BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 255: QADIRA’S LAST REQUEST

Chapter 255: QADIRA’S LAST REQUEST

{"A daughter’s request holds more than words—it carries trust, love, and the belief that you’ll understand."}

The halls of the Bloodstone Citadel buzzed with quiet activity, but as Dante and I stepped through the grand doors of the Coven’s official wing, a hush followed us. Not of tension but reverence. The kind that lingers when change has finally settled in and the old guard walks in with new peace in their hearts.

The guards bowed as we passed. Dante walked beside me, his presence calm, grounding. The new dawn still clung to his hair in golden streaks, and I caught myself smiling quietly, letting that warmth steady my steps.

Aurora and Nessa stood at the threshold of the Coven Office, elegant, commanding, but with unmistakable softness in their eyes when they saw us. Aurora wore her robes of twilight blue today, her silver hair braided with moonstones that caught the light like falling stars. Nessa’s hand rested gently at the small of her back, a silent reassurance that never seemed to waver between them.

"Sierra," Aurora said, her voice gentle. "You look well. Thank you for coming over."

"I am," I replied, offering her a small smile. "And you’re radiant, as always."

Dante gave them both a respectful nod before moving quietly aside to give us space.

Nessa stepped forward first, enveloping me in a warm, sisterly embrace. "It’s good to see you smile," she murmured. "Truly."

Then Aurora reached for my hands, holding them between hers as if grounding something sacred.

"I wanted to speak to you privately," she said, eyes locking with mine. "About Qadira."

A pang of emotion fluttered through me at the sound of my daughter’s name, one part fierce pride, another part longing. "What about her?"

Aurora exhaled slowly, then pulled a folded parchment from the desk nearby. "Before she left for the Bay Shifter lands with Rolan, she came to me. Alone. She asked for one final thing, Sierra." I felt my pulse quicken.

"She asked me to make a vow," Aurora continued. "To ensure that should anything ever happen... should danger rise again, or the world tilt once more into darkness... that you would be protected. That you would never again be left to carry everything alone."

My breath caught. "She said," Aurora added softly, "’My mother has given everything. Her strength, her youth, her grief, and her love. Let her be guarded now. Let her rest in peace, not in death, but in life.’"

My throat tightened, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I had not known. I had not expected this. My daughter, my wild, radiant daughter, had left behind a shield for me when I never thought to ask for one.

"I didn’t protect her from every storm," I whispered.

"No," Aurora said, squeezing my hands, "but she grew into a woman strong enough to weather them. Because of you."

Nessa came to stand beside her, a quiet nod of agreement. "And so," Aurora said, her voice now steady and official, "by her wish and my word as Coven Lord, you will be protected under my house and my seal. Always. Not as a symbol. Not as a relic. But as Sierra Kayne, who is still very much needed and deeply, deeply valued."

I closed my eyes for a breath and let the tears fall quietly, unashamed.

"I don’t know how to thank her," I said softly.

Aurora smiled. "Live, Sierra. That is all she ever wanted for you."

And in that moment, wrapped in the quiet strength of her promise and my daughter’s final gift, I knew I would.

Nessa caught up with me just outside the office, her hand light on my arm.

"Sierra, do you have a moment?" she asked gently, though her tone carried a quiet urgency.

I turned toward her, nodding. "Of course. What is it?"

She glanced toward the high windows where the sun spilled in, painting patterns across the ancient stone floor. Her brow was furrowed, not with fear, but with the weight of someone who had spent too many nights thinking about things no one else noticed.

"It’s the Council Hall," she said, dropping her voice slightly. "We have had wards in place since before I came into leadership, and during the worst of the Blood Stone unrest, they held. But... there has been a shift. A kind of thinning. I can feel it."

I blinked at her, my attention sharpening. "You think something’s compromised them?"

"I think time has," she said, eyes narrowing. "And old magic, no matter how noble, eventually frays. We have relied on protections that have not been reinforced since before Aurora ascended."

I understood then. Not fear. Vigilance. Nessa was not the type to speak of these things lightly. If she was asking me, it was not for appearances. It was real.

"You want me to inspect the ward line?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, with relief. "Not just inspect it—renew it if you can. Add your hand to it. You still carry the bloodline magic of the Mira, even if the mantle has passed to Qadira. And your knowledge of the old binding rituals is unparalleled."

I hesitated, not out of reluctance, but from the gravity of the task. Warding the Council Hall was not just a matter of symbols and circles it meant safeguarding every elder, every leader, every piece of fragile wisdom that had kept our people together through darkness and fire.

"I’ll do it," I said softly. "Tonight, while the chambers are empty. I will walk every corner by myself."

Nessa’s eyes softened, her relief visible.

"Thank you, Sierra. We need you. Not just for your power, but for your steadiness."

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "I will always protect this place. It raised me as much as I raised my children."

She reached out, clasping my hand. "And in return, we will protect you." As Nessa stepped away, I looked up at the arching windows, the light filtering through like memory. The Council Hall had stood for centuries. It would stand for centuries more, so long as those who loved it still walked its floors with vigilance.

Hours later, the night fell with a hush over the Moonstone Citadel. The Council Hall stood in quiet reverence beneath the moon’s silver gaze, its great arched windows catching the light like still water. Most had long since retired to their quarters. Even the guards outside the chamber spoke in hushed tones, giving me a respectful nod as I approached with my warding satchel slung over one shoulder.

I paused at the threshold, letting the energy of the space wash over me and it was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone who had not been trained in old magic, but Nessa was right. The wards were fraying. Not broken. Not breached. Just... thinning. Weakened by time, faded by change. Like skin stretched too tight over old bones.

I stepped into the hall, and the massive doors whispered shut behind me and the silence welcomed me like an old friend. With each footstep echoing across the polished stone floor, I let my senses stretch outward feeling the pulse of the citadel, the old protective symbols carved into the foundation, the invisible lattice of energy woven into the walls. It was still there. Still humming. But faltering at the edges.

I knelt before the central dais, the place where the elders debated, where the coven’s fate was shaped.

I placed my palms against the stone, whispering the invocation of the Mira.

"I call the root, the flame, the wind, and the tide. I call the names of those who stood before. I lend my strength not to power, but to protection. Let the heart of this place beat stronger again."

The symbols shimmered faintly, coming to life beneath my hands. A pale violet glow radiated outward, tracing the invisible lines of the ancient wards. One by one, I moved through the hall corners, thresholds, windows, walls, reinforcing every anchor point with salt, blood, and whispered magic. My blood offered freely. Mira’s blood is still remembered. At the northern arch, the oldest point of the chamber, the stone resisted me. The ward there had nearly collapsed. I inhaled slowly, pressing my hand to the cold granite and whispering deeper words once my mother had whispered into my sleeping ear as a child, and hers before her.

"Stone to root, root to bone. Guard what is sacred. Guard what is home."

A shudder rolled through the hall like a breath released. The old barrier flared to life, brighter than before. I stood at the centre once more, taking in the renewed hum of the chamber. The Council would be safe. The knowledge here, the generations of memory they would not be lost to neglect or time.

As I turned to leave, I caught sight of my reflection in the tall window glass. The woman standing there was no longer the sole keeper of power, no longer the grieving widow or the burdened mother. She was something steadier now. Part of the roots. Part of the stone. The Mira might have passed on. But I, Sierra Kayne, still stood and still protected what mattered. I walked out of the council hall with the feeling of achievement and the love for the Paradise Vampire council coven, and knew that the one who was proudest of me the most was Qadira.