All Chapters of The Alpha's Mute Mate : Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The transformation that overcomes Lydia as the ceremonial preparations conclude is unlike anything I've ever witnessed in my life, a metamorphosis that defies every law of werewolf physiology I've been taught. Instead of the familiar shift from human to wolf form that every pack member learns to control, her change is something far more sinister and unnatural. Her human shape dissolves into shadow and mist before reforming into a wolf that seems to be made of living darkness, its fur so black it appears to absorb light rather than reflect it. But it's the eyes that truly mark her as something other than natural—they burn with white fire that seems to pierce through the blood moon's crimson glow, and when she moves, she leaves traces of shadow that linger in the air like smoke. The crowd recoils instinctively from this possessed creature, recognizing on a primal level that they are witnessing something that should not exist in the natural order. Rasha's reaction is immediate and v

I never wanted a crown—I only wanted a place to belong. But if the crown is what it takes to protect what's mine, then let them place it on my head. The weight of responsibility settles over me like moonlight through dark clouds, both beautiful and haunting.Standing here now, watching the Blackwood Pack transform their sacred grounds into something from a dream, I feel the truth of those words burning in my chest. Flowers cascade from every tree branch, their petals glowing silver in the moonlight as if touched by magic itself. Lanterns hang like captured stars, casting dancing shadows that make the whole world seem alive with possibility. The bonfires roar with primal energy, their flames reaching toward the heavens as if trying to carry our joy to the moon goddess herself. Children run between the adults, their laughter pure and untainted by the darkness we've all survived. Warriors who once looked at me with suspicion now bow their heads in genuine respect, their eyes reflect

I was born to be a Luna… but not to become a weapon. The thought echoed through my mind as I stood alone in the moonlit clearing, the wolf's prophecy still ringing in my ears like a death knell.The ancient words had carved themselves into my consciousness, each syllable a blade that twisted deeper with every heartbeat. Around me, the Blackwood Pack's territory stretched endlessly into shadow, but I felt more isolated than ever before. The sigil on my arm pulsed with an otherworldly heat, as if something beneath my skin was trying to claw its way out. I pressed my palm against the mark, hoping to smother whatever was stirring within, but the burning only intensified. This wasn't just a blessing from the Moon Goddess—I could feel it now, the way it moved with its own consciousness, its own hunger.The realization hit me like ice water: I wasn't marked by divinity.I was possessed by something far older, far more dangerous. The prophecy hadn't chosen me as a savior; it had branded me

But victory always comes with a price, and mine is steeper than I could have imagined. The shockwave that freed the cultists doesn't stop at the chamber walls—it ripples outward, deeper, striking the ancient seal itself with more force than I intended.The sound that follows isn't quite an earthquake, isn't quite thunder, but something worse—the sound of reality tearing. Cracks appear in the air itself, spreading like a spider web across the chamber, and through those cracks seeps something that makes Nyx'Thal's darkness look like a candle flame.This isn't the controlled hunger of a deity seeking worship—this is primal, endless, the kind of hunger that devours galaxies. A Primordial. The name comes to me through Nyx'Thal's terror—yes, terror, not rage—as her presence writhes in my mind like a trapped animal. She's afraid. The deity who has haunted my bloodline for generations is suddenly, utterly afraid."You don't understand," her voice whispers desperately in my mind. "The co

The white void around me crystallizes into something that resembles a crossroads, though the paths stretch not through space but through possibility itself.At the center, hovering like a frozen star, is an artifact that makes my soul ache just to look at it—the Shard of the Beginning. It pulses with raw creation energy, each throb sending ripples through dimensions I can barely perceive.The Keeper materializes beside me, its form now settled into something that might have once been human, though its eyes hold the weight of eons. "This is your choice, Moon-Heir," it says, its voice carrying the resonance of cosmic forces grinding against each other."The Shard holds enough power to mend one seal—to buy your world precious time while you gather strength for what's coming." The artifact spins slowly, revealing facets that show glimpses of restored barriers, of Killian's tormented face clearing as the Primordial influence weakens, of my pack breathing easier under skies no longer ting