The Alpha's Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger. Chapter 297 297: The Caged and the Free

Lyla

I sat in my small office in the underground prison, a history book open on my lap. The baby Feral—I'd nad him Shadow—curled up against , his strange blue-gray fur warm against my skin. Most of the Ferals had responded to my singing, regaining so of their sanity, but they still showed violent traits whenever soone other than approached or when soone approached .

One very funny trait I've noticed about them is how they beco overprotective towards as soon as they are restored to normal. They growl whenever soone is close to and go berserk if they think the person is trying to attack .

By attacking , it could just be simple actions like hugging, shaking hands or any other thing. That was when I realized that changing them back to normal would an filling them up with things they ought to learn. They were like empty storage disks ready to be filled.

So, I took it upon myself to train them daily for three hours in the morning and three hours in the evening. As expected, they were fast learners and mainly learned by copying and adapting. They were brilliant creatures.

"There must be another way," I muttered, flipping through the ancient text.

I was searching for alternatives to defeating the Dark One that didn't involve "stepping into the fire," as my father instructed in his last letter to . So far, I've found nothing promising.

"What are you reading?"

I jumped, nearly sending Shadow tumbling from my lap. I hadn't heard Ramsey approach, which was unusual—my senses were typically sharp.

"Goddess! You scared !" I slapped his arm playfully. "Are you trying to kill ?"

Ramsey grabbed both my hands, pinning them above my head as he leaned down to kiss deeply. His scent—pine and mountain air—enveloped , making my heart race.

Shadow whined loudly, pawing at Ramsey's chest, clearly jealous of the attention I was giving soone else.

We broke apart, laughing. "Your new pet doesn't like to share," Ramsey observed, stroking Shadow's head cautiously.

"He's protective," I agreed, surprised that Shadow allowed Ramsey's touch. Usually, he snapped at anyone who ca near . "What brings you down to my dungeon?"

"Just checking how you're doing," Ramsey said, taking a seat beside . "You've been down here for hours."

I closed the book quickly, sliding it under so papers. "I'm starving, actually. Haven't eaten since breakfast."

Ramsey glanced at the hidden book but didn't comnt. "Let's go out, then. There's a new place in the Pack square."

I carefully placed Shadow back in his special enclosure—more comfortable than the others, with blankets and toys. "Be good," I told him. "I'll be back later."

We made our way through the prison level, past cages holding the other Ferals. They watched us with intelligent eyes—not fully werewolves, but no longer mindless beasts either. My singing had brought them back from the edge, but they still needed the full ritual to complete their transformation.

"It's amazing what you've accomplished," Ramsey said as we climbed the stairs to the main level. "No one's ever rehabilitated Ferals before. I read in so history books that other Moonsingers before you could only weaken them with their voices to kill them but not to change them into normal werewolves."

"They're not fully healed yet," I reminded him. "The full moon ritual is their best chance."

Outside, the evening air felt wonderful after hours in the underground cells. We walked hand in hand to the pack square, where strings of lights illuminated outdoor tables.

"Let's eat here," I suggested, pointing to a small restaurant with delicious slls wafting from its doors.

Once seated, I ordered the largest steak they offered, along with potatoes and vegetables. When the food arrived, I dug in imdiately, hoping to delay Ramsey's inevitable questions. I could tell sothing was on his mind.

"Hungry, I see," he comnted, smiling as I devoured my al.

I nodded, mouth too full to speak. Ramsey ate more slowly, his eyes occasionally scanning our surroundings—the habit of an Alpha always on alert.

When we'd finished eating, he finally asked, "What were you reading about so intently earlier?"

I hesitated, then lied. "Just research for the ritual. Ancient texts on the process of the ritual and just so you know, there's absolutely no research on how to heal a Feral, so I would be using all my sense practically to heal them"

Ramsey nodded, accepting my answer without further questions, which was strange. Usually, he'd probe deeper, especially when I was being evasive.

That's when I noticed the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. Sothing was wrong.

