glanced around, eyes lingering on each of us. "But we must all go back alive."

"And no mercy," Sierra added, her voice like steel softened by sorrow. "Not for him."

The cave trembled once, low and deep, like a warning growl from the belly of the mountain.

I stepped forward first. "Then let’s finish what we started."

The path narrowed as we descended and the mountain walls pulsed with faint red veins, the heart of the mountain beating slow and steady like a war drum in slumber. Magic clung to the stone, ancient, thick, watching us. We stopped where the tunnel ended in a vast circular chamber. At the centre, the entrance to the core loomed like the throat of some great beast sealed shut with an arcane barrier that shimmered violet under the cavern’s breath.

Tor placed his hand against it. "Locked."

"Figures," Rou muttered. "Of course, it’s not going to let us waltz in."

Qadira tilted her head. "There’s a time enchantment woven into it."

Tor looked at the barrier again, jaw clenched. "We need to go in when the moon is full. "

We camped just outside the sealed gate, too tense to fully rest. I sat cross-legged against the wall, eyes fixed on the barrier. Time passed slowly, marked only by the deepening cold and the gradual shift of energy in the air. By the time night fell, we all felt it magic awakening like a held breath released.

It was nightfall when Qadira whispered, "Now."

But before we could move, the temperature dropped, and from the shadows behind us, something moved. It stepped out of the darkness like it had always belonged to a black-hooded creature, tall, silent, faceless. Its form seemed to flicker, like a dying flame licked by smoke. No scent. No heartbeat.

"The Shadow Freak," Rou hissed.

Tor stepped forward and then, under the silver glow cutting down from an unseen break in the mountain’s ceiling, he shifted. Bones cracked. Flesh stretched. The sound was both beautiful and brutal. Tor stood tall in his full Lycan form, fur like night fire under the moonlight, eyes glowing with that ancient rage he never let surface. His growl echoed through the chamber like a death toll.

The Shadow Freak tilted its head, and Tor did not wait, and with a roar, he lunged.I have always known Tor was powerful. I have seen him command armies with a single word, silence packs with nothing more than his gaze. I have felt that strength in the quiet, too when his hand curls around mine at night, or when he pulls me back from my darkness with nothing but a look. But here, beneath the haunted bones of Blood Stone Mountain, I saw something else.

As the Shadow Freak materialized from the void—no scent, no sound, just pure malevolence wrapped in a hood of shadows I stepped back on instinct. That thing did not belong in this world. It was a silent weaponized. Decay made flesh, and Tor did not hesitate.

He stepped forward, and the shift came fast, beautiful in its brutality. His body expanded with cracking bone and wild muscle, fur racing across skin like fire over dry grass. When his eyes lifted to the moonbeam spilling down from the unseen cracks above, they glowed like twin suns in a storm.

And then there he was—Gale, in full form. My mate, my Alpha, my lifemate. His fur was the deep grey of thunderclouds, streaked with silver that shimmered like lightning as he moved. The power rolling off him made the ground tremble. My breath caught in my throat—not in fear, but awe. The Shadow Freak lunged fast, slick, like smoke laced with poison—but Gale was faster.

He slammed into it with a roar that cracked the stone around us. Claws tore through the shadow like it was cloth. His howl shattered the tension in the air like glass, sending birds screeching even outside the mountain. That sound was not just a battle cry; it was a claim.

The Shadow Freak slipped into smoke, reformed behind him, only for Tor to spin, grab its midsection, and slam it into the ground hard enough that the floor split. The creature shrieked, high and wrong, twisting to escape. He pinned it down and roared, pouring raw Lycan dominance into the creature’s fading form.

Wind whipped around us, even though we were deep underground. Moonlight thickened above him, wrapping around his body like armor. And through all the fury, all the violence, all the divine, elemental force he unleashed, I could still feel him.

