BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 281: SHADOWS OVER HANKA ISLAND

Chapter 281: SHADOWS OVER HANKA ISLAND

{"I will remind the island of dreams and wonder and magic just what it means to rise past the shadows and chase after the stars."}

FREY’S POV

The air was thick with salt and omen. As our boots sank into the damp sands of Hanka Island, I knew deep in the marrow of my vampire bones that we were already too late to beat the tide. The skies churned above us, clouds swollen and restless, casting an eerie violet hue across the sea. The waters, once serene, now clawed hungrily at the shoreline in wild, crashing waves. The ocean was not just angry.

It was awakening, and beside me, Tor stood tall, his eyes locked on the horizon, jaw clenched. Even without speaking, I could feel his tension through the bond we had forged in blood and battle. Behind us, Rou power, ancient and unyielding, walked in silence, his gaze flicking from the sea to the shadowed mountains rising inland. Elle moved at his side, calm yet alert, her hand resting near the blade at her hip.

"I’ve never seen Hanka like this," Tor muttered, voice low, the gravel in his throat echoing over the wind.

"Neither have I," I replied, narrowing my eyes as another swell rose, taller than the last. "And that tide is not just weather. It is her."

Ashanai.

The name struck like cold steel through my thoughts. The sea goddess or whatever dark, ancient thing she had become, was stirring beneath those waters. And the full tide meant her arrival was near.

Rou stepped forward, his expression grim as he stared into the pulsing heart of the ocean. "The mountain warned us," he said quietly. "She is using the dragon spirit bound to this island. If we do not seal her, she will rise with his power."

"Then we seal her," I said, fingers twitching, my hunger stirred not by blood but by the rising magic. "Before she turns this entire island into a grave."

Elle stepped beside him, her voice steady but sharp. "Where do we begin?"

Tor turned his gaze inland. "With the ruins. The mountain paths will give us what we need. The tide may be rising, but so are we." And as the waves roared louder, crashing closer to our boots, I knew we had no choice.

Suddenly, a sound tore through it. A roar so ancient, so deep, it did not just ring in my ears, it rattled inside my bones. Gerod, the Guardian of Hanka Island, had awakened. The sand beneath my boots vibrates violently, a low rumble building until the entire shoreline trembles like a living beast. Tor took a defensive stance beside me, his wolf eyes flaring with primal fire. Rou stiffened, his massive frame drawing inward like he was listening not with his ears, but with his blood.

Elle turned toward the sea, her voice tense. "That is not just a roar. That was a warning."

But the warning had come too late as the tides surge twice as high as before. No rhythm, no grace, just violent, heaving swells crashing against the beach like fists made of water and dark power. The wind carried the scent of rot and brine now, foul and heavy. Something had come through. And we felt it, all of us, if the weight of a nightmare pressed down on our souls. My power sparked inside me, but it did not flare. It staggered. As if the ocean’s rage was choking it, wrapping invisible fingers around the flow of energy in the air.

Tor growled low, eyes flashing gold. "She’s corrupting the tide and using it to suppress the island’s magic."

"She’s pushing in," Rou muttered, his voice grave. "The devils already seeped past the shore. If Gerod does not hold her back... she will consume Hanka whole."

Elle’s fingers wrapped tightly around her blade. "Then we get to the ruins. Now."

The ground quaked again, and another roar from Gerod, this one full of pain. And I knew then, with grim certainty, that the Guardian was fighting something far more dangerous than a storm. We reached the beach ruins just as the wind turned sharp and wet, whipping the scent of salt and something... wrong into the air. Ancient stone pillars jutted from the sand like broken teeth, half-swallowed by the tides and twisted by time. Symbols carved in forgotten tongues pulsed faintly under the touch of moonlight, but whatever power they once held had grown dim, like a flame suffocating in smoke.

Tor crouched near a sunken archway, fingers brushing moss-covered runes. "This place was sacred."

"Not anymore," Elle said grimly, eyes scanning the sea.

That is when we heard low growls bubbling up through the water, not like any sea creature I had ever known. Then came the shapes dark, fast, slithering toward the shore through the waves like shadows hunting light.

