The Alpha's Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger. Chapter 291 291: Healing

Lyla

The scene that greeted was chaos.

Three young girls in white robes lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath their still forms. Several more were backed against the temple wall, their faces frozen in terror as Ferals advanced on them.

In the center of the courtyard, Ramsey is fighting desperately against three massive Ferals who surround him. Despite his Lycan strength, he was outnumbered and already wounded, adding to the previous wounds and exhaustion he hadn't healed from. Fresh blood was now streaming down his face and arms.

Without hesitation, I step forward, placing myself between the cowering girls and the advancing Ferals.

As if sensing my presence, every Feral turned towards simultaneously. What happened next ca as a shock even to , questioning everything I already knew about these creatures—they stopped. Their aggressive posture softened, and their heads tilted in my direction as if they recognized who I was.

"Hey, babies," I say softly. "Long ti no see."

The nearest Feral makes a sound halfway between a whine and a growl. They're looking at with unexpected awareness in their eyes, sothing beyond the mindless hunger that typically drives them.

Following pure instinct, I began to sing. The lody was different from my healing song—it was darker and resonated with so deep ancestral mory I didn't know I possessed.

The effect is imdiate. The eyes of all the Ferals turn from the red glinting eyeballs they were monts ago to black, and they sit back on their haunches, watching . Their eyes remain fixed on , transfixed by the sound of my voice. Even the ones attacking Ramsey turn away from him, drawn to instead.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see Ramsey staring at in disbelief, his expression shifting from battle-ready to awestruck. The terrified apprentices watched with equal astonishnt as the creatures that had been about to tear them apart now sat docile, almost reverent.

As my voice filled the courtyard, the wind picked up again, swirling around us in a miniature cyclone. Leaves and petals dance in its wake, creating a living barrier between the Ferals and the rest of the temple grounds.

In this mont, with the Ferals responding to my call and nature itself amplifying my power, I understand what it truly ans to be a Moonsinger. This is more than an ability, more than an inherited responsibility—this was ancient magic, older than packs, older than the division between human and wolf.

I could see the relieved expression on everyone's face. I was their guardian. This is what it ans to have power: to help the people and to give them relief. At that mont, I knew what choice I had to make.

And for the first ti since losing Nyris, I felt truly whole.

~~~

With the Ferals now pacified, their eyes were on with a mix of devotion and recognition. I turned my attention to the wounded apprentices. Three of them lay on the ground, their white robes were stained with blood and their breathing was shallow and erratic.

"We need to move them," I instructed the other priestesses who stood nearby, still trembling with fear. "Place them on a raised platform away from direct sunlight."

The won hesitated, their gazes darting between and the Ferals that had, just monts ago, been trying to tear them apart. Now, those sa creatures sat docile, watching my every movent like lost pups seeking direction.

"It's all right," I assured them. "They won't harm you now."

Cautiously, the priestesses moved to help the apprentices. As they carried the wounded to a stone dais beneath a sheltered portico, the Ferals trailed after , maintaining a respectful distance but clearly unwilling to let out of their sight.

The crowd parted as Nanny pushed her way through, her eyes wide with disbelief. When she reached , tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"I was only gone for a minute. What happened?"

"Nothing that you should worry about. I'm fine now."

"By the Goddess," she whispered, pulling into a fierce embrace. When she finally released , her hands remained on my shoulders as she studied my face. "My little girl is all grown up and saving the world."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with my newfound powers. "Yes, Mom. I am."

The word slipped out naturally, though I'd never called her that before. It felt strange on my tongue, yet sohow right. Nanny's face lit up with a joy so pure it made my heart ache for all the years we'd lost.

"I need to heal the girls before their wolves die," I said, gently disengaging from her hold.

Nanny nodded, following as I moved toward the wounded girls. "You've healed yourself nicely," she observed. "Have you ever considered becoming a High Priestess? The temple could use soone with your gifts."

I chuckled, "One life-altering role at a ti, please."

We reached the dais where the three young won lay. Their faces were ashen, their wounds still seeping blood despite the hasty bandages applied by the priestesses. I could sense the weakening pulse of their wolves, their sacred bond slowly waning as death approached.

I knelt beside them, placing my hands palms-up over their forms.

Then, I began to hum. It wasn't the sa lody I'd used with the Ferals or with the healing tree. This was sothing different—a sequence of notes that seed to arise from sowhere deep within , a knowledge I hadn't known I possessed.

Blue flas spiraled from my palms, not hot but cool like mountain spring water. The ethereal fire twisted and coiled in the air, forming intricate patterns before descending to envelop the wounded girls.

The assembled priestesses gasped collectively, many falling to their knees in reverence. I ignored them, focusing entirely on the task at hand. I could feel the blue energy seeking out injuries, nding torn flesh, replenishing lost blood, coaxing their wolves back from the brink of death.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. Gradually, the wounds on the girls' bodies began to close, angry red giving way to pink and then unblemished skin. Color returned to their cheeks, and their breathing deepened and steadied.

Finally, one by one, their eyes fluttered open. They looked around in confusion, then at .

Terra, Nanny's friend, broke from the crowd, tears streaming down her face as she approached the dais. "The Goddess is so rciful to ," she exclaid. "Who would have thought I would see a Moonsinger in the flesh?"

I offered her a small smile but didn't respond. The reverence in her eyes, in all their eyes, felt wrong sohow—a burden I hadn't asked to bear.

"Terra," Nanny said, "Stop being dramatic. You're making her uncomfortable."

"But it's the truth," Terra sniffed back tears, giving an apologetic smile. "You're the best gift to us, Lyla."

Before the conversation could continue, I stood. "They'll need rest and food," I said, nodding toward the recovering girls. "Their wolves are stable now, but healing takes energy."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and made my way back to the outer courtyard where the fight had taken place. The Ferals followed at a distance. I wasn't sure what to do with them, but that was a problem for later.

Ramsey was where I'd last seen him, now slumped against the wall. Blood still seeped from multiple wounds, though not as profusely as before. His Lycan healing had kicked in, but slowly—he was clearly exhausted.

When he saw approaching, a tired smile spread across his face. He lifted a hand toward , wincing at the movent.

"I'm sorry, love," he said, his voice weaker than I'd ever heard it. "Lax is slower. He's practically exhausted. I'm so proud of you."

I nodded, kneeling beside him. "It's a good thing your mate is a Moonsinger."

"You know this," he murmured.

I busied myself examining his injuries, unbuttoning his torn shirt to assess the damage beneath.

What I found made gasp softly. His torso was a field of wounds both fresh and healing—deep gashes from Feral claws, bite marks that had narrowly missed vital organs, bruises layered upon older bruises. So wounds were already forming scars, evidence of days of fighting.

"Did you throw yourself at the Ferals?" I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice. "Why do you have so many wounds?"

Ramsey sighed tiredly, his head resting back against the stone wall. "I knew my woman could heal ," he said, attempting a roguish smile that didn't quite mask his pain. "I was just being naughty."

I rolled my eyes at him, but internally, I was touched by his confidence in my abilities—especially since I'd only just discovered them myself.

Placing my hands over his chest, I began to hum once more. This healing song was different from the one I'd used for the apprentice—deeper, more resonant, almost intimate. To my surprise, the energy that spiraled from my palms wasn't blue but red, and it pulsed with the rhythm of a heartbeat.

The red light spun around Ramsey, sinking into his wounds. I could feel our connection strengthening as I worked, an invisible thread binding us together in unexpected ways.

Ramsey looked up in surprise. "Why is it red?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, the expression tinged with an unexpected sadness and acceptance. "That's because we're mates and fated to be."