Chapter 7 The Mountain’s Call
Chapter 7 The Mountain’s Call
The first thing Aurora felt when she opened her eyes was the pulse.
Not her heartbeat; but the rhythm of the mountains far away. It is as steady and ancient , casting gloomy shadows over the Alpha Hall.
She sat up , her heart racing, palms tingling again.
She wore her cloak around her shoulders and stood up quietly, careful not to wake Jaxson. It was dawn already, the air cool with faint scents of pine and smoke from the previous night's fire.
She followed the pill down the corridor, through the halls , until she got to a wooden door carved with moon sigils.
This was the entrance to the seer’s chambers.
The old woman behind the door had been expecting her
“You couldn't sleep right?” The seer murmured, voice rough but you could feel the kindness in her words.
She sat down, her silver hair glistening.
“You've heard it,haven't you?”
“The mountain calling.” She added as she focused on what was in front of her.
Aurora hesitated before answering.
“ I thought it was a dream.”
Aurora hesitated. “I thought it was a dream.”
The seer gestured for her to come closer. “Dreams are how the blood remembers. Sit, child.”
Aurora obeyed, settling before the fire. The air inside the chamber thrummed softly with energy—her energy, she realized. The flames shifted as she exhaled, responding to her pulse.
“Tell me what you’ve seen,” the seer said.
So Aurora did—about Vivian’s lies, about the way her body knew the truth before her mind caught up, and about the strange vision that came in her sleep.
The seer listened in silence, eyes half-closed as if watching something unseen. When Aurora finished, the old woman traced a crescent in the air. “You are not merely Luna by blood or by mate bond. The gift you carry is rare—older than werewolves themselves.”
Aurora frowned. “Gift?”
“You hear emotions. You see truth. You feel the echoes of what has been done. These are not ordinary senses. They are the inheritance of the Fae.”
The word struck like thunder. “Fae?”
The seer nodded. “Long ago, before the first packs were formed, the Fae mingled with wolves of great power. Their bloodlines vanished—or so we believed. Until you.”
Aurora’s thoughts raced. “You’re saying I’m not… fully wolf?”
“You are more. But that power will test you, Luna. The Fae gift grants insight, but it also carries burden. The stronger your empathy grows, the more you’ll feel the emotions of others as your own. Joy, fear, lust, hatred—they will all bleed into you. Without discipline, you will drown in them.”
Aurora swallowed hard. “How do I control it?”
The seer’s gaze softened. “You must learn to anchor yourself—not in duty, but in truth. Your heart must be your center. Begin by listening without losing yourself.”
The seer extended her hand, palm up. “Take this.”
Aurora reached forward, and their hands touched. Instantly, a rush of energy coursed through her—a flood of sensations, voices, memories. She gasped as images flashed before her eyes: a child running through fields of silver flowers, a woman weeping under a full moon, a man’s face—stern, familiar—falling lifeless into darkness.
She tore her hand away, trembling. “That was—”
“The past,” the seer said quietly. “Your power touches what has been, not just what is.”
Aurora’s pulse hammered. She had seen her father’s death—the blurred outline of his chamber, the faint scent of medicine and metal. And behind it, a woman’s silhouette, graceful and cold.
Vivian.
\---
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Aurora tried to focus on her duties—training new warriors, inspecting patrol routes, attending the elders’ meeting—but the images haunted her. Every time she blinked, she saw that same scene: her father’s trembling hand, the spoon of medicine, the satisfied calm in Vivian’s eyes.
At midday, she walked into her father’s old study, the scent of aged parchment still clinging to the air. She ran her hand across his desk, feeling the grain of the wood. The seer’s words echoed in her mind: “Your power touches what has been.”
When her fingers brushed the edge of his silver watch—a keepsake Vivian had once forbidden her to touch—an electric tremor ran through her arm. The air shimmered.
The room around her blurred.
Suddenly, she wasn’t standing in the present anymore. She was there—watching through memory’s haze. Her father sat in that same chair, frail and coughing. Vivian stood beside him, smiling softly as she stirred something into a glass of water.
“I told you,” Vivian whispered in the vision. “It will help you sleep.”
Her father hesitated, then drank. His hand shook violently. He gasped for air. Vivian only stroked his hair. “Shh,” she said sweetly. “It’s all right.”
Then the vision shattered. Aurora stumbled backward, her heart racing. The glass crashed from her hand, scattering across the floor.
She didn’t need a council inquiry to tell her what she’d seen.
Vivian hadn’t just manipulated her father—she had murdered him.
\---
By dusk, word of Aurora’s discovery had begun to spread in whispers. Though she told no one directly, her agitation was impossible to hide. Even Jaxson noticed it as they stood on the balcony overlooking the pack training grounds.
“You’re pale,” he murmured. “What happened?”
Aurora hesitated. “Something I can’t unsee.”
“Vivian?”
Her silence was answer enough.
Jaxson’s jaw clenched. “If she’s guilty—”
“I’ll prove it,” Aurora cut in. “But I can’t act without evidence. Not yet. The pack already questions my strength. If I accuse her now, they’ll think I’m acting out of vengeance.”
Jaxson stepped closer, his hand brushing the small of her back. “You’ve already proven yourself a hundred times over.”
“Then let me prove it again,” Aurora said quietly. “By surviving this the right way.”
\---
Across the mountains, miles from Crimson Moon’s stronghold, Marcus Stone stood before a campfire surrounded by wolves in unfamiliar sigils. The Nightfall Pack’s warriors watched him with cautious curiosity.
“You want revenge,” their Alpha sneered. “But revenge is costly. What will you pay for it?”
Marcus’s smile was thin and cold. “I’ll give you Crimson Moon.”
The Alpha laughed. “You can’t give what you no longer rule.”
“Oh, but I can.” Marcus threw a folded map onto the table. “That is every patrol route, every guard rotation. You’ll find the Luna’s quarters here.” He tapped a point on the map with one finger. “Guarded only by two at night. She thinks herself untouchable. Let’s remind her she isn’t.”
The Nightfall Alpha studied the map, then looked up with a predatory grin. “And what of your reward?”
Marcus’s eyes glinted crimson in the firelight. “Her crown.”
\---
Back at the Crimson Moon estate, Aurora stood before the mirror in her chamber, her reflection illuminated by candlelight. She should have been preparing for the evening’s council banquet, but her thoughts kept circling back to the vision.
Her father’s death. Vivian’s deceit. Marcus’s treachery.
And beneath it all, a new question she couldn’t silence—why her? Why had she been born with this power, this strange fae inheritance that made her feel both alien and necessary?
The mirror shimmered faintly, as if answering. For a heartbeat, her reflection’s eyes flashed silver.
“You are not what they think,” a voice whispered from deep within her mind. “You are what they fear.”
Aurora’s breath caught. Her instincts screamed that the voice wasn’t her imagination—it was something ancient, awakening through her bloodline. She touched her temple, the silver glow fading.
“Then let them fear,” she whispered back.
At that exact moment, the bell in the main hall tolled—a warning signal. Distant howls echoed through the mountain. Jaxson burst into the room, half-shifted, his eyes burning gold.
“Scouts spotted intruders near the southern ridge,” he said. “Nightfall warriors.”
Aurora’s blood turned cold.
Her first true test as Luna had begun.
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