The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 180

A tidal wave of ancient power slammed into Elder Thora and Elder Selene with a force that shook the walls, split the floor, and sent a shockwave through the entire compound.

They didn’t scream.

They didn’t fight.

There wasn’t time.

They shattered.

Shattered.

Into a million glittering pieces.

Like crystal struck by lightning.

Fragments drifting upward, sparkling soft as snowflakes before burning away into ash—gone before they hit the ground.

No blood.

No bodies.

No remains.

Just…

Silence.

An impossible, heavy silence.

My hand dropped.

My knees nearly went with it.

Behind me, Toren inhaled sharply.

Tyson choked on a breath.

Talon whispered hoarsely:

“Holy… fuck.”

But I kept staring at the space where the Elders had stood.

Where their power had been.

Where their cruelty had ruled for centuries.

Gone.

I had done that.

I had erased them from existence.

Toren’s arms wrapped around my waist, steadying me.

Tyson’s hand touched my shoulder, shaking with awe.

Talon pressed just behind them, warm and real and alive.

But none of them spoke.

Not yet.

They were looking at me like—

Like they didn’t know whether to fall to their knees…

…or pull me into their arms…

…or run for their lives.

I swallowed slowly, my voice barely more than a whisper:

“It’s done.”

Toren’s hand tightened. “Starlight… you just—”

Tyson finished, voice trembling with stunned admiration:

“You ended two Elders. With a flick of your wrist.”

Talon stepped in front of me, lifting my chin gently. His voice was soft, reverent.

“Firefly… what have you become?”

I didn’t know.

But I knew one thing:

Whatever I was now…

The Council should’ve never made me evolve.

Because now?

I wasn’t running.

I wasn’t hiding.

I wasn’t waiting.

I was coming for the rest of them.

And nothing—

not Elders,

not monsters,

not gods—

was going to stop me.

“Mason—Douglas—the twins—where are they?” I rasped.

No one answered at first.

Then chaos broke loose.

We scattered.

Through shattered stone pillars.

Through cracked marble.

Through smoke rising from the broken floor.

Through the heavy scent of something ancient finally dying.

“TWINSSS!” Talon bellowed, his voice echoing off the ruined ceiling.

“Douglas!” Tyson shouted, shoving aside chunks of debris with his one good arm.

“Toren—Mason was near the table—check there!” I gasped.

Toren didn’t hesitate.

He sprinted over shattered tiles, pushing aside slabs of marble that weighed more than cars.

“Toren—careful—!” I tried, but he ignored me completely.

He dropped to his knees by a collapsed beam and heaved it up with a guttural roar.

Dust choked the air—

And beneath it—

A groan.

“Toren—here! Help!” Mason’s voice came from under the rubble.

Relief punched through me like lightning.

Toren hauled him up by the arm, pulled him free just as another slab cracked loose. Mason stumbled out, coughing, bruised, covered in debris—but alive.

“Kid,” Mason wheezed, looking at me through dust-coated lashes. “You kill two Elders without warning again and I’m grounding you for life.”

I would’ve laughed if my heart wasn’t still racing.

Meanwhile—

Tyson and Talon were ripping apart what was left of the far wall.

“Talon—grab that side!”

“Tyson, watch your arm—!”

“Shut up and PULL—!”

A section of ceiling shifted—

Douglas crawled out, coughing violently, blood trickling from his forehead but otherwise intact.

Talon hauled him upright, patting his shoulders roughly.

“You good?” Talon demanded.

Douglas spat dust. “Define good.”

He looked around, dazed, then smirked weakly.

“Damn. You actually killed them.”

“Focus,” Tyson snapped, already scanning the room. “Where are the twins?”

My breath stilled.

“Oh goddess—Shyanne! Marianne!”

My voice echoed sharply.

No answer.

Panic clawed up my throat.

I shoved past fallen chairs and cracked floor tiles—

Until I saw it.

A corner.

Shadowed.

Half-collapsed.

But big enough for—

“Shy? Mari?” I whispered.

Two heads peaked out.

They were huddled together, arms wrapped around each other, shaking—but alive.

Barely scratched.

Their eyes went huge when they saw me, and they launched themselves into me so hard it nearly knocked me backward.

“You’re okay—thank the Goddess—you’re okay!”

I squeezed them both so tightly their ribs might’ve complained. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you both.”

They pulled back, eyes glossy—but not from fear.

From something else.

Something… lighter.

“We have to ask,” Shyanne whispered, voice trembling. “Do you feel it?”

My breath hitched.

I stared at them.

Marianne nodded, eyes shining. “You do… don’t you?”

I swallowed, then nodded.

Yes.

I did.

It hit me all at once—

like a weight sliding off my shoulders,

like the world exhaling for the first time in centuries.

That pressure I’d always felt?

That invisible watchful gaze?

That suffocating presence in the back of my mind whenever the Council made a decree or passed a law or even thought about enforcing something?

Gone.

Completely.

Like a curse lifting.

“It feels like…” I whispered.

“Freedom,” Marianne finished for me.

Shyanne sniffed, smiling through tears. “I didn’t even realize how tight it felt. How heavy. How scared we always were. Until right now.”

I looked around the ruined chamber.

The shattered thrones.

The collapsed ceiling.

The scorch marks where two Elders had ceased to exist.

And for the first time in my life…

The Council wasn’t above me.

Wasn’t around me.

Wasn’t watching me.

Wasn’t stronger than me.

I lifted my head slowly.

And I felt it.

A ripple.

A wave.

A thrum moving through the air like a whispered announcement—

Every shifter in the world would feel it.

The death of the council.

The fall of ancient power.

A shift in the hierarchy of wolves everywhere.

Shyanne squeezed my hand.

“Other packs…” she whispered. “They have to feel it. They have to feel the power leaving them.”

“Good,” I whispered, fire flooding my chest. “They deserve to feel it.”

I pulled the twins into another tight hug.

Because this was only the beginning.

The world had just changed.

Toren pressed his forehead to mine, catching my shaking hands in his.

“Starlight,” he whispered, voice hushed with awe and concern. “You killed them.”

I swallowed hard.

“I had to.”

Talon stood behind me, arms crossed, jaw tight—but his eyes?

Pure pride.

Tyson, still bruised and pale from his broken arm, exhaled a shaky laugh.

“Remind me never to piss you off again.”