The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 179

“You were meant to stand HERE beside the Council,” Thora whispered, “not beneath the dirt with gutter wolves.”

Rage surged through me like fire.

“Say that again,” I growled.

Thora’s smile sharpened. “I said gutter wolves.”

My vision went white with fury.

Before I could move—

Before I could even breathe—

Thora flicked her hand.

A blast of power barreled straight toward me.

Enough to crush stone. Enough to flatten a wolf. Enough to snap ribs like twigs.

It hit me square in the chest—

and nothing happened.

Not even a stumble.

Not a flinch.

Not an inch.

Thora froze.

Her lips parted.

Her eyes narrowed.

“What…?” she whispered, confusion slicing through her controlled facade.

She lifted both hands this time—palms spread, runes igniting along her wrists.

“DOWN.”

The second wave of force slammed into me—

and slid off my skin like water.

I blinked.

She snarled.

“No,” she snapped. “No, no, no—this is impossible.”

Behind her, rubble shifted.

A soft groan.

Elder Selene staggered into view—robes torn, hair wild, face smudged with dust but otherwise unharmed. She looked dazed for a split second before Thora snapped:

“SELENE! Stop her!”

Selene’s gaze lifted to me—wide, frightened, trying to mask it.

She raised her hand shakily.

A current of shimmering gold light snapped outward, wrapping around me like a lasso.

A tug.

Barely that.

It felt like someone trying to pull me backward with a piece of yarn.

I didn’t even move.

Selene’s eyes widened.

Thora’s nostrils flared.

They stared at me with dawning horror.

“What did she do?” Selene breathed. “How is she—”

“She released a creature forged from our magic,” Thora hissed. “And it recognized her. It submitted to her. She has the Ancient Bloodline fully awakened.”

Selene took a step back. “Then we can’t control her.”

Thora’s voice dropped into a deadly whisper.

“No. But we can kill her.”

A pulse of fear shot through me—

not for myself.

For the three faint mate bonds flickering behind the rubble.

Toren.

Tyson.

Talon.

I felt all three of them struggling against unconsciousness. Fighting to reach me. Fighting to wake.

And the rage inside me answered.

Thora raised her hand again—

and this time I stepped forward.

One step.

Two.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Unshaken.

Selene recoiled like I’d slapped her.

Thora’s eyes blazed. “STOP.”

The Chamber vibrated with the force behind the command.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

Cracks spidered along the ground.

A pulse of power tore through the air—

and still I walked.

Something flickered behind Thora’s expression.

Not anger.

Not fury.

Fear.

Actual, bone-deep fear.

“You shouldn’t be able to do that,” she whispered, voice trembling for the first time.

I tilted my head.

“Looks like you overestimated yourselves,” I said quietly.

And underestimated me.

Selene stumbled back until she hit a broken pillar. “Thora—she’s—she’s not meant to exist. She’s not supposed—”

“ENOUGH!” Thora snapped.

Then she glared at me with raw hatred twisting her features.

“You think you’re invincible, girl?” she hissed. “You think the Ancient Bloodline makes you untouchable?”

Her hand lifted again—

but this time her power didn’t lash out.

It sputtered.

Flickered.

And died in her palm.

She stared at her own hand.

At me.

At the ruin.

At the two black X’s marking the dead Elders.

“You did this,” she whispered. “You killed them.”

“No,” I said. “Your monster did.”

Her jaw clenched.

“You unleashed it.”

“After you tried to kill me and my entire pack.”

Her teeth bared. “We were cleansing the world of a threat—”

“Then you should’ve started with yourselves,” I snapped.

The entire chamber hummed, the air vibrating around me like something massive was waking up inside my veins—like the Moon Goddess herself was leaning over my shoulder.

Thora felt it too.

She took a step back.

Selene whispered, “Thora… we can’t win this.”

Thora hissed. “We don’t need to win. We need to survive.”

She turned toward the far exit—

And I stepped forward again.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked.

My voice didn’t sound like mine.

It sounded deeper.

Older.

Thora froze.

Selene clutched her chest.

And I felt something shift behind me—

mate bonds flaring awake like someone had struck a match in the dark.

Toren’s voice rasped faintly:

“Kira…?”

Tyson groaned.

Talon pushed himself up on bleeding arms.

They were waking.

Alive.

Fighting.

Thora’s eyes flew wide.

“No,” she breathed. “This… this cannot be happening.”

But it was.

And she knew it.

She finally understood the thing she feared most:

I wasn’t beneath the Council.

I wasn’t meant for them.

I was made to end them.

Toren’s voice grew stronger behind me.

“Kira… run—”

I didn’t run.

I smiled.

Because for the first time?

Thora looked at me the same way every wolf under the ground had looked at her.

With dread.

With awe.

With fatal recognition.

“…What are you?” she whispered.

I met her eyes.

“Your ending.”

Thora stared at me like she’d finally realized she wasn’t standing across from a scared little wolf girl.

She was standing across from her replacement.

Her extinction.

Her end.

And I felt it—the ancient pulse beneath my skin, the raw heat building in my chest, the gravitational pull of three mate bonds flaring awake behind me like stars being reborn.

Toren—steady, fierce, anchoring.

Tyson—volatile, molten, ready to blow the world apart.

Talon—sharp, loyal, wild.

Their power thrummed toward me like invisible threads, weaving into my spine, my veins, my heartbeat.

And I let it.

I pulled on them.

All three.

Deep.

Hard.

They gasped behind me—three bodies reacting to the tether tightening, connecting us so fiercely it bordered on pain—but they didn’t stop me.

They gave it willingly.

For me.

For this.

For justice.

Thora saw the glow rising around my hands—white and gold and shadow all at once—and she took a single step back.

“No,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I would.

I did.

My fingers trembled—not with fear, but with power. More than I had ever felt. More than I could have imagined.

Selene felt it too.

She staggered, hand clutching her robe, voice shaking:

“Thora—we need to run—now—”

But Thora stood frozen.

Paralyzed in dawning horror.

Like she finally understood the universal law she’d spent a thousand years ignoring:

Power does not belong to the one who takes.

It belongs to the one who fights.

I raised my hand—slow, deliberate, almost gentle.

The power surged.

But for one second—just one—my hand wavered.

A flicker of hesitation.

A breath caught in my throat.

And then—

The Moon Goddess ripped into my mind.

Not with words.

With memories.

That little girl.

The one in the vision.

Bound. Bleeding. Begging for mercy.

Screaming for her mother.

While Elder Thora stood there.

Watching.

Bored.

Unmoved.

And when the order came—

She didn’t look away.

She watched the child die.

Something inside me snapped.

Not hesitation.

Conviction.

My hand steadied.

My breath steadied.

My heart became a blade.

I flicked my wrist.

Just a flick.

Barely a motion.

Barely anything.

But the chamber exploded with light.