All Chapters of Realm of Power: Werewolf vs Vampire : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Lyra POVJulianna had been quiet all day.Not the peaceful kind of quiet. Not the I’m thinking about homework kind. This was the kind where she smiled too quickly, laughed half a second late, and stared at nothing for just a bit too long.Which meant something was wrong.I watched her from across the bench outside the west wing, my chin resting in my palm. Students passed by in clusters, laughing, arguing, living their lives like nothing had happened weeks ago. Like the world hadn’t almost cracked open.Julianna didn’t notice any of it.“Okay,” I said finally. “That’s enough.”She blinked. “Enough of what?”“Whatever emotional nonsense you’re trying to pretend isn’t happening,” I replied. “Out with it.”She scoffed. “Nothing’s wrong.”I leaned closer. “You just lied to my face.”

Lyra POVWe were surrounded.Not the dramatic kind of surrounded where there’s still a clever way out—no gaps, no hesitation in their stance, no fear in their eyes. Just white-robed figures encircling us in a perfect ring, their feet planted firmly against the cold stone of the mountain path. The wind howled above us, tugging at my cloak like it wanted to drag me off the cliff itself.Scott stood beside me, shoulders tense, fists clenched so tightly I could hear the crackle of lightning answering his anger. Blue sparks crawled across his knuckles, crawling up his arms like living veins of light.He was seconds away.“Scott,” I said quietly.He didn’t look at me.“I said, Scott.” I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.The lightning flared—then stilled.“They outnumber us,” I said, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. “And they’re not hesitating.”“I can take them,” he growled. “Just give me—”“No.” I tightened my grip. “We can’t win.”That finally made him turn to me

Lyra POVI was still reeling from Master Veyron’s story when Scott scoffed beside me.“Really?” he said. “You expect us to believe that?”I turned toward him sharply. “Scott—”“In the history books,” he continued, voice rising, “Maereth Noctyra was an evil witch. A tyrant. Someone who wanted to wipe out entire realms.”“Scott,” I warned again, lower this time.“And Ringwarden Sorcerers?” He laughed once, humorless. “Never heard of you. And honestly—what kind of stupid name is that?”I punched him in the arm hard enough to knock the breath out of him.“Forgiv

Scott POVThe room they gave me was quiet in the way mountains are quiet—too quiet, like the silence was holding its breath.Stone walls, carved smooth by time and magic, reflected the faint glow of lantern light. A simple bed. A low table. A window carved directly into the rock, opening to a vast night sky stitched with stars. Any other night, I might’ve appreciated it.Instead, my stomach twisted.At first, I thought it was nerves. Or hunger. Or the lingering weight of the ceremony—Finn’s face, frozen in charcoal and memory, candles trembling in the cold mountain air. Master Veyron voice breaking when he spoke. Darius standing like a statue carved from grief and rage.I pressed a hand to my abdomen and exhaled slowly.“Get it together,” I muttered.I sat on the bed, then lay back, staring at the ceiling. Stone veins ran through it like cracks in old bones. I closed my eyes, intending only to rest for a moment.That was when the mountain screamed.The explosion wasn’t loud at first—i

Scott POVThe stone wall was cold against my shoulder, but I barely felt it.What I felt—what I couldn’t stop feeling—was the burning. It crawled through my veins like molten glass, slow and deliberate, as if my body itself had turned against me. Every breath scraped. Every step felt borrowed.Benchedstone.That smug bastard hadn’t just poisoned me. He’d planned it.I dragged myself deeper into the mountain, boots scraping against the uneven floor. The lower chambers were quieter—too quiet. No chanting. No guards. Just the low hum of mana vibrating through the stone, like the mountain was holding its breath.Then I saw him.Darius stood at the center of the chamber, framed by ancient pillars cracked with age. Floating before him was a medallion—dark iron etched with symbols that made my eyes ache if I stared too long. Mana bled off it in slow, deliberate pulses, like a heartbeat that