CHAPTER 108: ECHOES OF THE SANCTUARY.

Angela Rivers’ scream echoed through the Sanctuary as Maren’s claws descended, the air thick with the smell of blood from her body. Pain seared her arm where the werewolf’s talons had raked her skin, but it was nothing compared to the terror gripping her heart.

Maren loomed, her snarl promising an end to Angela’s desperate quest. The spirit realm pressed closer, its cold fingers clawing at the edges of reality, blurring the line between the physical world and the ethereal void.

But then the howl pierced the air, a fierce, resonant cry that shook the trees and made the stones tremble. The moonlight-furred werewolf crashed into Maren with unbridled force, knocking the larger beast off balance. Angela’s eyes widened in disbelief as the smaller wolf’s form solidified, its movements precise, powerful, controlled. Bella.

It was Bella, fully shifted, her fur shimmering like liquid silver under the green light, her eyes blazing with a mastery that belied her age. She wasn’t the weakened child Angela had imagined; she was a force, her Moonblood heritage awakened and honed, shifting effortlessly as if the power had always been hers to command.

Bella snarled, her jaws snapping at Maren’s throat, her claws digging into the black fur with calculated precision. Maren roared in surprise, twisting to throw her off, but Bella was faster, more agile, dodging and countering with a fluidity that spoke of innate strength. Angela’s breath caught, her grief momentarily overshadowed by awe. Bella had escaped, or broken free, from whatever hold Maren had on her, her powers not suppressed but surging, ready to fight.

"Angela, get back!" Marcus growled, his voice distorted through his wolf form as he struggled to his feet, blood matting his gray fur. The remaining Moonbloods rallied, the pale gray male and the deep brown female lunging anew, their attacks coordinated now with Bella’s lead. The clearing became a maelstrom of fur, claws, and snarls, the air crackling with supernatural energy. The altar’s spiral symbol flared brighter, the ground quaking as the spirit realm threatened to swallow them all.

Angela scrambled away from the fray, her injured arm throbbing, the pocketknife lost in the dirt. She clutched Carla’s journal to her chest, her mind racing. Bella was here, alive, powerful, turning into a wolf with ease, controlling her abilities as if she’d been training for this moment. But how?

The visions from the altar had shown her bound, weakening at Whitethorn Academy. Had she broken free on her own? Angela’s paranoia spiked; nothing in this world was as it seemed, and the betrayal by Jonathan still burned fresh, his cold words echoing: "Moonbloods can’t be allowed to live."

Jonathan stood at the edge of the clearing, his human form a stark contrast to the beasts around him, his leather pouch dangling like a talisman of treachery. His eyes flicked between Maren and Bella, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "This isn’t possible," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "The powder... it should have kept her dormant."

Bella whirled, her silver eyes locking on her father for a split second, a growl rumbling from her chest that carried betrayal and fury. She didn’t hesitate, launching herself at Maren again, her claws raking deep gashes across the alpha’s side. Maren howled in pain, her form staggering, black blood splattering the stones.

The Moonbloods pressed the advantage, Marcus clamping down on Maren’s leg, the brown-furred female tearing at her flank. Bella was the linchpin, her power overwhelming, her shifts seamless as she darted in and out, exploiting every weakness.

The altar pulsed wildly, its green light intensifying, casting elongated shadows that danced like living entities. Angela felt a pull, a magnetic force drawing her toward the spiral symbol. The air shimmered around her, the spirit realm’s veil thinning further.

Maren roared, throwing off her attackers with a burst of raw power, her silver eyes glowing with rage. "You think you can challenge me, pup?" she snarled at Bella, her voice a guttural echo. But Bella didn’t falter; she circled, her form radiating control, her powers fully unleashed. With a leap, she collided with Maren head-on, their bodies a tangle of fury. Claws flashed, teeth snapped, and the air filled with the sickening sound of tearing flesh.

Jonathan stepped forward, his hand dipping into the leather pouch, pulling out a handful of the suppression powder. "Enough!" he shouted, flinging it toward Bella. The powder glittered in the green light, a cloud of poison meant to weaken, to suppress. But Bella twisted mid-air, avoiding most of it, only a few grains dusting her fur. She snarled, unaffected, her Moonblood strength too potent now to be dimmed by his tricks.

