BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 272: THE MOUNTAIN SUMMONS

Chapter 272: THE MOUNTAIN SUMMONS

{"When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in."}

The walk back was quiet. Qadira’s fingers were laced with mine the entire way, her presence grounding me even as something distant stirred within my chest. We returned to the small stone guest home at the edge of Bay Shifter territory, nestled beneath trees that whispered with the night wind. A place meant to feel temporary, yet with her in it, it already felt like home.

We undressed in silence, slipping beneath the cool sheets. She curled into my side, head resting against my chest, her breath warm and steady. I kissed her hair, murmured something soft I did not remember, and closed my eyes.

But sleep did not come gently, and the dream swept over me like a storm, sudden and consuming. I stood in the mountains—not just any range, but the spires of Rogourau Peak, towering and ancient, their snowy caps shining with a silver light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The wind howled around me, not with cold but with purpose, with memory, with calling.

The stone beneath my feet rumbled. I turned, and there it was—the ancestral home, carved into the mountain’s side, dark and brooding, yet alive with flickers of light in the high windows. I felt it in my marrow.

A summons.

From within the mountain itself, not just stone or spirit but something older. The soul of the Rogourau line was calling me home. A voice, low and ancient, echoed through the peaks, not spoken but felt. "Son of the Mountain, born of the Moon and to serve the Lycans, Guardian once hidden. Return. Reclaim. Rise." Flashes of flame and shadow followed half-seen shapes circling the home, a presence looming in the dark like a memory that refused to stay buried.

I jolted awake, chest heaving, damp with sweat. The room was quiet, dim with early moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Qadira stirred beside me. "Rolan?" Her voice was drowsy, laced with concern.

I did not answer immediately. I was still there, standing on those peaks, hearing the mountain’s cry.

Finally, I whispered, "It’s calling me."

She rose on one elbow. "What is?"

I turned to her, voice barely audible. "The mountains have summoned me home. I need to go back and pay homage to them as I have been away for too long.

Her hand slipped into mine beneath the sheets. "Then we go."

I woke with the weight of stone and wind still pressed against my chest. The dream had not left me it lingered like a fire smouldering beneath my skin. The voice of the mountain, its ancient pull, its command... it still echoed in my bones.

Qadira stirred beside me, eyes fluttering open. She met my gaze instantly.

"You didn’t sleep," she murmured.

I shook my head. "No love, I am restless and will only calm down once I get to the mountain."

She sat up, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Then we go."

There were no arguments. No hesitation. We moved in quiet synchrony, showering, dressing, and gathering what little we needed.

She paused at the door. "Should we tell Rolan?"

I nodded. "It’s time."

The walk-through Bay Shifter territory was swift. The guards recognized us and stepped aside without question. Morning mist still clung to the ground as we approached the home of Alpha Rou Rogourau. He was already in the foyer, as if he had known we were coming, and his eyes scanned me once quietly and sharply, then settled on Qadira. "I felt the shift last night."

I nodded, stepping forward. "The mountains have felt my presence and summoned me home.

Rou’s expression did not falter. "Then the Rogourau bloodline is stirring, and the mountain remembers its own."

"We came to tell you," I said. "We are returning. To the ancestral home and the mountain, feel I need to be there."

Rou rose, stepping closer. "Are you ready for what the mountain will show you? It does not summon lightly. There are memories buried in that stone... and truths even I was not ready to face."

"I need to know who I am," I said." I will bear the responsibility."

Qadira laced her fingers with mine. "And I will go with him and whatever the mountain holds, he won’t face it alone."

Rou studied me quietly. Then, without preamble, he said, "Would you lead them?"

I blinked. "What?"

"The Rogourau," he said, stepping closer. "Our people. Our blood. I have carried the title of Alpha long enough. I have bled, fought, and buried too many things under the snow. But my time is fading. And the mountain does not call me anymore. It calls you." He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You are the son of our bloodline, Rolan. You survived when others fell. You lived in the shadows to protect the realm. But you were never meant to stay in the shadows. The mountain wants your back. Not as a ghost... but as its Alpha."

