Chapter 52: Bloodshed
Children screamed, their cries sharp and piercing, and the Lunas moved with fierce urgency, gathering them up and whisking them to safety. Protective instincts flared in every Luna, their bodies tense and ready, eyes darting to every corner for threats. The air was thick with panic, the metallic tang of fear mixing with the coppery scent of blood.
Tables overturned as combatants clashed, splintered wood and shattered glass littering the floor. Every movement carried weight—the snap of claws, the thud of heavy bodies, the frantic shuffle of those desperate to protect the innocent. Amid it all, a tense, electric energy hummed in the air, a reminder that nothing in the room would remain untouched by this storm of violence.
Zach's jaws clamped around Darius's throat, teeth sinking with unforgiving force. The Ember Council warrior thrashed violently, but Zach's strength was unstoppable, relentless, like a force of nature. With a savage shake, he slammed Darius to the ground. Lifeless. Blood spilled across the polished floor, dark and glistening, as the room fell into stunned silence. Even the flickering lanterns seemed to pause, casting long, trembling shadows over the aftermath of his fury.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the grand hall, the sound bouncing off the polished walls like a wave of shock. The Ember Council froze, each member exchanging wary glances, their carefully maintained composure faltering.
"Enough!" Malrik's voice thundered, reverberating through the room. His eyes blazed with fury and authority. "We came only for Amber! Where is she!?"
Before anyone could respond, Zach's telepathic growl slashed through their minds, sharp and jagged. You ordered her death. Don't deny it.
A tense silence followed, thick and suffocating, broken only by the distant creak of lanterns swaying from the tremor of Zach's presence. The council members' breathing grew shallow, their confident façade cracking under the weight of his mental assault.
Malrik's eyes narrowed, a flicker of fear mixed with disbelief crossing his face. Realization hit like a hammer. "How do you... know?" His voice was tight, almost unsteady. "So... you can read us?"
Zach's growl rumbled again, vibrating with raw power. Every word carried both warning and promise: I see everything. I feel everything. Cross me, and you'll regret it.
The hall seemed to shrink under his presence. Shadows stretched and twisted along the walls, as if even the lantern light feared to shine fully in his domain. The Ember Council, masters of strategy and secrecy, were suddenly reduced to exposed prey under the gaze of the Alpha who had nothing left to lose.
Lady Serapha's eyes lit with fascination. "The Alpha who reads minds. Such a gift! Imagine what we could accomplish together." She clapped her hands, delighted even amidst the carnage.
"Shut your mouth, Serapha," Malrik snapped.
But her hunger only deepened, eyes glinting with dark intent. "Zachary... join us," she hissed, each word dripping with temptation. "Think of what you and Amber could—"
"You will never touch her," Zach snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the hall. His muscles tensed, fur bristling, eyes blazing with unyielding fury.
The clash erupted again with unstoppable force. Eldric lunged like a panther, claws slashing and teeth bared, aiming for any opening he could find. Malrik shifted swiftly, his movements precise, calculated—each strike meant to destabilize the Southern pack. Lady Serapha's claws tore through any wolf foolish enough to bar her way, a whirlwind of lethal grace, cutting and slashing with ruthless efficiency.
The hall became a storm of blood and fury. Lanterns flickered violently, shadows dancing across walls slick with crimson. Wolves growled, howled, and collided in a deadly symphony of teeth and claws. The Southern Alphas rallied, forming a solid wall of muscle and determination, standing shoulder to shoulder against the onslaught of the Ember Council. Each swing, each strike, was met with equal force—an unbroken chain of resistance fueled by loyalty, love, and desperation.
Fangs tore through fur, claws shredded armor, and the sound of bones meeting strength echoed like thunder in the hall. Eldric vaulted through the air, slashing at two defenders at once, forcing them back with a violent sweep of his claws. Malrik's calculated strikes tried to anticipate every move of the Southern pack, but Zach's presence disrupted the rhythm—every attack met with unyielding defense, every maneuver countered with instinct sharpened by rage.
Lady Serapha moved like a shadow in motion, her eyes scanning for weaknesses, striking with lethal precision, yet every time she found one, a Southern Alpha stepped forward, teeth bared, muscles taut, to block her path. The clash of wills—the Council's cold precision against the raw fury and determination of the Southern pack—made the hall quake.
Malrik's composure finally cracked. His calculated strikes faltered as frustration coiled tightly around him, tightening like a vice. His eyes darted between the advancing Southern Alphas, the relentless fury in Zach, and the chaos consuming the hall. A sharp, strangled shout left his lips:
"Retreat!"
The command hung in the air like a surrender. Slowly, the Ember Council began to withdraw, their movements deliberate yet tinged with fury and disbelief. The hall, though scarred and bloody, now belonged to those who had refused to bend, those who had stood unwavering to protect Amber.
The Council pulled back, battered and bloodied, leaving the Southern wolves standing in defiance. Darius's lifeless body lay at their feet, and for the first time, fear flickered in the Council's eyes.
_____
The storm had finally passed, Temporarily, and once again, they had emerged victorious. The battle was over, the Ember Council forced to retreat, and the hall now lay in silence except for the ragged breaths and cautious movements of the surviving wolves.
Yet their celebration was incomplete. A hollow ache lingered in their hearts, for the Luna—their light, their anchor—was nowhere to be found. Triumph felt bitter, overshadowed by worry and fear. Even in victory, a shadow of dread hung over them, reminding everyone that the true battle was far from over.
Orion's eyes scanned the forest beyond the café, the trees whispering secrets in the night breeze. "She's out there... somewhere," he murmured, his voice tight with concern. Wolves shifted uneasily, ears twitching, tails stiff with tension. Every rustle, every snap of a branch seemed to echo their anxiety.
Zach stood at the edge of the clearing, gaze fixed on the darkness beyond. His heart pounded, a mix of relief for surviving the clash and desperation to find Amber. He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of responsibility heavier than ever. Victory meant nothing if she was lost.
The moon cast silver streaks over the scene, illuminating the chaos left behind and the path into the forest. It was a quiet, tense pause—a breath before the next storm, the next fight, the next desperate search for the one they could not afford to lose.