The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Lyla

Fire. That's what my eyelids felt like—burning, scorching fire.

My body was a collection of aches. It was as if each muscle was woven with pain, and they were currently screaming in protest as I came to consciousness slowly. Even breathing hurt; my lungs were raw as though I'd inhaled smoke for hours.

Despite the pain, I finally forced my eyes open. The light pierced like needles, and I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings. An unfamiliar ceiling came into focus—wooden beams with strange carvings I didn't recognize. The walls were a warm amber color, adorned with handwoven tapestries depicting women all dressed in white, wearing flower crowns on their heads and running through moonlit forests.

Where was I?

My mind felt sluggish as I tried to remember. It was as if it didn't want to put in the work, and the more I tried, the more the back of my head throbbed with pain. But I was able to remember fragments of memories. I remember the shelter in the woods, Clarissa, Beta Jeremy's truck… and then nothing except the pain and fever I was experiencing now.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my right arm, and I jerked, turning in the direction of the movement. The room spun for a minute, but when it settled, I could see a figure through my hazy vision.

"Lyla? Lyla, can you hear me?"

The voice was familiar, but it sounded so distant, as though it were coming from underwater. I blinked again, forcing my vision to focus on the person gripping my hand.

When my eyes finally adjusted to the vision, I relaxed visibly. It was someone I knew.

"Ramsey?" My voice came out as a croak, barely audible.

It was indeed Alpha Ramsey – The Lycan Leader and my mate, though he looked nothing like the polished, confident leader I remembered. His face was covered in bruises—one eye was swollen, a nasty cut was across his cheekbone, and his lower lip was split. A beard covered his jaw, unusual for a man who'd always kept himself meticulously clean-shaven.

Frown lines lined his forehead, making him look years older than when I'd last seen him.

"Why aren't you getting treated?" I slurred, staring at him.

"Lax is just exhausted, so he's healing slowly, but I'm fine," he smiled. "I don't even remember the injury half the time."

I wanted to ask him why Lax was exhausted, but he beat me to it, squeezing my hand and sighing with relief in his eyes.

"Thank the Moon Goddess. We weren't sure you'd wake up."

I could hear him talking, but his words seemed to drift in and out, some reaching me clearly while others faded into a distant hum. I concentrated, trying to focus on his voice.

"...fever broke yesterday, but you weren't responding... Clarissa said you'd been badly beaten... lucky to find you when they did..."

His voice was gradually became clearer, the underwater quality was receding until I could finally make out what he was saying.

"...missed you so much, Lyla. When I heard what happened at Blue Ridge, I thought I'd lost you for good."

"Blue Ridge? What happened there?"

From the last fragment of memory I remember, Blue Ridge—Nathan was preparing to attack the White Mountain Region. My eyes widened with fear as the implications of what could be the aftermath hit me.

Has the fight already happened? Did the Dark One win? Is it why Ramsey is injured?

I immediately attempted to sit up, but my muscles protested with pain. Ramsey immediately moved to help me, his hands held me gently as he propped pillows behind my back.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, trying to lubricate my dry throat with my non-existent saliva. I was so thirsty.

Ramsey must have noticed it because he reached for a glass of water on the bedside table and held it to my lips. I gulped down the water like it was oxygen, loving the way the cool liquid moisturized my parched throat.

"Five days," he answered. "When Clarissa—"

My mind snapped back to full alertness at the mention of her name. "Clarissa? Where is she? Is she all right?"

The last I remembered, we were in Jeremy's truck, Clarissa driving while I drifted in and out of consciousness. Had we been attacked? Had Nathan found us?

"She's fine," Ramsey assured me. "She's in the courtyard, getting some fresh air. She's barely left your side these past few days."

Relief washed over me. At least one thing had gone right.

With Ramsey's help, I settled more comfortably against the pillows. Now that I was more alert, I studied his face properly, reaching up to cradle his jaw. My fingers gently traced the outline of a particularly nasty bruise near his temple.

