Chapter 15: The Luna’s Command
1112 Words
The scent of ozone and copper hung heavy in the air as I stood over the unconscious witch. My hand was still stinging from the silver blade, but the blood of the white wolf had done its work. Throughout the palace, the magical veil had lifted, and the sudden, frantic sounds of real combat replaced the eerie silence.
I turned to Sarah, who had emerged from the nursery with a heavy iron fire poker in her hand. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.
"Take them to the sub-basement bunker," I commanded, shifting my weight as my wolf paced restlessly under my skin. "Do not open the door for anyone but Killian or me. If a wolf tries to get in, use the silver-nitrate spray in my bag."
"Elara, you can't go out there," Sarah whispered, her gaze darting to my bleeding palm. "You're hurt."
"I'm a Luna, Sarah," I said, the words feeling like a physical weight in the room. "And my pack is being slaughtered in their own homes. I am not hiding in a cellar while my King fights alone."
I knelt one last time, pulling Leo, Maya, and Toby into a tight embrace. Leo looked at me with those silver eyes, so full of ancient understanding. He didn't cry. He simply nodded and took his siblings' hands.
"Go," I urged.
As soon as the hidden door clicked shut behind them, I let the shift take me.
The transformation was no longer a struggle. It was a release. The white wolf burst forth, her coat glowing with a faint, ethereal light that seemed to cut through the lingering purple haze of the witch’s magic. I didn't head for the stairs; I dove through the terrace window, the glass shattering like diamonds as I leaped three stories down into the courtyard.
I landed in a crouch, a low, guttural growl vibrating through the pavement.
The palace courtyard had become a slaughterhouse. Iron Fang warriors, no longer hidden by illusions, were locked in a brutal melee with the Silver Moon guards. I saw a group of our younger scouts being pinned against the barracks wall by a massive Iron Fang commander.
I didn't hesitate. I was a blur of white light and fury. I hit the commander from the side, my jaws snapping shut on his shoulder with surgical precision. I knew exactly where the brachial artery sat. One sharp tug, and the threat was neutralized.
The Silver Moon wolves froze, staring at me in awe.
"With me!" I projected the thought into their minds, a command that echoed with the authority of the Moon itself.
The effect was instantaneous. The morale of the Silver Moon pack, which had been flagging under the magical assault, surged. They didn't see a rejected omega; they saw the legend they had been told of since they were pups. We moved like a white tide through the palace grounds, cutting through the Iron Fang ranks with a efficiency that was terrifying.
I saw the battlefield through a doctor’s eyes. I saw the weak points in the enemy’s stances, the irregular rhythms of their breathing, and the hesitation in their eyes when they faced a wolf that shouldn't exist. We pushed them back, gate by gate, until we reached the main entrance of the city.
There, the world seemed to narrow down to two figures.
Alpha Silas of the Iron Fang was a mountain of a man, his fur a dark, mangy gray. He was older than Killian, but he fought with the desperation of a man who knew his legacy was failing. He held a massive, silver-edged broadsword, a relic of the old wars that should have been buried long ago.
Killian was a mess of blood and silver-burns. His royal robes were shredded, his chest heaving as he parried a blow that would have cleaved a lesser wolf in two. He was fighting with a cold, focused rage, but he was losing ground. Silas had a Northern Coven charm hanging from his neck, one that pulsed with a dark light every time their blades met, draining Killian’s strength.
"You chose a peasant over a princess, Killian!" Silas roared, his voice like grinding stones. "Now your city will burn, and your line will end in the ash!"
Silas raised his sword for a final, overhead strike. Killian’s knees buckled, the magical drain finally taking its toll.
I didn't wait. I shifted back to human form mid-run, the silver dagger I had taken from the sanctum held tight in my hand. I knew I couldn't beat Silas in a test of strength, but I knew the one thing he didn't: the anatomy of the dark charm around his neck.
I leaped, catching Silas by the shoulder. He roared in surprise, trying to shake me off, but I was a shadow. I drove the silver dagger not into his flesh, but into the core of the glowing red gemstone on his chest.
The gem shattered.
A shockwave of dark energy exploded outward, throwing me back against the stone wall. The air was sucked out of the courtyard as the Northern Coven’s link snapped. Silas let out a scream of agony as the magic he had been leaching backfired, scorching his very veins.
Killian didn't miss the opening. He surged forward, his claws finding Silas’s throat.
The battle for the gate ended in a sudden, heavy silence. Killian stood over the fallen Alpha, his breathing ragged, his eyes fixed on me.
"Elara," he croaked, dropping his head as the last of his adrenaline faded.
I tried to stand, but the blast had done its damage. My vision was swimming, and I could feel the cold bite of a broken rib. Killian reached me in two strides, his large hands trembling as he pulled me into his lap.
"The children?" he asked, his voice a broken whisper.
"Safe," I managed, a small, bloody smile touching my lips. "They are safe, Killian."
He let out a sob of pure relief, burying his face in my neck. Around us, the Iron Fang warriors were surrendering, their Alpha dead and their magic gone. The Silver Moon had held.
But as I looked past Killian, toward the dark tree line of the forest, I saw a single, hooded figure watching us. The witch I had broken was gone, but the Northern Coven had many sisters. They hadn't come for the throne. They had come for the white wolf's blood.
And as the figure raised a hand, pointing directly at me before vanishing into the trees, I knew the war hadn't ended at the gate. It had just moved into the shadows.
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