They broke the surface, one by one. Creatures, twisted, wet, and snarling. Their forms were wrong, distorted limbs, ragged fur soaked in brine, but unmistakable. Each bore the heavy muscle and bone-plated arms of a Rogourau. But smaller. Faster. Corrupted. Rou froze beside me, the colour draining from his face. He took one step forward, then another until the water touched his boots. And then he whispered it, so low I barely heard him:

"Impossible."

I turned to him, eyes narrowing. "You know what those things are?"

"They’re not supposed to exist." His voice cracked like old stone. "They were myths told to frighten cubs. Rogourau was cast into the sea during the Great Fracture. Beasts drowned in dishonour. Dead things."

The creatures shrieked as they climbed onto the ruins, hunched and snarling, eyes glowing with something ancient and hungry and Elle growled and Tor shifted, his Local wolf close to the surface.

Rou stepped in front of us, his voice turning deep and reverent, but laced with sorrow. "These were once mine." One of the creatures locked eyes with him and it smiled.

The moment hung heavy salt on my tongue, fear threading through the wind. The corrupted Rogourau beasts hissed as they circled the ruins, their grotesque bodies slick with seaweed and shadow, eyes glowing like drowned embers.

Rou moved closer; his expression carved from stone. But I could feel the tremor in him—an old wound tearing open.

He turned to me, voice low and urgent, barely above the crash of waves.

"Freyr... I need the Mira magic in you." His golden eyes flicked toward the tide. "I destroyed them once. But that was with the Elders at my back, and the full power of the mountain in my bones. Now that they have risen through the dark waters... I will need more than my best to end them again."

I stared at him for a heartbeat. And then I nodded and without a word, I stepped forward, reached for the flickering current within me, the Mira flame, old as the stars and laid my hand over his chest. The moment I opened the stream, power surged between us like a river of silver light. Rou gasped, his muscles tensing, breath caught in a growl.

The Mira magic flowed into him, crackling beneath his skin like fire made of moonlight. And then he shifted and not just into his Rogourau form, no, this was something greater. His beast grew, bones snapping into place with thunder, fur gleaming with silver fire. His horns lengthened, glowing with ancient sigils that had once marked the true Guardians of the Mountain. His roar shook the sand beneath our feet. And then he lunged, and the corrupted ones did not stand a chance. Rou struck like a storm, slamming into them with primal fury, his claws tearing through sea-drenched flesh as Mira’s light exploded from his strikes. Creatures shrieked and fell in bursts of steam and flame.

Elle gave a cry and launched herself forward, her blade singing through the air, silver sparks trailing in her wake and Tor roared beside her, half-shifted, fangs bared as he joined the fray, eyes blazing like a dying sun.

And I stood at the heart of the ruins, hands raised, guarding the circle of runes. The Mira magic still hummed in me, watching, waiting, ready to strike if the tide turned again.

The clash of the beast echoed across the ruined beach, the stench of sea rot and old magic thick in the air. Rou tore through the corrupted beasts like a living storm, Mira’s light streaking across the dark tide with every strike. Elle moved beside him with precision and fury, her blade gleaming, her wolf surging beneath her skin. Tor fought at her back, feral, primal, his roars echoing through the mist.

But something shifted and the waves crashed harder. A voice ancient and deep like stone breaking beneath water.

"Protect the Haven..." My breath caught.

I staggered, blinking through the magic that shimmered across the beach, and turned just in time to see Tor stiffen his spine locking, his nostrils flaring, golden eyes flaring wide. He heard it too.

"Freyr," he said low, the word laced with dread. "Did you—?"

"I heard him. It was Gerod. "The Guardian of Hanka Island. The ancient dragon was bound to the island’s soul. His voice had not spoken in over a century. Now, it thundered through our bones.

"Ashanai comes. For the Haven. The chamber must not fall. I hold the island, but not for long."

I clenched my jaw, a cold shiver racing down my spine. The tide was still rising, surging with unnatural strength. Ashanai is here and her power was clawing at the island’s edges like a parasite seeking a crack.

I turned to Tor, whose eyes gleamed with fury and purpose. "She’s after the Haven Chamber," I said. "Gerod’s using everything he has to keep her from taking it."

Tor nodded once, his jaw set. "We need to go." My heart pounded; Mira’s fire alive beneath my skin.

I looked toward Rou, still fighting, lit with our shared magic, and Elle beside him like the blade of fate, and yelled, "Rou, we need to go, you hold them back with Elle."

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