Chapter 139
Still Ellaine point of View:
I barreled forward, crashing through the melee. One rogue lunged at me, jaws snapping for my throat, but I slammed into it midair, my claws shredding deep into its neck before my fangs crushed its windpipe.
I didn’t slow–didn’t even glance down as its body twitched and stilled beneath me.
Warriors saw me, their eyes going wide.
“The Luna!” someone shouted before vanishing into the fray again.
My presence sent a ripple through the battlefield–hope and fury flaring like wildfire.
The cave swallowed me in its stench and darkness.
The walls were slick with something that shimmered faintly green–blood mixed with magic. Shapes moved in the shadows, claws scraping
stone.
I caught glimpses of Francesco–his Lycan form towering, fur matted with gore, eyes glowing like molten gold. He was surrounded, his massive claws raking through enemies, but for every one he felled, two more took its place.
Behind him, deeper in the cave, stood the true threat.
A blackened book, floating inches above the ground, pages turning on their own.
Shadows coiled from it like smoke, wrapping around the figure of Marsen–the last of the enemy’s dark mages–draining him. His skin had gone gray, his eyes sinking into his skull as his essence was pulled from him, pouring into the pages.
And within the smoke… a face.
I froze for half a second, my heart stuttering. Luca. His eyes were open, his expression twisted into something both familiar and monstrous.
He was inside the book, clawing his way back into the world one stolen breath at a time.
Francesco didn’t see it–his focus locked on keeping the tide of creatures at bay.
That was when the book’s shadows began to spread, reaching toward him.
A snarl ripped from my throat, echoing off the walls. The sound made Francesco’s head snap toward me, shock flickering in his eyes even in the middle of war.
“Ellaine-?” his voice was a rough rasp in my mind–link, disbelieving.
I didn’t answer.
I launched myself over the front line, paws striking stone, claws sparking against it as I tore into the enemies closest to him.
My white coat was soon splattered with crimson, but I didn’t care. Every kill brought me closer to him–and closer to that cursed book.
The magic lashed out at me as I neared, cold tendrils wrapping around my legs, trying to drag me down. I snarled, light flaring from deep within me—the charm’s power thrumming through my veins like a living thing. The shadows recoiled, hissing, but I could feel the book’s hunger shift toward me.
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Luca’s voice slithered into my head.
‘Ah… little sister of the moon. Come closer.‘
The shadows surged again–faster, stronger, Francesco roared, trying to push toward me, but the rogues swarmed him, claws raking his shoulders and sides.
I dug in, holding the charm’s power steady, letting it burn through the darkness inch by inch. But it was like holding back a tide with my bare hands.
The air grew heavier, the cave vibrating with a low, unnatural hum.
And then–Light.
Blinding, pure white light burst into the cave, flooding every shadow, forcing the darkness back.
Gasps echoed from every warrior present as their eyes turned toward the source.
Me… The white wolf, their Luna, standing at the mouth of the deepest tunnel, fur blazing with silver fire, eyes locked on the heart of the corruption.
Francesco froze mid–strike, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on me with something raw and unguarded.
“Ellaine…” he breathed.
The shadows hissed louder, the book’s pages whipping faster.
Luca’s face twisted in rage-
No.
I lowered my head, growl rumbling deep, ready to strike-
And the cave went completely black.
The wind tore against my skin as I fell.
The stones of the high tower blurred behind me, the gasps of my people muffled beneath the rush of air in my ears.
For a heartbeat, there was only the void and my own pounding pulse.
Then–impact.
My paws struck the earth with a bone–shaking thud, claws digging deep into the frozen soil. The force rippled through the ground, scattering loose snow and dust like a shockwave. My white coat blazed under the pale moonlight, each strand catching the glow as if made of silver fire,
The scent of blood–thick, metallic, wrong–filled my lungs. The battle was still raging far beyond the gates.
No magic thrummed in me anymore. That part of me had gone quiet, perhaps forever. But Mika was here. Stronger than ever. My wolf–my true self–stood whole again, her strength not from spells or charms, but from the raw, unbreakable will that came from surviving every
wound, every rejection, every scar life had given me.
And right now, my fated mate was out there.
Fighting.
Bleeding.
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Chapter 139
Facing a monster that should never have drawn breath again.
I broke into a sprint, the ground shuddering under each stride. Every scent sharpened–the copper tang of spilled blood, the acrid bite of scorched earth, the dark rot of corrupted magic. And then, cutting through it all, his scent. Francesco.
It was like breathing again after being held under water–warm, grounding, dangerous in its pull. My mate. My Alpha. My King.
The gates were wide open, smashed inward from the earlier charge. Bodies littered the field—some human, some wolf, some reduced to little more than unrecognizable remains. The rogues were unlike any I had seen before; their eyes were glazed black, movements jerky, skin marred with crawling veins of dark magic. Marsen’s essence. Luca’s poison.
Francesco’s Lycan form towered over them all. Massive, rippling muscle beneath dark fur, claws like onyx scythes. His roars shook the air, each one a promise of death. He fought like a storm–relentless, devastating. But even storms can be overwhelmed. The enemy pressed closer, dozens of them drawn to him as if pulled by an invisible string.
