The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Clarissa

The cottage finally came into view—a small stone structure almost entirely covered in ivy. It looked untouched, forgotten by time itself—perfect for our needs.

I shouldered open the door, wincing at the loud creak of the hinges. Inside, it was dark and dusty but dry and seemingly secure. I laid Lyla on the small bed in the corner, disturbing a cloud of dust in the process.

"Sorry about the accommodations," I said, attempting a lightness I didn't feel. "I don't know why I have this inclination not to take you back to the pack house. Am I wrong?" I asked over my shoulders.

Lyla didn't respond. She had slipped back into unconsciousness, her breathing shallow but steady.

I moved around the cottage quickly, finding candles and matches in an old drawer. As light filled the small space, I took stock of our situation. The cottage was basic but had what we needed—a roof, walls, a bed for Lyla, and enough distance from the pack house to give us time to think.

Wait a minute. Why was I saying 'our'?

This doesn't concern me. I should just let her stay at the cottage and go back to the comfort of my room, but then again, I couldn't bring myself to leave.

I pulled out the letter from my pocket and stared at it. Whatever secrets it contained had cost Lyla dearly. Part of me wanted to read it immediately, but something held me back. This was Lyla's legacy, our father's words to her. It felt wrong to intrude.

Instead, I turned my attention to Lyla's injuries. They were extensive—bruises covered most of her visible skin, and dried blood caked her face and arms. She didn't have a wolf, so healing would be impossible.

Sighing, I found a relatively clean cloth and a container for water, then slipped outside to fill it from a nearby stream.

When I returned, Lyla was awake again, watching me with wary eyes.

"You're still here," she observed, her voice raspy.

"Where else would I be?" I replied, kneeling beside the bed. "Hold still. I'm going to clean you up a bit."

She flinched as the cloth touched her face but didn't pull away. "Why are you doing this, Clarissa? Really?"

I continued dabbing at the blood on her temple, not meeting her eyes. "I told you, I—"

"You don't just hate me," she interrupted. "You've hated me since we were children. You reported me to Nathan. You told him that I was conversing with your mother earlier on. Why would you do that?"

I paused, the cloth hovering above her skin. "To win his affection. Since you came back, I've been uneasy, and you cannot relate, Lyla. You have men always swirling around you, and for what it's worth, I never hated you, Lyla. I hated what you represented."

"And what was that?"

"Everything I wasn't," I admitted, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "Strong. Special. The daughter our father actually wanted."noveldrama

A bitter laugh escaped her, causing her to wince in pain. "Is that what you thought? That our father wanted me? Did you see those walls in his study? That wasn't love, Clarissa. That was obsession. I was an experiment to him, nothing more."

I resumed cleaning her wounds, and I am gentler now. "I don't think so. I feel he had no way to express his love for you and your mother," I said softly. "All I saw was how he looked at you, even when he was pushing you away. There was pride there and fear. He never looked at me like that."

"Be grateful," Lyla whispered. "His attention came with a price."

We fell silent as I continued tending to her injuries. There was so much unsaid between us, years of rivalry and misunderstanding. But now, with danger looming over us all, those old grievances seemed suddenly small and meaningless.

"The letter," Lyla said finally. "May I see it?"

I retrieved it from my pocket and handed it to her. Her hands shook as she unfolded it, and her eyes moved rapidly over its contents.

"It's all here," she murmured. "Everything your mom told me... and more."

"What does it say?" I couldn't help asking.

Lyla looked up at me, something like trust flickering in her eyes. "It's a warning about Nathan. About what he is and what he's capable of. And instructions for a ritual that could restore my wolf."

I frowned. "Your wolf? But I thought—"

"Moonsingers cannot have a wolf," she smiled slyly. I think Father was not just trying to stop my pheromones but also to help me get my wolf. The truth is, I had a wolf…"

"You had a wolf?" My eyes widened. "What happened to it?"

Her eyes filled up with tears instantly. "I killed it. I separated her away from me because that's the only way I can use my Moonsinging abilities. Her name was Nymeris."

"I'm sorry. I can imagine how you feel. Is there a way you can heal?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I can use my powers, but I need to connect with nature to help me…"

"Really?" My eyes widened. "Do you want me to help you?" I asked, already reaching for her.

But she stopped me. "Not now." Her expression hardened, replacing the vulnerability of moments before. "We need to find a way to get to Ramsey and gather allies from Alphas who haven't sworn the blood oath to Nathan. We need to prepare ourselves for whatever Nathan – or Xander is planning."

She tried to sit up, wincing. I placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pressing her back down.

"First, you need to heal," I insisted. "You can't fight anyone in this condition."

A look of frustration crossed her face. "There's no time. Xander is moving too fast, and we can't wait. Not with what's coming."

I made a decision then that surprised even me. "I'll help you," I said firmly. Whatever you need, I'll help you get it. But you have to promise me something."

Lyla eyed me warily. "What?"

"When this is over—if we survive—we start fresh. No more rivalry, no more resentment. Just... sisters, and then you must save Nathan."

The word felt strange on my tongue, foreign yet right somehow.

Lyla studied me for a long moment, searching my face for deception. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her because she nodded slowly.

"Sisters," she agreed, extending her hand, "but I cannot promise to save Nathan. He's been eaten by the evil growing deep inside of him."

"I know that," I nodded "But there must be a part of him that can be salvaged. I cannot lose Nathan. My hand strayed to my stomach unconsciously. "You must save him from this, Xander. Who is he, by the way?" I asked.

"The Dark One," she said quietly.

"Oh!" I wanted to ask more questions, but sometimes remaining oblivious is much better than being aware of anything.

So, instead, I took her hand, sealing our unlikely alliance.

Outside, the wind picked up, rustling through the trees with an ominous whisper. A storm was coming, both literally and figuratively. But for the first time, I didn't feel alone in facing it.

I, Clarissa, the forgotten daughter, the overlooked sister, had found my purpose. And maybe, just maybe, I'd found my family too.

"Rissa," Lyla broke into my thoughts.

"Yes!" I turned to her.

"You're pregnant. I can feel life growing inside you."