The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 149

The central room hummed with low voices and the shuffle of wolves getting settled. Dust drifted from the high stone beams. A lantern flickered. The air smelled of earth and tension.

Everyone stood gathered around the massive stone table—warriors, trackers, unmated wolves, elders, Shyanne and Marianne, Douglas, Mason, and my three mates.

Toren braced his hands on the table. “We need a plan. A real one. Ideas?”

Tyson crossed his arms. “The only plan they’ll accept is Kira dead or enslaved.”

“Comforting,” I muttered.

Talon stepped forward. “We need to know what we’re up against.”

Mason nodded grimly. “The dead zone buys time, not safety.”

Before the panic could spiral taller than the ceiling, I spoke.

“We need to warn the packs first.”

Silence.

Then Tyson glanced at me, jaw clenching.

“She’s right.”

Toren frowned. “Warn them of what exactly? We don’t—”

“I’ll explain,” Tyson cut in.

He stepped into the center of the room.

And the entire chamber stilled.

Tyson rarely looked shaken.

He rarely looked vulnerable.

Tonight he looked like something had broken inside him.

He swallowed hard. “Kira showed me something. A vision.”

Douglas stiffened. “The one she got from the Goddess?”

Tyson nodded once. “Yeah.”

He drew in a shaking breath.

And began.

“The first pack…” Tyson’s voice cracked, and he shut his eyes for a moment before continuing.

“It was burning. Completely engulfed. People screaming—mothers begging—kids hiding under bodies trying not to be found.”

Warriors looked away.

Some clenched their fists.

One elder covered his mouth.

Tyson’s voice dropped lower, rougher.

“The Council’s enforcers… they didn’t spare anyone. No one. Warriors fell first. The healers next.” He swallowed again. “One woman—she ran to Elder Thora. Actually ran to her. Grabbed her robe. Begged her to save her children.”

A few wolves gasped softly.

Talon whispered, “And?”

Tyson’s eyes opened—burning, ruined.

“Thora stepped aside and let an enforcer slit her throat.”

The horror rippled through the room.

I felt my chest tighten painfully.

He wasn’t done.

Tyson continued, voice trembling with suppressed rage.

“The second vision…”

He dragged a hand down his face. “The Council wasn’t burning that pack. They were… digging. Excavating. Like they were looking for something. Or someone.”

Mason stiffened. “Ancient blood.”

Tyson nodded. “Probably.”

He looked at me then, just for a second, before continuing.

“They dragged wolves out of the ground. Unconscious. Injured. Some still fighting. And then… a girl.”

His words faltered.

Toren whispered, almost afraid, “How young?”

“Maybe twelve.” Tyson’s jaw flexed hard enough I heard a crack. “Covered in blood. Bound. Gagged. Terrified.”

Marianne covered her mouth. Shyanne looked like she might vomit.

Tyson’s voice deepened into a growl.

“One of the Elders—one of the two who came to Toren’s territory—grabbed her by the hair and called her an abomination.”

Douglas swore violently under his breath.

Tyson’s hands shook violently. “And then he snapped her neck. Just like that. Threw her body aside like it was trash.”

Someone sobbed.

A warrior punched the wall.

Trackers cursed softly.

Tyson turned his head away, breathing hard, trying to get control.

“Thirteen packs,” he rasped. “Thirteen. Already gone. Fifteen hundred wolves. Most of them kids. Elders. Families.”

A long, tearing silence followed.

“So they’re clearing out ancient bloodlines,” Talon said quietly, voice shaking.

“Yes,” I whispered. “That’s who they’re targeting.”

Tyson nodded sharply. “Anyone with lineage they can’t predict, can’t control.”

“Why now?” Shyanne asked, voice small.

Mason answered. “Because Kira awakened her bloodline. She’s the catalyst.”

Everyone looked at me.

I swallowed.

Tyson stepped forward, voice steadier now but still shadowed with fury.

“And if they get to the last ancient bloodlines before we warn them… this continent is done.”

