Chapter 66 His Blood Will Stain The Earth

Chapter 66 His Blood Will Stain The Earth
KING THEORON'S POV

“Prepare. We will get my daughter from the Thunder Howl pack,” I commanded.

My voice rumbled through the chamber, and every warrior stood straighter, every seer bowed their head deeper. Kalel, my ever-loyal Beta, and General stood at my side, his eyes calm but sharpened with anticipation. He needed no words from me to understand the gravity of this moment. My daughter, my little moonlight, had finally been found.

I could still feel her. That faint, silvery bond tugged at my chest like moonlight weaving itself into my soul. Stronger now than it had ever been. 

My pacing had ended the moment the sensation returned. She was here, and no wall, no Alpha, no force in this land would keep me from her again.

When we arrived at the Thunder Howl pack’s territory, I paused to study it.

They had built walls of protection, thick, disciplined, etched with effort. 

I almost smiled. Clever, for ordinary wolves. But to me, to my warriors, they were nothing more than painted barriers. I could have torn them down with a whisper of my power if I wished. Still, I gave silent credit to their Alpha, Apollo Astor. He guarded his land well against rogues, though his walls would never stand against me.

I raised a hand to destroy the protection wall, and we pressed forward into their lands, and I took in the sight. Vast stretches of forestry wrapped their homes like a crown. Massive estates, stone and timber, rose from the heart of their territory, grand but not ostentatious. The Thunder Howl had built something sturdy, something they believed would last.

Yet all of it meant little compared to what I felt. The pulse of my daughter’s presence slammed into me with such force that I had to steady my breath. My little moonlight. The bond was no longer faint; it was alive, burning, pulling me straight to her. She was here. 

Here, after all these years. I clenched my hands at my sides to still the ache in my chest. I wanted to run, to call her name into the wind, to hold her and never let go. But kings do not run, and this reunion would come at its proper time.

“Do not hide,” I ordered my people. My voice carried, sharp and absolute. 

“Stand tall. We will face whoever comes.”

They obeyed without hesitation, forming a strong, visible presence behind me. Soon enough, guards emerged. They stormed forward, suspicion blazing in their eyes.

“Who goes there?” one barked, his voice rough with authority.

But the moment they drew closer, their expressions faltered. I saw it at once, the shift, the confusion, the recognition they could not contain. My aura pressed against them, and they had no shield to resist it.

“The… Lycan King,” one whispered, disbelief twisting his voice.

"He was gone for a long time," another one said.

The other froze, then bowed suddenly, his knees hitting the earth, forehead bent low. “My King…”

The others followed, their hesitation crumbling into instinctive reverence. They shook where they knelt, torn between duty to their Alpha and the undeniable truth of my presence. They knew who I was. All wolves did, whether they had seen me before or not.

“I want to see Alpha Apollo,” I said, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

They hesitated, exchanging nervous glances, their fear thick in the air. But eventually they moved, and one of them spoke. "Yes, my King, we will tell the Alpha that you are here."

After a little while, the guards returned, but not with the man I had expected. The figure who approached was tall, yes, but something told me this was not Apollo Astor.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice sharp enough to cut through the still air.

The tall man bowed his head with practiced respect before straightening his posture. He was slightly shorter than the Alphas I had faced before, though still well above average height. Sandy-blonde hair fell in loose, practical strands over his forehead, and hazel eyes regarded me with a spark of quiet mischief that did not belong in the face of someone standing before a king. 

His frame was lean but undeniably strong, muscles toned from years of service. His clothing was rugged and plain, made for movement rather than appearance, but there was a steadiness about him, a Beta’s confidence, loyal and unyielding.

“I am Orion, Alpha Apollo’s Beta,” he said evenly.

I studied him for a long moment, letting silence stretch until I saw the faintest shift in his stance. He did not flinch, though; I gave him that.

“I would like to speak with your Alpha,” I said firmly.

His gaze flickered, and then his answer came steady, though I could hear the weight beneath it. “He can’t. Alpha Apollo is in bed. He was poisoned by his cousin, Jupiter.”

“Poison?” My voice dropped low, curling like a threat. “How come?” I asked, though inwardly I knew well enough. Still, I feigned ignorance, watching carefully for what Orion would reveal.

“They had a duel,” he explained, his words quick but controlled. “Alpha Apollo won, but we didn’t know he was poisoned until later. He collapsed after the fight, and now our healer is working to create an antidote for wolfsbane.”

Wolfsbane. The word slithered through my mind, unwelcome and venomous. Few poisons were more cruel to a wolf than that cursed plant.

“Hmmm…” I purred, my tone slow, deliberate. “Could it be the way of the Moon Goddess to punish him for stealing my child?” My eyes narrowed on him. “I know my daughter is here. I want to see my little moonlight.”

For the first time, his composure cracked. A flicker of panic crossed his 

eyes, quickly masked by his determination. He took a step forward, his voice carrying urgency.

“My King, it’s not what you think it is. My Alpha Apollo did not steal your daughter from you. Reika came from the Shadow Claw pack. It was Alpha Martin who stole her from you.”

At that name, Alpha Martin, my vision darkened. The air around me seemed to thicken, shadows bending to the weight of my fury. That traitor’s name was poison itself. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Memories surged, whispers of betrayal, blood spilled in silence, the day my daughter was torn from me.

"Martin," The cursed name that had haunted me for years.

Orion did not falter, though I saw the way his muscles tightened, ready for whatever storm I might unleash. His hazel eyes were steady, pleading for me to listen, but they did not cower. That only stoked my rage further, though I kept it chained, for now.

If Apollo was not the thief, then why was my daughter here, in his care? And if Martin truly had a hand in this, then his blood would stain the earth before the next moonrise.