I CLAIMED THE DISCARDED LUNA

Chapter 9: The Shadow Breach

The northern storm followed them down from the peaks, blanketing the valley in a thick sheet of white fog. By midnight, the black stone spires of the Frostfang Citadel loomed out of the mist like giant, silent sentinels.

At the edge of the outer tree line, Kaelen reined in his stallion. Beside him, Seraphina and their three surviving vanguard guards pulled their grey cloaks tight against the freezing sleet.

"The main gate is garrisoned by thirty Royal Crown Guards," Kaelen said low, his eyes scanning the torchlit battlements above the drawbridge. "If the High Council ordered the ambush in the pass, the gate captain already has instructions to detain us the moment we show our signet."

"We aren't using the gate," Seraphina replied, unrolling a hand-drawn leather map against her saddle horn. She pointed a gloved finger at the base of the eastern cliff, where the citadel’s outer wall met the sheer granite face of the mountain. "When your father built the keep forty years ago, he installed drainage culverts for the lower ironworks. The grates are forged steel, but the mortar in the eastern arch eroded during the spring floods."

Kaelen looked from the map to her face, a quiet glint of appreciation in his crimson eyes. "You memorized the citadel's forty-year-old architectural blueprints?"

"I told you in the carriage," Seraphina said with a calm, dangerous smirk, "I spent last month studying your empire's public records. You’d be amazed what an architect files under routine maintenance."

"I stop being amazed by you, Advisor, I'll be dead," Kaelen muttered, a low rumble of genuine warmth in his chest as he dismounted into the deep snow.

They left their horses under the care of the three vanguard guards with strict orders to hold the perimeter. Moving like shadows through the fog, Kaelen and Seraphina navigated the slick rocks along the eastern cliff base until they reached the low iron archway embedded in the granite wall.

The iron grate was thick, locked with heavy rusted chain.

Kaelen stepped forward, gripping the iron bars in his bare hands. He didn't draw his sword. He simply closed his eyes, drawing a deep, surging breath as his Alpha aura flared beneath his skin. Veins bulged along his forearms, his Lycan claws extending as he applied raw, concentrated royal force.

CREAK... SNAP.

The ancient iron chain sheared under his grip, the heavy grate swinging inward with a low groan.

Kaelen stepped back, extending a hand to Seraphina. She took it without hesitation, her fingers locking with his for a brief, firm second before they slipped inside the dark stone tunnel.

The passage was narrow, wet, and smelled of damp earth and old iron. They moved in single file, Seraphina taking the lead to navigate the turns while Kaelen covered their rear with his broadsword drawn.

Ten minutes later, they pushed through a concealed wooden servant hatch, stepping out into the dark, quiet corridor of the high quarters.

The hall was empty, but the silence felt unnatural, heavy, charged, and suffocating.

"Vane’s quarters are at the end of the western gallery," Kaelen whispered, his hand hovering over his sword pommel as they moved along the stone tapestry wall.

They reached the heavy oak door of General Vane’s chambers. Two royal guards in capital surcoats stood posted at the entrance, their spears crossed over the threshold.

Before the guards could raise an alarm, Kaelen stepped out of the shadow of the pillar, unleashing a razor-focused burst of Alpha pressure directly at their minds.

The two guards gasped, their knees buckling as their eyes rolled back in their heads. They slid silently down the stone doorframe, unconscious before their bodies hit the floor. Seraphina caught the first guard’s spear before it could rattle against the stone, setting it down without making a sound.

Kaelen grasped the iron handle of Vane’s door, turned it slowly, and pushed the heavy oak open.

The room was dimly lit by a single dying fireplace. Books and maps lay scattered across a central oak desk.

Sitting in a high backed leather chair beside the hearth, dressed in a simple wool tunic without his golden commander's clasp, sat General Vane. He held a glass of dark wine in his hand, his scarred face turned toward the opening door.

He didn't reach for his sword. He didn't call for guards. He simply looked at Kaelen, then at Seraphina, before taking a slow sip from his glass.

"You took three days to return from High Ridge, Sire," Vane said, his deep, raspy voice carrying zero surprise. "I expected you yesterday."

Kaelen stepped into the room, his long dark coat dripping melted snow onto the rug. He reached into his coat, drew out the glowing blue vial of wolfsbane extract, and set it hard onto the table beside Vane’s wine glass.

THUD.

The pale blue light illuminated Vane’s weathered, scarred features.

"You left forty crates of refined wolfsbane in a mountain bunker, Vane," Kaelen said, his voice dropping into a deadly, vibrating tone that shook the glass on the table. "And the Royal Crown Guard ambushed us in the Whispering Pass."

Vane stared at the glowing vial for a long, heavy moment. His hand trembled slightly as he set his wine glass down beside it.

"The Crown Guard..." Vane murmured, his amber eyes closing for a fraction of a second as a deep, exhausted crease formed between his brows. "So Duke Alden wasn't working alone. The High Council executed the order while I was under house arrest."

"Stop hiding behind noble titles, General!" Kaelen barked, stepping toward him, his presence towering over the old soldier. "You knew the capital was refining poison! You knew someone on the council was plotting against the Crown! Why build a bunker in the mountains instead of telling your King?!"

Vane slowly looked up, his amber eyes meeting Kaelen's crimson glare with a painful mix of fierce pride and deep, agonizing regret.

"Because you were nineteen when I buried your father, Kaelen!" Vane growled, rising from his chair to face him. "Because I spent ten years watching the High Council smile in your face while buying your lords with gold! If I told you the council was refining wolfsbane without absolute proof, you would have marched into that council chamber with your sword drawn and given them the exact excuse they needed to declare you a tyrant and tear this empire apart!"

Seraphina stepped up beside Kaelen, her voice sharp as steel. "So you fought a private war in the shadows, General? You let Duke Alden frame you, let the King arrest you, and left the entire northern border defenseless while the capital prepared an assassination?"

Vane looked at Seraphina, his jaw tightening. "I built the High Ridge bunker as a trap, Lady Seraphina. The wolfsbane in those crates wasn't manufactured by my orders. It was seized from a capital supply wagon five months ago!"

Kaelen froze, his dark eyes narrowing. "Seized?"

"I was tracking the poison trail back to the High Council master mind," Vane admitted, his voice cracking with heavy, raw emotion. "I needed time to catch the duke who ordered the alchemy. But I ran out of time... and I failed my King."

Vane dropped to one knee before Kaelen, bowing his head deeply.

"I am ready for your judgment, Sire," Vane whispered into the quiet room. "Execute me for treason, or use my head to buy peace with the High Council. But do not let them take your crown."