"What happened to you? Why are you covered in bruises?"

Something dark flickered in his eyes. He still hadn't told me what happened at Blue Ridge, but before he could answer, the door swung open.

A woman entered carrying a bowl of water and a clean towel. It took me a moment to recognize her—Nanny - Miriam, my mother.

She looked older than I remembered, gray streaking her once-dark hair and new lines etched around her eyes and mouth. But her eyes—those warm, knowing eyes—were exactly as I remembered them, and she was dressed like Mother Liora.

When she saw me awake and sitting up, the bowl slipped from her hands, and the water splashed across the wooden floor. The towel followed too, soaking up the way that was spreading quickly as she rushed toward me.

"My heartbeat!" she cried, her voice broke as she gathered me in a tight embrace, it was so tight I could barely breathe. "Oh, my precious girl!"

She pulled back just enough to cup my face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks as she examined me. "I thought we'd lost you. When your sister brought you in, so pale, so broken..."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she pulled me close again, rocking slightly as she had when I was a child.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, though the familiar scent of her—lavender and sage—brought a lump to my throat. But she has always been like this. Always dramatic.

Ramsey stood up with an amused grin on his face. Our gaze met over Nanny's shoulders, and he winked at me before announcing.

"I'll be outside waiting," he said, clearly recognizing that Nanny needed this moment. "There's much we need to discuss when you're ready."

Despite his smile, the seriousness in his tone wasn't lost on me. Something had happened—something beyond my injuries and escape from Blue Ridge.

As Ramsey left the room, Nanny finally released me, though she kept hold of one of my hands as if she was afraid I might disappear if she let go completely.

"Look at you," she said, wiping her tears with her free hand. "Still as stubborn as ever. Anyone else would have died from those injuries, but not my Lyla."

"What happened after we reached Golden Gates?" I asked. "The last thing I remember is being in Beta Jeremy's truck with Clarissa."

Nanny's expression grew solemn. "You arrived at our borders three nights ago, more dead than alive. It turns out that she had taken a longer route to Golden Gates. So by the time Clarissa arrived with you, she was half-mad with worry—said you'd been delirious for hours, and your fever had spiked to the highest forms I've ever seen."

She paused, brushing a strand of hair from my face with gentle fingers. "Coincidentally, Alpha Ramsey had just arrived that same morning. He had gotten a call from Beta Jeremy telling him you were here, and he was seeking sanctuary after the attack on White Mountain Region."

"Attack?" I echoed, alarm coursing through me. "What attack?"

Nanny glanced toward the door Ramsey had just gone through. "It's not my place to tell that story, my darling. He's been waiting for you to wake, desperate to speak with you." She squeezed my hand. "There's been... developments while you were unconscious. Terrible things are happening."

Nathan. Xander. The army he'd been gathering. It had already begun, then.

"I need to speak with Ramsey," I said, attempting to swing my legs over the side of the bed. "And Clarissa."

Nanny pushed me back gently but firmly. "First, you need to eat something. Regain some strength, and then I'll take you to the finest oak tree to help you heal. Clarissa had mentioned something like that."

"But…" I protested. I didn't want her to know to what extent I may be aware of what was happening; otherwise, she would immediately go into Mother Hen mode.

"You're no good to anyone if you collapse again."

She moved to retrieve the fallen bowl and towel, efficiently mopping up the spilled water. "I'll bring you some broth and bread. Then you can speak with Alpha Ramsey."

I wanted to argue, but the simple act of sitting up had drained what little energy I had left. Even now, my vision was starting to blur at the edges, my body was demanding more rest.

"Nanny," I called as she reached the door. "Was anyone else with us when we arrived?"

She shook her head. "Just you and Clarissa, half-frozen and terrified. No one else."noveldrama

So, Jeremy had gone back as he'd planned. Back to Blue Ridge, back to Nathan—or whatever was wearing Nathan's skin now. I hoped he was still alive, still finding ways to undermine Xander's plans from within.