And at the heart of it–Luca.
Or rather… what remained of him.
His body flickered, like a reflection on black water. His form was only half–flesh; the rest writhed with smoky tendrils, threads of shadow lashing out to pull in more victims.
The book—an ancient, jagged–bound thing–hovered unnaturally near him, its pages flipping on their own, the ink bleeding like fresh
wounds.
I didn’t need Anastasia magic power to tell me. I could feel it.
The book wasn’t just a vessel–it was feeding. Each soul, each drop of Marsen’s essence, each life stolen by Luca’s will was being swallowed whole, page by page.
And if we didn’t stop it now, Luca would return. Fully. Permanently.
1 charged into the fray, Mika’s power roaring in my veins. My howl split the night–pure, sharp, commanding. It wasn’t just a sound; it was a call, a rallying cry that cut through the haze of fear and pain gripping my warriors. Heads turned toward me, their eyes clearing, their spines straightening. They remembered who they fought for.
I slammed into the nearest rogue, my jaws crushing down on its neck with a wet crack. Warmth gushed over my tongue–sickly, tainted blood -and I ripped away before it could seep too deep into me. Another came from my left; I spun low, claws flashing, and its belly opened under my strike, spilling blackened innards onto the dirt.
Francesco’s voice tore through the chaos, deep and resonant even in his beast form.
“Ellaine!”
Our eyes locked across the carnage. The bond between us flared–sharp and bright as lightning. For a moment, everything else blurred. He didn’t need to speak for me to know what he wanted.
We would end this. Together.
I leapt over the torn bodies, closing the distance between us. He swung his massive arm, clearing a path, and when I landed beside him, his presence wrapped around me like armor. We moved in unison–two halves of one force.
But Luca wasn’t idle. His voice slithered over the battlefield, smooth and venomous.
“Ah… the little Luna joins the fight. How… quaint.”
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Chapter 139
His smile was wrong, too wide, too knowing.
“You think claws and teeth will stop me? You think love will stop me?” He laughed, and the sound scraped like broken glass.
The book shuddered in the air, pages whipping. I felt the pull–a hungry, gnawing force clawing at my mind, whispering for me to join it. For a moment, my vision dimmed, the world narrowing to ink and shadow.
No…
I planted my paws and pushed back, Mika snarling in defiance. A pure surge of white light rippled from my chest, snapping the haze like brittle glass. Francesco’s growl deepened beside me, his massive claws tearing through the tendrils reaching for us.
We drove forward.
Each step closer to Luca was harder–the air thickened, the ground slick with corrupted blood. My muscles burned, lungs seared, but we didn’t stop. We tore through rogue after rogue, their bodies falling like wheat before the scythe.
Still, Luca’s strength grew.
The book’s pull intensified.
Francesco’s massive hand closed around my shoulder–steadying, anchoring. His golden eyes burned into mine. Now.
We launched as one. He went high, crashing into Luca’s half–flesh body, driving him back with sheer brute force. I went low, jaws snapping onto the book’s edge. Pain flared instantly–a thousand icy needles stabbing into my skull–but I held on, dragging it away from Luca’s reach.
It screamed. Not Luca–the book. The sound was in my bones, in my teeth, vibrating through every nerve. I tasted blood–my own, hot and coppery–trickling from my nose.
“Ellaine!” Francesco’s roar was desperate.
I couldn’t answer. My vision swam. The pull was too strong. The book’s darkness licked at me, probing for a way in.
And then-
Warmth.
Not physical. Deeper. The bond between us flared again, but stronger this time. Francesco’s will wrapped around mine like steel bands, lending me his strength. Not forcing. Not controlling. With me.
I planted my claws, shoved back against the book’s hunger with everything I had. Mika roared within me, and this time, it wasn’t just sound- it was light. White fire burst from my form, flooding the ground, searing through the shadows. The rogues nearest to us howled in agony, their twisted bodies unraveling into smoke.
Luca’s face twisted, fury overtaking his smirk.
“No–NO! You can’t-”
Francesco’s claws drove into his chest, and with a violent wrench, he ripped the half–flesh body apart. The black smoke tried to escape, but l snapped my jaws around the book and slammed it shut. The lock clicked–audible, final.
The ground shuddered. The air split with a deafening crack. Every remaining rogue froze–then collapsed, lifeless.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Just the sound of my ragged breathing and the distant hiss of fading magic.
Then-
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The book twitched.
A single thread of black seeped from the seam, curling in the air like a lazy serpent. My fur bristled.
“Francesco…” My voice was a growl.
His golden eyes were still locked on me, but there was something in them now–worry. He took a step toward me, but the ground beneath my paws split open.
The thread lunged–not for him. For me.
Light burst in my vision–too bright to be moonlight–and a voice, deep and cold, whispered in my ear.
“Luna Ellaine… your story isn’t over.”
The last thing I saw before the world went white was Francesco’s massive form lunging toward me, his roar ripping through the battlefield.
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