Bound By Moonfire

Chapter Thirteen – Ashes in Ashveil

Chapter Thirteen – Ashes in Ashveil

---

Kael POV

Ashveil’s stronghold loomed in shadows.

The ride back had been a blur—his pack tight at his heels, the weight of every choice pressing like iron on his shoulders. He had faced battles that scarred his skin, but none that carved as deep as the look in Lyra’s eyes when the truth shattered between them.

He told himself it was fate. That he could not deny the bond of his returned mate. That Moonglade would survive without his chains. But his wolf… his wolf had not forgiven him.

The great hall was alive with voices when he entered. Torches threw his scars into stark relief as his warriors bowed their heads. But not in loyalty— in unease. Whispers tangled in the rafters.

“She fought beside him.”

“He sent her away.”

“Is this betrayal, or weakness?”

Kael’s jaw clenched. He strode past them, every step deliberate, his storm-gray eyes daring any to speak louder. None did.

At the head of the hall, she waited.

Elara.

His true mate. The one fate had hidden, only to return when the bond with Lyra had already been forged in fire. Her eyes, pale as moonstone, met his with a softness that twisted like a blade. She smiled faintly. “You chose me, as the moon decreed.”

His wolf did not stir.

“Did I?” he muttered under his breath.

Before the moment could stretch, the doors slammed open.

A scout stumbled inside, blood slicking his arm. “Alpha—Bloodfangs!” His voice cracked with urgency. “They move in force—here, on Ashveil’s lands. Hundreds.”

The hall erupted. Shouts, snarls, warriors reaching for weapons. Kael’s wolf surged to the surface, rage sweeping away doubt. Battle—this, at least, he understood.

“How many leagues?” he snapped.

“Less than two,” the scout gasped. “They mean to strike before moonrise.”

Kael turned, cloak flaring as he barked orders. “Form the line at the southern ridge. Signal the outer watch. Every wolf to arms!”

Warriors surged into motion. Yet beneath the chaos, whispers slithered.

“They come now, so soon after the Moonglade betrothal broke…”

“Did fate curse us?”

“Or did the Alpha’s heart weaken the bond that kept us strong?”

Kael ignored them, but every word clawed at his chest. He could not falter now. Not when blood would spill.

He turned to Elara. “Stay within the stronghold. Guard the heart of the pack.”

She reached for him, fingers brushing his scarred hand. “Fight for us, Kael.”

His wolf recoiled at the touch, but he said nothing. He tore away, striding into the night.

---

The southern ridge stretched dark against the horizon. Already the scent of blood and rot tainted the wind. His wolves lined the crest, growls low, eyes glowing. The earth trembled with the approach of the enemy.

And then he saw them.

Bloodfangs—dozens, no, hundreds—pouring across the valley like a tide of black and red. Their howls split the night, a sound of madness and hunger.

Kael drew his blade, silver catching the moonlight. His wolf surged, roaring inside his chest.

“This is Ashveil!” His voice thundered across the line. “We do not break. We do not bend. Tonight, we make the earth remember our name!”

A chorus of howls answered him, fierce and unyielding.

And then the Bloodfang tide crashed against them.

Steel and claw met. The ridge shook with the fury of wolves at war. Kael was in the heart of it, his blade carving arcs of death, his wolf’s strength flooding every strike. Blood splashed hot, the air thick with snarls.

But even as he fought, one thought burned relentless:

Lyra should be here.

Her wolf at his side, their breaths in sync, their blades and claws moving as one. The bond that had made them unstoppable.

His jaw clenched, fury boiling. He struck harder, faster, cutting through foe after foe. But the emptiness at his side only grew.

And deep in his chest, his wolf whispered the truth he refused to name:

You chose wrong.

---