I felt the weight of his words settle in my chest. And then Qadira spoke softly, standing beside me.

"You were born to lead, Rolan. Now, finally, it is your time."

I swallowed hard and looked at Rou. "If I take this on, I will not do it halfway. I will lead them and protect them as long as I live.

Rou smiled, and it was full of peace. "You will make a fine Alpha."

I nodded, the decision settling into place. "Then I will go," I said. "Not just to answer the call. But to take the place of the Alpha Rogourau. I promise that I will not disappoint your brother."

Rou’s eyes gleamed with pride. "Then the Rogourau rise again under your name."

We embraced, and then Qadira and I turned toward the path that would take us home. We had just crossed the main courtyard when Qadira tugged gently on my arm, halting us near the edge of the stone path.

"Before we leave," she said softly, her eyes lifting to meet mine, "I’d like to see Freyr... just for a moment."

I nodded immediately. "Of course."

The sun filtered down through the branches above, scattering golden light across the walkway as we made our way toward Alpha Tor’s home. The guards posted at the entrance bowed in greeting, letting us pass without question. The scent of pine and citrus lingered in the air, a familiar marker of the Alpha’s residence.

We were led to the garden at the back of the home, where Freyr stood by the balcony, speaking in low tones with Tor. His silver eyes caught ours instantly, and warmth flickered across his face the moment he saw his sister.

"Qadira," Freyr greeted, pulling her into a tight embrace before she could say a word. "Leaving so soon?"

"I have to," she murmured, clutching him tightly. "Rolan is being called back to the mountain... and I go where he goes. But I could not leave without seeing you."

Tor moved to stand beside me as the siblings spoke in hushed tones. I gave him a respectful nod, which he returned without hesitation.

Freyr finally pulled back and cupped Qadira’s face. "Be safe. And if he gives you any trouble—" he shot me a mock glare, "—I’ll come find him."

Qadira laughed softly. "He will not. And you will be proud of him. He is going back not as a warrior, but as a leader."

Freyr turned to me then, his gaze leveling. "Take care of her, Rolan."

"I will. With everything I am," I said without faltering.

The moment was quite powerful. A small farewell among threads of blood, love, and duty. Tor stepped forward then, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You’re always welcome here, Rolan

"Thank you," I said.

And then, with one last embrace between siblings, Qadira and I turned back toward the path, the wind carrying us forward. The forest thinned behind us as the towering peaks of the Rogourau mountains came into view, majestic, brooding, and carved into my very soul. The wind carried the chill of high altitudes, scented with moss, pine, and the faint echo of power. Qadira walked beside me, her hood drawn up, the folds of her deep-blue cloak fluttering with each breeze. Her gaze lifted toward the distant peaks, curiosity and quiet reverence in her expression.

"I always thought mountains looked like sleeping titans," she said, brushing her fingers along a lichen-covered rock as we passed. "Now I see why they call to you."

"They are alive," I murmured. "They remember us."

The ancient trail wound ahead like a serpent, carved through steep ridges and narrow ledges. Every step we took brought with it memories of my first patrol, the echo of my father’s howl in the wind, the cold that never bit as hard as duty once did. Birds wheeled overhead, cawing into the vast sky as shadows lengthened. The sun dipped lower behind the ridgeline, painting the cliffs in amber and rose.

"I can feel it too now," Qadira said quietly. "The mountain... It’s waiting."

I glanced at her. "You are part of this legacy now. It recognizes your spirit, even if your blood is not of these slopes."

She offered me a small smile, tucking her hand into mine. "Wherever you go, I will follow."

A silence stretched between us, not heavy, but solemn. The kind that lingers before a homecoming and ahead of the great gate stones of the old Rogourau keep began to peek through the fog. Ivy crawled along the arches, and the symbols of our clan, etched wolves intertwined with mountain walls, glimmered faintly beneath the moss.

"I haven’t walked this path in years," I said, voice low. "But it feels like I never left."

"Then let’s return," Qadira replied, stepping forward. "Together."

As the wind picked up and the sky darkened to twilight, we pressed onward.