I reached for his hand across the table. "What's the problem? You're wound tighter than a spring."

Ramsey sighed heavily. "Scouts spotted Nathan and his armies. They're heading toward White Mountain."

My blood ran cold. "When?"

"They should be here in three days. He's moving slower than expected, stopping at packs along the way to collect more soldiers." Ramsey's eyes t mine. "But knowing Nathan, the attack could co anyti. He's never been predictable."

I squeezed his hand, trying to project confidence I didn't entirely feel. "Everything will be fine. If the warriors all do like we've trained, it doesn't matter how strong Nathan's army is. We'll subdue them."

Ramsey nodded, lifting my hand to his lips. "I trust you."

We chatted casually for a while, trying to enjoy a normal evening despite the looming threat. I told him about Shadow's progress and how he'd actually allowed one of the healers to approach yesterday without growling.

Mid-sentence, sothing caught my eye—a familiar figure walking briskly through the square.

"Isn't that Cassidy?" I asked, pointing to a tall woman with distinctive dark hair dyed with blonde.

Ramsey's head whipped around, his eyes widening in recognition. "It is. She's supposed to be at White Lake."

I could see the questions in his eyes, the desire to speak with her despite his attempt to appear nonchalant.

"Go talk to her," I urged. "Find out why she's here. It could be important."

"It's fine," he insisted. "I already sent a ssage to her pack, giving them an ultimatum to reach out within 72 hours."

I rolled my eyes. "Ramsey, go. Now. Before she disappears."

He hesitated, then stood. "I'll be right back, I promise."

I watched him hurry after Cassidy, calling her na. She turned, her expression changing from surprise to sothing I couldn't quite read from this distance.

Left alone at the table, I pulled out the small book I'd hidden in my pocket—a condensed version of the text I'd been studying. The page was open to a passage about ancient sacrifices used to banish dark entities.

The words blurred before my eyes as I rembered another text I'd found earlier: "When the Moonsinger steps into the fire, darkness shall be consud by light."

Every account I'd found suggested the sa outco—defeating the Dark One would require my sacrifice. My death.

I closed the book as Ramsey approached, his face troubled. Whatever Cassidy had told him wasn't good news.

"What happened?" I asked as he sat down.

"She snuck out of White Lake without permission," Ramsey explained. "Says her father has been acting strangely, making decisions that endanger the pack."

"Like what?"

"He's refusing to send warriors to help defend White Mountain, for one. And he's been in frequent communication with soone outside the pack—soone Cassidy suspects is tied to Nathan."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "Does she think her father is under the Dark One's influence, too?"

"She's not sure," Ramsey sighed. "But she ca to warn us that White Lake might not be the ally we're counting on."

The implications were serious. White Lake was one of the largest packs in the region with better warriors If they sided with Nathan, or even just remained neutral, our chances of survival decreased dramatically.

"Did she say anything else?" I asked.

Ramsey nodded, his expression grave. "She ntioned overhearing her father talking about twins. Said it seed important, but she couldn't hear the full conversation."

Twins. The missing piece of the prophecy that Beta Jeremy had ntioned. What did it an? And why was it so important that both Nathan and White Lake's Alpha were discussing it?

"I asked her to join us for the war council tomorrow," Ramsey continued. "She knows things about White Lake's defenses that could be valuable if we need to..." He trailed off.

"If we need to consider them enemies," I finished for him.

He nodded grimly.

I reached for his hand again. "One problem at a ti. First, let's focus on the ritual. If I can convert those Ferals into fighters for our side, it will strengthen our position significantly."

"And if Nathan attacks before the full moon?"

"Then we fight with what we have," I said firmly. "We're stronger than he thinks."

As we walked back toward the pack house, Ramsey's arm around my shoulders, I couldn't help glancing back at the moon—waxing, nearly full. Three days until the ritual, three days until Nathan's army arrived.

Sowhere in those three days, I needed to decide whether to tell Ramsey the truth—that saving everyone might cost my life.