The Shadow Freak convulsed, unravelling under his strength. Tor slammed it one final time, claws raking through the thing’s chest, and it screamed before dissolving into ash and dust, carried away on winds that should not exist.

Silence fell, and Gale turned slowly; breath heavy, golden eyes locked on me. Even now, with blood on his claws and magic clinging to his skin, he was beautiful.

I stepped forward, chest tight with pride and love. "Tor. You are the whole damn moon."

He huffed a breath that was a growl, then shifted back, bare skin wrapped in threads of summoned cloth, eyes still glowing. "Only when you’re watching," he murmured and leaned in for a kiss, and I beamed with joy without caring for anyone in the room.

The ashes of the Shadow Freak were still swirling through the air when Tor stepped beside me. His hand brushed against mine, and just like that, the weight in my chest loosened.

"We’re clear," he said, voice low and sure. "We move."

Behind us, Qadira nodded, her face pale but determined. Flora and Rita flanked her, blades still drawn, eyes scanning the dark. Rolan shifted beside them, barely concealing the beast in his blood. The mountain was alive, and it rumbled like a heart about to stop with the kind of magic that made your bones remember fear. We stepped toward the barrier, and it shimmered across the tunnel mouth like glass made from moonlight and ancient blood. For days, it had held us back, still and unyielding, only opening when the night came to claim us.

"Together," Ma stated, and her voice was steady, but I could feel the tension in her shoulders, like storm winds held just beneath the surface. She reached out, and I moved with her, our hands brushing the veil.

No crack, no sound, just sudden absence, as if the world sighed and decided it was time and the barrier fell away, revealing a vast cavern lit from within by veins of glowing red and gold running through the rock like the mountain’s bloodstream. The air was hot and damp, thick with ancient power. Magic clung to the walls, dripping from the ceiling in silent threads.

We moved in slowly, and every step forward felt like a descent into something older than war, older than vampires, older than all of us. Ma whispered something behind me, a chant, and the ground sloped down into a spiral, and the silence grew heavier with every breath.

The deeper we moved, the hotter it became. Not the heat of fire but something worse. The heat of breath held too long, of blood that should not boil but does. The stone glowed from within, pulsating in the rhythm of a heartbeat that did not belong to any of us.

We reached the final chamber, and the cavern opened wide and dome-like, as though the mountain itself had hollowed its chest to make room for what lived here. Pillars of jagged obsidian rose around us like the ribs of some ancient god.

And above us the ceiling was open and split by the hand of fate or time or something far older. Moonlight poured in through the wound in the mountain, silver and cold and holy. And the core drank it, and the ground shimmered under the light. Lines carved into the black stone pulsed, veins of red and violet illuminating from deep beneath, like something was waking up. The air turned electric. My breath hitched, and I instinctively reached for Tor.

He stood at the front of our line, shoulders squared, golden eyes locked on the glowing centre of the chamber.

"Do you feel that?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice low with grit. "It’s breathing."

The entire mountain groaned like it had lungs. The rumble beneath our feet was not just stone it was life. Or something that had waited too long to be called alive.

Magic clawed at our skin, old and foul. Rita hissed and took a step back, but Flora touched her arm and grounded her. Qadira stood still, her eyes wide with dawning horror. Rolan tensed beside her, half-shifted already, claws twitching. From the centre of the chamber, the stone cracked and rose. A shape began to form from the floor itself, wet and skeletal, its outline oozing shadow and flame. It stood tall. Far too tall. Horns curled back from its head. Its rib cage was open like a blooming flower, and inside, something glowed red and hungry.

"Back," Tor growled.

But the thing only laughed, and the sound echoed through every hollow in the mountain through my skull, my chest, my soul. It was not just a sound. It was a memory of terror from every generation that had ever known the name Ash Marcel.

"I’ve waited," it hissed. "And you are finally here.

And as the full moon poured its silver judgment into the chamber, the mountain itself screamed, and Ash Marcel opened his eyes.

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