Chapter 146 The March to Silvermoon
Kael POV
Dawn broke cold and unforgiving as I watched Lira say goodbye to our daughter.
She held Zara against her chest, whispering promises I couldn't hear from the doorway. Aria stood nearby, hands clasped, tears streaming down her face. "I'll protect her with my life," Aria said when Lira finally, reluctantly, handed Zara over. "I swear it on the Moon Goddess herself."
Lira's hands trembled as she pulled away. "She likes to be rocked when she cries and she needs"
"I know." Aria adjusted Zara in her arms. "We've been through this three times already. I know everything."
"Right." Lira's voice cracked. She pressed one more kiss to Zara's forehead. "Be good for Auntie Aria, little moon."
Silver light flickered across Zara's skin, like she understood. Like she was saying goodbye too.
I moved forward, wrapped my arm around Lira's shoulders, and guided her toward the door. If we stayed any longer, she'd never leave. "She'll be safe," I murmured against her temple.
Lira nodded but didn't speak. Couldn't, probably.
The courtyard buzzed with organized chaos, hundreds of warriors assembled in formation—our best fighters, coalition volunteers, and wolves who'd proven their loyalty through blood. Thomas barked orders, checking weapons and supplies. Nicolas stood apart, studying maps one final time.
Ryn who finally was back from his desert journey after months approached, his expression grim but determined. "Ready when you are, Alpha."
"Good." I clasped his shoulder. "You're on point with Thomas. I want scouts rotating every hour."
"Understood."
Lira emerged from the packhouse, her face a careful mask of composure. But I felt her anguish through the bond—sharp, stabbing, relentless.
The warriors fell silent as she approached. "We march to Silvermoon," she announced, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "Not for conquest. Not for revenge. But to end a threat that would destroy everything we've built. Elias Thornfield stole my birthright, corrupted my mother's legacy, and now threatens our children. That ends today."
A howl rose from the assembled wolves. Others joined—a chorus of support, of fury, of determination. Lira's eyes blazed. "We fight as one. We protect each other. And we come home victorious."
"For Darkfang!" Thomas roared.
"For Darkfang!" The response shook the walls.
We moved out in tight formation, leaving a skeleton guard to protect the packhouse and Zara. Every step away from our daughter felt wrong, but necessary.
The first hours passed in tense silence. We covered ground quickly, using back routes Nicolas had mapped. The landscape shifted from familiar Darkfang territory to neutral borderlands—rocky, sparse, unwelcoming.
"Contact ahead," a scout reported, dropping from the trees. "Small group. Maybe fifteen fighters."
"Elias's forward scouts?" Thomas asked.
Nicolas shook his head. "Mercenaries testing our strength. He'll have them positioned along the route."
I glanced at Lira. "How do you want to handle it?"
She didn't hesitate. "We go through them. Fast and brutal. Send a message that we're not here to negotiate."
The skirmish lasted minutes. Our forces hit hard, overwhelming the mercenaries before they could organize a defense. I took down three myself—quick, efficient kills. No mercy, no hesitation.
Lira moved like lightning, her power incinerating two attackers who got too close. The rest scattered, fleeing back toward Silvermoon. "Let them run," Lira commanded when some of our wolves moved to pursue. "Let them tell Elias we're coming."
We pressed forward. The encounters increased—small groups, guerrilla tactics, hit-and-run attacks designed to wear us down. Each time, we crushed them. Each time, Lira's power grew more controlled, more devastating.
By midday, we crossed into what had once been Silvermoon territory proper.
Lira stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her chest.
"What is it?" I was at her side instantly.
"I can feel it." Her voice went distant. "The corruption. It's in the land itself."
I looked around. The trees were twisted, bark blackened. The ground seemed wrong somehow—too dry, too dead. Even the air tasted bitter.
"Dark magic," Nicolas confirmed. "Elias has been draining power from the territory to strengthen himself. It's killing Silvermoon from the inside out."
Lira's hands clenched. "This was my mother's land. Beautiful, thriving. He's destroying it."
She knelt, pressing her palms to the earth, light light pulsed outward, spreading like roots through the corrupted soil.
The blackened ground beneath her hands began to shift, green shoots pushing through. "Lira, conserve your strength," I warned. "We'll need it for the battle ahead."
"This can't wait." Sweat beaded her forehead as she pushed more power into the land. "If I don't purify it now, there won't be anything left to save."
For ten minutes, she worked, her magic spreading in slow waves across the immediate area. When she finally stood, the difference was visible—a circle of restored earth, grass growing, trees straightening.
"That's what Silvermoon should be," she said softly. "That's what I'm fighting for."
