Wolvenmark - The Forbidden Mate

Chapter 19 : Whispers Beneath the Full Moon II

Chapter 19 : Whispers Beneath the Full Moon II

Al's POV

Within moments, dark shapes broke from the treeline. Wolves padded forward, their eyes glinting with feral caution before melting into human form. The night air shimmered faintly with leftover energy from their shift. Broad-shouldered men and sharp-eyed women stood before us, their clothes simple but their stance anything but. Warriors, every one of them.

I lifted my chin and greeted first, my voice calm but edged with authority. “Good day. Forgive us if we’ve crossed your territory uninvited. We mean no harm.”

A man stepped forward from their ranks. His presence carried the weight of command, each movement precise, deliberate. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his amber eyes studied me with quiet sharpness that made it clear nothing escaped him.

“No worries,” he said, though his tone suggested he measured every word. “You’re here for the Luneveil Archives, aren’t you?”

I didn’t flinch. “I am.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like amusement. “I am Fenric Blackwood, Alpha of the Blackwood Pack.” He extended his arm with the confidence of someone who had never once questioned his right to lead.

I clasped his hand firmly, steel meeting steel. “Alaric Silvermoon, Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, flickering with curiosity. “An Alpha?” He stepped back just enough to look me over, assessing, weighing. “You look… young.”

“I became Alpha at eighteen,” I answered evenly.

His brows arched, surprise slipping through his composure. “Eighteen? That’s almost unheard of. What happened to your predecessor?”

“My father,” I said, voice tight. “He was killed.”

The air shifted. Fenric’s expression hardened, shadows cutting deeper across his face. “Stone Heart Pack?” His voice carried a hint of venom at the name. “They’ve grown more violent these past years—raiding borders, slaughtering whole bloodlines.”

I shook my head. My jaw locked. “No. It was the Midnight Runners.”

The reaction was instant. The group behind him stirred, low murmurs rippling through them. Fenric’s frown deepened, his amber gaze sharpening into disbelief.

“The Midnight Runners?” he repeated slowly. “That doesn’t align. They were many things, but reckless murderers of other packs? Never.”

“They still killed my father,” I said, the words punching through the heavy air.

Silence fell, thick and strange.

One of the men at Fenric’s back finally spoke, his tone cautious, almost reluctant. “But… I heard the Stone Hearts wiped them out.”

A hollow chill ran down my spine. Wiped out?

The claim didn’t sit right. My instincts bristled, whispering that there was more here than anyone was saying. My father’s death, the Midnight Runners’ supposed fall—it was all tangled in threads I couldn’t yet see.

Fenric’s eyes lingered on me, studying my silence too closely. Then, with a slow exhale, he shifted the conversation, deliberately brushing aside the tension.

“Anyway, you’re not here for old war stories. Go, find what you need.” He gestured toward the cathedral.

“Thank you,” I said, ready to move forward.

“Apologies for not greeting you sooner,” Fenric added, “we’ve been preparing for my son’s mating ritual tomorrow. With the full moon upon us, it’s an important night.”

I nodded, though his words made my chest tighten.

The full moon was coming fast. After this one, I would only have two left.

Shadow and I didn’t waste any more time. With a final glance at the Blackwood Pack, we stepped into the ruins—toward the secrets waiting in the Luneveil Archives.

Shadow and I stepped into the abandoned church, its hollow silence wrapping around us like a ghostly whisper. Dust hung in the air, disturbed only by our footsteps echoing against the worn stone floors.

"Straight to the altar, few drops of blood," I muttered, recalling Stone’s instructions. Without hesitation, I walked up to the ancient structure, pressing a blade to my finger until crimson droplets stained the cold surface.

The ground trembled beneath us. A deep, guttural sound echoed through the ruined church as an unseen mechanism shifted. Then, right before our eyes, the altar split open, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling downward. Shadow and I exchanged glances before descending into the unknown.

At the bottom, an ancient library stretched endlessly, its towering shelves filled with thousands of books—some crumbling with age, others humming faintly with unseen energy. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and something older… something powerful.

"This is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack," I murmured, taking in the sheer vastness of the archives.

We began searching, focusing on texts related to the bond between an Alpha and their Luna. Hours passed, books stacking up around us as we uncovered lost histories, forgotten rituals, and myths barely spoken of anymore. Then, something caught my eye.

A passage on the Lunar Bequeathal.

‘Lunar Bequeathal is an ancient and sacred ritual, whispered of in werewolf lore, where a dying wolf may pass their spirit—and their wolf essence—into a chosen human host. This rare ceremony, performed under the full moon’s watchful eye, takes place upon an obsidian altar, a relic of the old world said to hold the echoes of past Alphas.’

I kept reading, drawn in by the mystery.