The turning point came swift and brutal. Bella feinted left, drawing Maren’s strike, then struck right, her claws sinking into Maren’s chest. Maren staggered, her form flickering as the spirit realm’s energy surged through her wounds. The alpha howled, a sound of agony and defeat, her body convulsing.

The Moonbloods piled on, Marcus tearing at her throat, the others holding her down. Maren’s silver eyes dimmed, her massive form collapsing to the ground, blood pooling around her. She shifted back to human, her sharp features pale, her breath ragged. "This... isn’t over," she gasped, her voice weak. "The clan... will come."

Bella stood over her, still in wolf form, her chest heaving. She shifted back partially, her features a blend of girl and beast, her voice a growl: "It is for you." With a final slash, she ended it, Maren’s body going limp, the light in her eyes extinguishing. The clearing fell silent, the green glow of the stones fading, the spirit realm’s pressure easing.

Angela’s legs buckled, relief and horror crashing over her. Maren was defeated by Bella’s unexpected power, by the Moonbloods’ unity. But Jonathan... he backed away, his face ashen, the pouch dropping from his hand. "Bella... you don’t understand," he stammered.

Bella turned to him, her eyes cold. "I understand enough, Father. You chose her over us. Over Mom."

Marcus shifted back to human, wincing as he clutched his side. "We need to go. Her clan will sense this."

But before Angela could respond, the altar flared one last time, a burst of green light enveloping her. She felt a tug, a whirlwind of energy pulling at her core.

"No!" She cried, reaching for Bella. But the light intensified, the world spinning. Her body felt weightless, transported through a veil of shadows and whispers.

When the light faded, Angela was no longer in the forest. She lay on her kitchen floor, the familiar scent of lavender and citrus filling the air, Carla’s sweater draped nearby from where she’d left it. Her arm throbbed, the claw marks real, bleeding onto the tiles. The journal was still clutched in her hand, its pages open to the note about the altar. Outside, the morning light filtered through the curtains, the black sedan gone, the world normal again.

But it wasn’t. Angela sat up, her heart pounding, grief and fear twisting anew. Maren was dead, the fight concluded in a blaze of Moonblood power, but Bella was still out there, in that supernatural world. And Jonathan... he was alive, his betrayal unresolved.

Angela’s paranoia lingered, the quiet of her home feeling like a fragile illusion. She had been magically sent back, spared the immediate danger, but the war wasn’t over. The Moonbloods needed her evidence, and Bella needed her protection.

She stood, wincing, and reached for her phone. Marcus’s number was still memorized. She had to call, to learn what happened after she vanished. Three months until Bella’s eighteenth birthday, now less, the clock ticking. Angela’s resolve hardened. The supernatural had touched her, transported her, but she was human, and humans endured. She would find a way back, gather the proof, and end this for good.

As she moved to dial, the air shimmered faintly, a remnant of the spirit realm’s touch. Her vision blurred, and a new image seared into her mind, unbidden, as if the altar’s power still clung to her. She saw Maren’s body lay lifeless on the Sanctuary’s stones, but then the ground pulsed, green light flaring once more.

Maren’s eyes snapped open, silver and blazing, her wounds knitting together as dark energy poured from the altar. She rose, her human form restored, her smile crueler than ever. Shadows gathered behind her, werewolf warriors, their eyes glowing, claws gleaming, a dozen or more, their fur a mix of black, gray, and red. Maren’s voice echoed in the vision: "The clan rises, and Bella will fall."

The vision shattered, leaving Angela gasping, her phone slipping from her hand. Her heart pounded as the truth sank in: Maren wasn’t dead. The spirit realm had revived her, or perhaps she’d never truly died, sustained by some ancient magic tied to the altar.

The war was far from over, it was escalating. Maren’s clan was coming, an army of werewolves bent on destroying Bella and the Moonblood lineage. Angela’s grief surged, but so did her determination. She had to protect Bella, find Marcus, and rally the surviving Moonbloods before Maren’s warriors struck.

She grabbed the journal, her bloodied arm trembling, and whispered to herself, "I’m here for you, Bella." The fight in the Sanctuary had been a battle won, but the war loomed larger, darker, and more deadly than ever.