#73 The Battle at MistMoor

The Battle at MistMoor
Ryanna POV

The night was a fucking bloodbath. Mistmoor’s forest burned with spellfire as the Crescent Veil’s three hundred witches and warlocks ripped through vampires and Directorate wolves. Green vines snapped necks, golden fireballs turned bloodsuckers to ash, and blue bolts blasted heads clean the fuck off.

My enchanted pistol weighed heavy in my hand, silver bullets loaded and ready. Headshot, burned or beheading, nothing else dropped these bastards. Syrene growled in my head, sharp and fierce. “Stay sharp, Ry. The Directorate’s stink is strong, Belinda’s scent is all over this.”

I fired, silver fire magic sparking along the barrel, and a vamp’s skull burst into ash. My mates tore through the chaos in their shifted forms. Kaelan’s golden wolf bounded ahead, playful charm gone feral, claws ripping heads. Lucien’s black wolf flowed like shadow, snapping spines. Darian’s grey-and-black wolf carved precise lines through the mess, nerdy as ever even in bloodshed. Rhydor’s red and black beast barreled straight through bodies, heads tumbling like dice.

And Aedryos....fuck. He stayed human, but moved like a god. Starfire crackled over his skin as he ripped vampires apart with his bare hands. My heart stuttered. Damn, he’s hot. Syrene snorted. “Focus, Ry. Fight now, drool later.”

I grinned through the blood haze, summoning a silver fire blade. My gown tore as I spun, severing vampire necks, ash raining down. “Eat shit!” I snarled, firing again. Another vamp fell. The coven behind me unleashed hell, vines crushing skulls, flames disintegrating bodies, warlocks blinking behind enemy lines. The forest lit up like judgment day.

Then I saw her. An older alpha wolf stood at the treeline, tall, black hair streaked with silver, power radiating in waves. Her eyes scanned the carnage with horror. Syrene’s voice dropped low. “That’s the source. Belinda’s stink clings to her.”

My blood boiled. That beta bitch had sold us out, and this alpha was tied to it. I stalked forward, pistol raised, blade humming, silver fire licking my skin. My mates circled closer, growls vibrating the ground, but they let me lead. The alpha’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t flinch.

“You with Belinda?” I snapped, voice dripping Mafia venom. “That bitch sold us out. I smell her all over you. What’s your deal, and why the Directorate attack?”

Her voice was cold as ice. “You’re a threat, Ryanna Varelli. The Directorate wants you gone, Moon Bound Queen or not.” Her gaze flicked over my men, then back to me. “You can’t fight what’s coming.”

I laughed, sharp and mean, my silver fire flaring hotter. “Bitch, I’m a demi-god. You think your vampires scare me?” I took a step closer, my pistol steady and my blade glowing. The coven rained sparks behind me, my mates’ snarls were a chorus of fury.

Syrene whispered, “She’s deep in this. Get answers. Don’t trust her.”

I grinned, ready to cut her or break her. “Spill it. What’s the Directorate planning? And how the fuck is Belinda tied to you?”

Maelira POV

The air reeked of blood and ash, the forest alive with screams and spellfire as my Directorate forces clashed with the Crescent Veil. My hair whipped around my face, my alpha aura still strong, but inside, something cracked.

For decades I had served the Directorate. Enforcing Galrith’s will. Obeying Elarynth’s whispers. I had raised Belinda as my own after her mother died, spoiled her, molded her into my second. And she betrayed Rhydor, betrayed us all, and dragged me deeper into this war.

And now, here she was. Ryanna Varelli. The Moon Bound Queen. Demi-god fire blazing in her green eyes. A prophecy given flesh. My chest tightened as she stalked toward me, torn gown clinging to her, pistol raised, blade glowing.

“You with Belinda?” she demanded, voice like a blade itself. “That bitch sold us out. I smell her stink all over you. Why’s the Directorate hitting us?”

I should have lied. I had lied my whole damn life. But staring at her, truth surged bitter in my mouth. “The high court is afraid,” I said, my voice steady but heavy. “Afraid you’ll take their throne and leave them nothing. They want you dead, Queen or not.”

The words tasted like betrayal, of them, not her. I lifted my head and whistled four sharp notes. My forces froze mid-battle, vampires halted, wolves snarled but obeyed, witches blinked in confusion. Silence fell, thick and uneasy.

“I will no longer stand against the Moon Bound Queen!” I shouted, my voice carrying across the battlefield. “The king and queen have lied to us. I am done.”

Murmurs rippled. Some eyes widened, some nodded, some burned with doubt. I didn’t care. My choice was made. I turned back to Ryanna. My knees hit the dirt, my fist pressed to my heart, my alpha pride shattering as I bowed for the first time. “Queen Ryanna, I pledge....”

Pain exploded. A knife punched into my chest, straight into my heart. I gasped, blood bubbling on my lips. A vampire, shadow quick, vanished as soon as the blade hit. My vision blurred. My strength faltered.

The god man roared, starfire erupting as he tore after the assassin. Wolves lunged, shadows screamed, fire raged, but I was falling.

If this was the end, maybe it was worth it. Maybe she would rise.

Ryanna POV

Maelira’s words hit like thunder, her kneeling, pledging herself to me. The Moon Bound Queen. My star. And then a knife pierced her chest. Blood gushed. Her eyes went wide.

“No!” I screamed, tearing forward, gown ripping as I skidded to her side. My pistol fell from my hand, forgotten. “Fuck, no, no, no!” My palms pressed to her chest, blood hot under my fingers.

“Ry!” Syrene’s voice was a whipcrack. “Pull everything. All of it. Give her your life if you must!”

Tears blurred my vision, my magic already surging wild. I dug deep, deeper than ever, silver fire roaring through me. My palms blazed like moons as I poured it into her.

Maelira’s body arched, her lips parting in a ragged groan. Her eyes fluttered. The battle noise faded to nothing. Only my magic, only her heartbeat hanging by a thread.

“Don’t you fucking die on me,” I snarled through gritted teeth, silver fire blazing brighter than the moon overhead.