A murmur of dread moved through the room.

Toren straightened, full Alpha mode engaged. “Then we need to move quickly.”

“Tonight,” Tyson said firmly. “Not tomorrow.”

Talon nodded. “We split into small teams of runners.”

Douglas crossed his arms. “We warn every pack still breathing.”

“But we can’t go far,” Mason warned. “Seekers are everywhere.”

Trackers shifted uneasily.

Tyson’s voice softened as he looked at me.

“Kira… show them what she showed me.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. The Goddess only allowed one full transfer. But…”

Everyone leaned in.

“I can protect the runners,” I said. “Mask them. Block their auras from the Council’s seekers.”

Tyson, Toren, and Talon spoke at once:

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re pregnant.”

A soft voice.

Steady.

Unexpected.

“I might know something that could help.”

Heads turned.

Nicole.

Tyson narrowed his eyes. “How exactly?”

She took a breath. “I’ve been studying old Luna rites… traditions nearly forgotten. One technique is the Luna Blessing."

Toren’s brows snapped together. “A Luna blessing?”

Nicole nodded. “Yes.”

Toren ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “A Luna blessing can mask scents and create protection… but that only works on charms. Necklaces. Tokens.”

Nicole lifted her chin.

“Why not clothing?”

Silence.

Everyone blinked.

Toren stilled. “Because no one has ever tried it.”

Nicole shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it won’t work.”

Tyson turned to me. “Moon?”

I sighed. “It’s worth trying.”

Talon exhaled. “Alright. We need a test run. Volunteers?”

Instantly, several warriors stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

“Me too.”

“I’m fastest among the south scouts.”

“We’ll run in pairs.”

Shyanne whispered, “I love this pack. They’re insane.”

Marianne elbowed her. “Shut up.”

Toren finally nodded, tension dripping off him.

“Fine. We test it. If it works, we send warning teams.”

Douglas stepped forward. “But we don’t send them blindly. They carry messages. Evidence. Instructions.”

Toren’s eyes lit with lethal resolve.

“Yes.”

He moved to the table and began writing quickly—sharp, commanding strokes.

To any Alpha or Elder who reads this,

This is not a false alarm.

The Council is eliminating ancient bloodlines.

If you seek proof—contact the Whiterun Pack or the Bloodriver Pack.

If they do not reply, assume the worst.

Prepare your pack.

Hide your children.

And trust no Council envoy.

—Alpha Toren of the Crescent Moon Pack

He wrote message after message—twelve in total—each one a warning, a lifeline, a desperate plea for survival.

Meanwhile I gathered small items of clothing.

Scarves. Gloves. Shirt cuffs. Bandanas.

Anything made of fabric.

Nicole stepped beside me. “Ready?”

I swallowed. “Not really.”

She smiled faintly. “Good. Means you’ll be careful.”

I placed my hands over the first piece of cloth.

The room faded.

My pulse synced with the air.

My aura spilled softly—warm, silver light threading over the fabric. I whispered the old Luna words Nicole taught me—my voice shaking but steadying with each breath.

“Moon guide you.

Moon shield you.

Moon hide you.

In light, in dark, in shadow.”

The cloth glowed.

Warm.

Alive.

Nicole’s eyes widened. “It’s working.”

Tyson leaned forward. “She okay?”

“She’s glowing,” Talon muttered. “She’s definitely glowing.”

Toren whispered, almost reverent, “Ancient blood…”

One by one, I blessed each piece of clothing.

Nicole explained softly to everyone,

“As long as they’re worn, seekers shouldn’t detect you.”

Toren finished the twelfth letter and stepped forward.

“We choose two volunteers for the first run.”

Two warriors came forward—Jace and Mira, both seasoned scouts.

“You’ll run to the Redstone Pack first,” Toren said. “Drop the warning. Don’t linger. Don’t engage.”

Jace saluted. “Yes, Alpha.”

"And now, we wait." Toren whispered.