The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Chapter 279 279: Hard choices

Lyla

I followed Nathan to the back of the Alpha house down a narrow corridor I'd never explored before.

The pack house was large, with wings and passages I'd never had reason to visit. This section felt older somehow, filled with the musty scent of wood and old paper.

"How much further?" I asked in a whisper. There was something about this place that demanded reverence.

"We're here," Nathan replied, stopping before a metal door. Different symbols and ancient runes were carved on the frame. I recognized some from old pack text, while others felt completely foreign to me.

Nathan produced a heavy iron key from his pocket. It looked ancient, the metal dark with age. The lock clicked open with surprising ease, as if it had been regularly used despite its appearance.

"After you," Nathan said, gesturing for me to enter first.

I hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside.

The moment I stepped into my father's private study, what I saw made me freeze in my tracks.

The room was dimly lit, and the scent of old parchment and cedarwood lingered in the air. My eyes widened as they landed on the wall before me—covered in photographs, clippings, and detailed analysis.

It seemed as if I had just walked into an investigation room. My picture was at the center of the investigation board. In the other spaces on the walls were pictures of me at different stages of my life.

Some were from childhood, and others seemed recent. There was even a picture of me on my college graduation day. Nanny—my mother's face appeared beside mine in most pictures, but they were mostly from when I was younger.

A large idea board on a stand dominated one side of the room as if the one on the wall wasn't enough. It was filled with meticulous notes, diagrams, and calculations. The words "Moonsingers" were scrawled across the board in bold ink, underlined multiple times.

My chest tightened as I stepped closer. I reached out to touch one of the pages pinned to the board, trying to fight the nostalgia that had suddenly seized me.

"My father did all of this?" I managed to ask.

to a greater extent, but I'm sure he must have had help. When he was still here, he would end our

with embarrassment. "Don't

of course they couldn't do it in the pack house. Your mother wasn't pure, Lyla. You have

other materials on the board. Most of them were information

ran down my spine, and I

already dead before I was officially announced as a Moonsinger. How did he know I was

unfazed.

tracing the lines connecting different names and places. There were several

something caught my attention – a section detailing the Auréans. My heart stopped beating for

Her name was circled multiple times, alongside references to other Moonsingers, I think in

that, at the beginning of the wall, my father had been researching pheromones, looking for a solution, and in the process, he traced me back to Neriah. There was even detailed documentation about my birth and the things that happened on that day, and most of them were things that

to the corner. It was a short passage of something, and it was written in faded ink. I

none, she will rise – the last of her kind, blood of Neriah, vessel of the goddess. Neither wolf nor human but

father's distinctive handwriting, was written, "Lyla might be the Moonsinger, the other prophecy, and this prophecy speaks of it. All signs

a step back. I was stunned and nostalgic at the same time. This side of my father – this obsessive researcher, this man who had documented my entire existence – was completely unknown to me. If I had know this part of thim, that he had

A heading caught my attention, and I drew closer to look at it. It said, 'How to kill the

held it to the wall, and flipped it open. True enough, there was only enough write-up on the first page;

was in the room with me, and I didn't notice the aura that had suddenly seeped into the room's

I immediately recognized. He had stared at me like that during the Harvest Moon Festival, when everyone had bowed

forced myself to step toward him. Something about his presence felt different—darker. His aura made the hair

eyes never left mine, as if

I wondered if the blackness of his pupils

say a word to me. He just kept

sent a jolt through me, but I maintained composure and began humming a healing tone I'd

same. He kept watching me intently; if anything, the only changes I noticed were his muscles tensing and maybe his lips curling

in one fluid motion. Pressing me hard against the wall he had