We continued deeper into enemy territory. Nicolas led us through hidden passages, old wolf trails that Elias wouldn't expect.
"Your mother used to run these paths," he told Lira as we navigated a narrow ravine. "She knew every stone, every tree. Said the land spoke to her."
"Does it speak to you?" Lira asked.
"It's trying." He touched a gnarled tree as we passed. "But it's hurt, scared. Twenty years of corruption has made it forget what peace feels like."
We emerged into a clearing, and Lira stopped so suddenly I nearly collided with her. "What" Then I saw it.
A small grave marker, weathered and overgrown. The name carved into the stone was barely legible: Vera Ashborne, Luna of Silvermoon.
Lira's knees buckled. I caught her, but she pulled away, moving toward the grave like a sleepwalker. "They buried her here?" Her voice broke. "Alone, forgotten, unmarked except for this?"
Nicolas's expression darkened. "After the massacre, there was no one left to give her proper rites. I tried to find her body, but by the time I got here, someone had already buried her. I've kept the site clear over the years, but."
"She deserved a pyre." Lira knelt beside the grave, her fingers tracing the worn letters. "She deserved songs and ceremonies and the whole pack honoring her sacrifice."
Tears tracked down her face. I wanted to comfort her, but this grief was too personal, too raw. "I'm sorry, Mama," Lira whispered. "I'm sorry I never knew you. I'm sorry they stole everything from us. But I promise—I promise I'll make this right."
Silver light gathered in her palms. She pressed them to the earth above her mother's grave, and power flooded out—not destructive, but healing, blessing.
Flowers bloomed where her hands touched. Real flowers, vibrant and alive, pushing through the corrupted soil. "That's better," she murmured. "Now you have beauty, at least."
When she stood, her expression had hardened into something terrifying. "Elias did this. He let my mother rot in an unmarked grave while he lived in her home, ruled her people, pretended he had any right to the Silvermoon name."
"Lira" I started.
"I'm going to destroy him." Her eyes blazed. "Not just defeat him. Destroy everything he's built on my family's ashes."
A howl split the air—close, too close. "Ambush!" Thomas roared.
They came from all sides—at least fifty fighters, emerging from the corrupted forest like shadows. Elias's main forces, lying in wait.
"Defensive formation!" I commanded, shifting mid-stride.
The pack responded instantly, creating a protective circle around Lira. But she didn't need protection, fire exploded from her hands, a wall of silver flame that stopped the first wave cold. Attackers screamed as the purifying fire consumed corrupted magic, leaving them powerless.
I tore through enemies, Fenris's battle rage singing in my blood. Beside me, Thomas fought with brutal efficiency. Ryn guarded Lira's flank, his loyalty absolute.
But there were too many. "Fall back to the ravine!" Nicolas shouted. "Use the terrain!"
We fought our way backward, every step contested. I took a blade across my ribs—shallow, but it burned only to find out it was Silver-edged.
Lira saw, and her fury doubled. The fire intensified, becoming almost too bright to look at. "Enough!" Her voice rang with ancient power. "This is Ashborne land, and you will KNEEL!"
The command hit like a physical force. Several attackers actually dropped to their knees, unable to resist the alpha authority in her voice. The rest hesitated, and that hesitation cost them.
Our forces surged forward, breaking through the ambush. Bodies fell—theirs, thankfully, not ours. The survivors scattered, fleeing back toward Elias's stronghold.
When the fighting ended, we took stock. Twelve wounded, two seriously. No deaths.
"Tend the injured," Lira ordered. "We camp here tonight. Tomorrow, we finish this."
As our healers worked, I found Lira standing at the edge of camp, staring toward Silvermoon's distant packhouse. "Tomorrow," she said without looking at me, "I'm going to walk into my mother's home, the home Elias stole."
I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "And you'll take it back."
"Yes." She leaned into me. "But Kael, when we get there—when I face him—I need you to let me handle it. Alone."
Everything in me rebelled. "Absolutely not."
"This is my fight." She turned in my arms. "My birthright, my mother's legacy. I have to be the one to reclaim it."
"And if he kills you?"
"He won't." Her certainty was absolute. "Because I'm fighting for something he never understood. Not power. Not territory. Family. Love. That's stronger than any dark magic he's stolen."
I studied her face—the determination, the strength, the woman she'd become.
"Promise me something," I finally said.
"What?"
"Promise you'll come back to me. To Zara. No heroic sacrifices, no last stands. You fight, you win, and you come home."
She rose on her toes, kissing me softly. "I promise." That night, as the camp settled into uneasy sleep, I held Lira close.