‘As the werewolf’s life fades, their essence is drawn into the dark stone, the obsidian pulsing with lunar energy. The chosen human must place their hands upon the altar, accepting the gift—or the curse. If the spirit deems them worthy, silver and midnight energy surge through their veins, rewriting their very being. Their body burns, their soul fractures and reshapes, and when the ritual is complete, they rise no longer human, but reborn as wolves.’

The words felt heavy, charged with the weight of something far beyond ordinary magic.

‘However, the ritual is not without risk. If the human’s will is too weak, or the dying wolf’s soul is too fractured, the transfer fails—leaving behind nothing but silence and ash.’

I closed the book, my mind racing. This was beyond anything I had imagined.

Flipping through the same section, another entry caught my eye—Alpha Werewolves and Human Mates.

‘Among werewolf lore, the bond between an Alpha and their mate is considered sacred, a connection written in fate itself. While most Alphas are destined for strong werewolf partners, history has recorded rare instances where an Alpha has found their fated mate in a human.’

I stiffened. This was it.

‘Such pairings are both extraordinary and controversial. A human lacks the instincts, strength, and resilience of a wolf, yet the bond, once formed, is unbreakable. The human often experiences heightened senses, an unexplainable pull toward their mate, and, in some cases, even dreams or visions of their wolf’s presence.’

I read on, my pulse quickening.

‘Legends speak of these rare unions producing remarkable offspring—wolves with untamed power and a touch of something more, something neither fully wolf nor human. Others tell of humans undergoing the Lunar Bequeathal, forever changing their fate. Though uncommon, these bonds prove that the call of the mate knows no boundaries, not even the line between species.’

I exhaled, setting the book down. This confirmed it. It wasn’t impossible. It was just… rare.

But nowhere in these pages did it explain why my mate—my Luna—was a man.

Shadow and I scoured more books, pouring over texts about bonds, sacred rituals, and mate lore. But no answers came. We found everything except what I needed most. Hours passed, frustration mounting with every unreadable script and dead-end passage.

Eventually, I sighed and shut the last book. "We’re not going to find it."

Shadow leaned against the shelf beside me. "Even if we go through every single book here, it might not even be written down."

I nodded. "Then I’ll make my own answers."

By the time we emerged from the church, the afternoon sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in shades of amber. We wasted no time shifting into our wolves and heading home before nightfall—before rogue wolves could track us.

The moment we arrived, my phone buzzed. A text from Ruby.

I replied quickly, then lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

If the books can’t tell me why… then I’ll just have to find out myself.

~End of Flashback~

A car pulled up in front of me, and without hesitation, I got in. As soon as I shut the door, I was met with Shadow’s grinning face.

I frowned. What’s he so smug about?

"What’s with you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Nothing. What’s with you?" he shot back, his grin widening.

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

Shadow chuckled. "I can smell the happy hormones," he teased, bursting into laughter.

"Mind your own business," I muttered, rolling my eyes. But despite myself, I couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at my lips. Just thinking about Ruby...

Shadow smirked. "I caught that scent yesterday—when we were spying on him."

I stiffened slightly. Right. Yesterday, Shadow and Jayla had insisted on following me to Ruby’s house. Those two were nosy as hell and couldn’t stand not knowing who he was. So, against my better judgment, I led them there. From a safe distance, we watched him.

Thinking back, I was almost certain Ruby had sensed us earlier. The way he’d glanced around, shoulders tight, eyes flicking over the crowd—it was the look of someone who knew they were being watched. Uneasy, guarded. Which… to be fair, he hadn’t been wrong.

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over my face. “So what exactly are you saying?” I asked, though my voice came out flatter than I intended. Playing dumb was easier than admitting anything outright.

Shadow leaned back against the driver’s seat, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other tapping against the leather in some rhythm only he understood. That damned smirk of his curved at the edges, sharp and amused.

“Oh, nothing,” he drawled, voice dripping with mischief. His eyes flicked toward me for just a second, catching the tension in my jaw. “Depends on how you see it.”

I shot him a glare that could’ve peeled paint, but it only made him chuckle, low and knowing.

“All I know is…” He let the words drag, deliberately slow. “You look real happy these days. Wonder what’s causing that.”

Heat prickled at the back of my neck, and I looked away toward the dark blur of the city sliding past the window. “Whatever,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Just drive. I want to go home and rest.”

Shadow snorted like he didn’t believe a single word. His grin was still plastered across his face, smug and relentless, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

I shifted in the seat, stretching out, trying to make myself comfortable as the hum of the engine filled the silence. The night outside was calm, neon lights reflected in the glass, but inside the car, it was like Shadow’s unspoken thoughts lingered in the air, pressing on me.

Let him think whatever he wants.

Because the truth?

I was happy. Happier than I’d been in a long time.

And deep down, I already knew exactly why.