All Chapters of Alora's Windsong: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The storm wind eased. Ash thinned in the air and curled away into the trees. The mountain held its breath like it remembered what silence was supposed to feel like.The cellar doors stood open.Sarah climbed first, one hand white on the jamb. She looked bone tired and stubborn. Behind her, a second figure rose slowly from the dark. The hood hid everything but the line of a mouth and a throat too thin for any winter. Chains scraped the step. The sound made every wolf and lycan in the ring flinch.Ryker did not look away.Kira lifted one palm. Thorn lowered his staff. Warriors eased their stance but did not break the circle. Blaise shifted closer to me without thinking. Storm stirred in my arms, sleepy and warm, cheek pressed to my collarbone.Sarah guided the prisoner into the clearing. The woman moved like a candle that had burned down to its last light. Her cloak fell in heavy folds. The cuffs at her wrists glowed with the dull shine of old spellmetal. She lifted her head just enough

The escort stopped at the edge of the warded property line and would go no farther. Sarah crossed the threshold alone.She expected silence. She expected emptiness. She expected the slow rot of a man dying without dignity.She did not expect flashing lights.An ambulance sat in the gravel drive with the back doors open. Two medics carried equipment from the front porch into the house. Sarah broke into a run, panic and disbelief cracking through her chest. She burst through the doorway——and stopped short.Her grandfather wasn’t in a hospital. The hospital had been brought to him.A hospital bed had been placed in the sunlit room just inside the front window. Monitors were already wired. An IV drip hung beside him. Two large oxygen tanks sat ready. The old man looked thin — frail — but alive. But color was back in his cheeks, and his eyes were open.And he wasn’t alone.Mara stood beside his bed, helping support him while Cline adjusted the lines and positioned the pillows with the

Chapter 106 Quiet Before the StormWeeks had passed….Not peacefully — but steadily. The mountain stayed quiet. The wards held. Thorn’s shield now covered the entire mountain, both of them like a second sky. Whatever waited beneath the earth had not tested it again.Life — strangely — resumed.Classes started back up, and campus felt… almost normal. The illusion of normal was its own kind of blessing.I pulled my bike into my usual spot and killed the engine. For a moment, I just sat there, helmet still on, hands resting on my thighs. The morning had that strange, too-still feeling — not bad, not threatening — just aware. Like the world had inhaled and was waiting to exhale.Beth pulled in right beside me, parking in her usual spot.She grabbed her helmet from her back seat and grinned. “Dad’s taking my car to the shop at noon. Can I ride home with you?”She held up her own helmet by the chin strap like proof she fully intended to claim a spot behind me, whether I said yes or no.I

The mansion was quiet in the hush of evening light when I slipped down the hall toward my mother’s room, quietly pushing Storm in his stroller. He slept deeply, breath soft and steady, one tiny fist curled over his blanket. Their door stood half-open. I knocked gently.“Come in,” she said.Lyra sat upright in Dad’s four-poster bed beside the window, wrapped in her pale blue robe, her white hair spilling over her shoulders like moonlight made of living silk. She looked out across the pines as if she had been waiting for me, for her daughter.When I stepped inside, she turned, and her face warmed in a way I had no memory of, but my heart recognized instantly.“Come here,” she whispered, opening her arms.I crossed the room and leaned into her without hesitation — head to heart — breathing her in. She smelled of Lavender, honeysuckles, and the warmth of safety and home. The kind of belonging that makes the body remember what it never got to grow up having. Her hand settled at the back of

The moon was high by the time the last lanterns dimmed and the laughter drifted away with the night breeze. The pack house slowly emptied, children carried sleep-heavy on their shoulders, little shoes dangling, frosting still on their cheeks.Storm had fallen asleep in Beth's arms before the final song even ended — his tiny hand still gripping the ribbon from one of his gifts. Blaise kissed his forehead before Beth carried him to our hummer. She would tuck him safely into his nursery wing for the night.I would ride back with Blaise on his bike.The music softened, drifting into low strings as the singer sang her last song. Blaise reached for my hand.“Come dance with me,” he said quietly.We stepped out beneath the string lights that still glowed above the lawn. The night air was warm, and the distant laughter faded until there was only us — swaying slowly beneath the silver wash of moonlight.I rested my head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms c