Chapter 8: The Rogue Alpha’s Warning
598 Words
The flames had barely faded when the scent of more rogues filled the night.
Ayla turned to Corvin, her hands still hot from the blast. “More are coming.”
He nodded grimly. “That one was only the first. A scout. Someone knows you’ve awakened.”
They raced through the forest, shadows chasing them like ghosts. When they reached the stone ridge above the training glen, Corvin raised a protective ward—an invisible shield woven from light and air.
Ayla paced restlessly. Her power surged under her skin, wild and eager.
“Let them come,” she said, fists clenched. “I’m not afraid.”
“That’s what worries me,” Corvin replied. “Your fire is strong, but you’re not invincible yet. Power attracts attention—some of it deadly.”
A rustle broke the silence.
A figure stepped out from the tree line.
He wasn’t like the others.
Taller. Unscarred. Eyes glowing faint red. His aura was calm, calculated—and far more dangerous.
Corvin stiffened. “Alpha Lioran.”
Ayla’s flames snapped to life. “You know him?”
“Rogue by title. But once, he led the Firefang Pack—until the council exiled him for forbidden magic. He’s no feral beast, Ayla. He’s worse.”
Lioran raised his hands. “I come without claws. I have no fight with you, Luna.”
Ayla narrowed her eyes. “Then why send your scouts?”
“I sent them to see if the rumors were true,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “The Crimson Luna reborn? The power of prophecy awakened in a girl once rejected by her mate?” He smiled. “And it seems they were.”
“What do you want?”
“To offer a warning,” he said, stepping closer. “Your rise will trigger war. The Alphas of the Eastern Territories will not let a girl with power to rival legends go unchecked. Especially not when she’s unclaimed, unbound, and unpredictable.”
Ayla’s fire flickered brighter. “Let them come.”
Lioran chuckled. “Bravery looks good on you. But it won’t save you. You need allies. Not just this old warlock.” He nodded toward Corvin.
Corvin bristled.
Lioran continued. “I can give you access to the archives of the exiled packs. Knowledge long buried. Weapons your ancestors forged. Even truths about your bloodline that Corvin might not know.”
“I don’t trust rogues,” Ayla said coldly.
“You shouldn’t,” Lioran said. “But trust this—you are not ready for what’s coming. When the Moon Clans hear of your awakening, they’ll either crown you… or kill you.”
He tossed something at her feet—a silver crest, engraved with the mark of the Eastern Alpha Council. Blood stained its edges.
“Your old mate is already moving against you. He’s not the same wolf you remember. He’s been promised power if he brings your heart to the Council.”
Ayla’s breath caught.
Kael.
“I’ll be waiting, Crimson Luna,” Lioran said. “When your fire falters, and your pack turns, remember this night.”
Then he vanished, his scent dissolving into mist.
Corvin stepped forward. “He’s playing a dangerous game.”
“So am I,” Ayla said, picking up the bloodstained crest. “And I don’t lose.”
Her flame glowed hotter than ever.
Not for rage.
But for what came next.
She would not run. She would rise—and if the Council wanted war, she would give them a queen of fire.
- Writer
