The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 679: War Plans & Strategies

Once more, the Grand Hall brimmed with attendees the next morning, though the air crackled with nothing but strain this time.

The gathered council of elders, Royal Alphas, Betas, and top officials wore grave faces as Draven assumed his position. Meredith remained seated next to him, composed yet vigilant with her piercing stare.

Silence descended upon the hall, prompting Draven to address them. He revealed Estella’s letter, her ultimatum, and the strict two-week limit.

Responses erupted instantly.

Stunned silence gave way to whispers, then a cacophony of voices as the gravity sank in. Such an audacious war declaration, arriving so abruptly, caught everyone off guard.

Draven permitted the uproar briefly before lifting his hand, restoring order. Strategic deliberations commenced right after.

Maps appeared on the table. Locations got debated. Defense perimeters were sketched and adjusted repeatedly, drawing on the wisdom of elders and Alphas.

Gradually, attention pivoted—from subtle hints to full fixation—onto Meredith.

Protective layers encircled her spot in the proposals. Elite sentinels dedicated exclusively to her safety. Arrays designed not merely for triumph, but to block any threat from nearing her.

One Alpha advanced. “If Her Majesty stands as the prime objective, we reinforce her surroundings. Layered defenses. Nothing approaches.”

Another chimed in, “Place her at the back, constantly encircled—”

“Double her guard detail—”

“Deploy our fiercest fighters—”

Meredith observed their exchange patiently before intervening.

“This conflict could rank among Stormveil’s bloodiest ever,” she declared, her tone slicing through the chatter.

The chamber hushed as her eyes swept over the assembly. “Centering most tactics on my safeguard guarantees defeat.”

Not a word emerged.

“And defeat spells doom not only for me,” she pressed on, “but for our troops. Our citizens.”

Her statement hung weightily. Then, resolutely, she added, “No reason to orbit every plan around me. Wage the battle properly.”

Silence lingered momentarily. An elder creased his brow faintly. “Your Majesty, respectfully—you’re the main mark.”

“Precisely why I mustn’t become a liability,” Meredith countered.

Yet another Alpha approached. “Perhaps... you ought to skip the front lines entirely.”

This idea altered the mood. Numerous heads nodded assent.

“Far safer—”

“Palace walls can shield you—”

“No cause to risk yourself—”

Meredith’s features toughened subtly. “I refuse to cower while others battle on my behalf,” she stated. “I belong in this fight. For my people, I’ll stand.”

Her unyielding delivery brooked no debate.

Quiet reclaimed the hall. No immediate rebuttals this round. Soon, fresh worries surfaced.

“Should both His Majesty and Her Majesty head to war,” an elder ventured cautiously, “who guards Stormveil’s helm?”

The query echoed. Legitimate concern rippled through, echoed by others.

“Leadership can’t vanish amid such turmoil,” one supplemented.

Draven interjected before chaos brewed. “Dennis.”

Gazes swiveled to Dennis as he advanced a step. “Your Majesty.”

“Stay in Stormveil,” Draven commanded. “Govern in our stead.”

Dennis replied without pause. “Understood.”

Resolve shone in him, devoid of doubt.

That choice diffused some strain, redirecting efforts to tactics—now equilibrated and refined.

Meredith no longer dominated every setup, yet her role stayed accounted for. Strategies dispersed power battlefield-wide, avoiding single-point clusters.

Bit by bit, a comprehensive battle scheme emerged.

—

That evening, tranquility returned to the palace.

Meredith gazed from Draven’s chamber window toward Stormveil’s far-off glows. The city slumbered obliviously to the storm brewing.

Draven approached from behind, savoring the hush before speaking. “You pressed them fiercely today.”

Meredith sighed softly. “They meant to squander troops shielding me.”

He offered no contradiction. “Protecting you drove them.”

“A path to our downfall.”

Draven drew nearer, his palm grazing her waist gently. “I hate you as their bullseye,” he murmured.

Meredith pivoted partway, locking eyes. “Nor will I skulk while you clash.”

A heartbeat of quiet. Then, gentler, she said, “If Estella’s horde hunts me, I’ll confront them.”

Draven regarded her briefly, then dipped his head. “Together, we meet her.”

That pact solidified, forging their path ahead.

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The ensuing days buzzed with purpose.

Meredith faced her grandmother anew on the palace grounds, poised and intent.

A gentle gust rustled the foliage lightly, while sunbeams danced through limbs onto the flagstones.

Serenity reigned, misleadingly so given the peril approaching.

“Time to impart a lesson. Shut your eyes,” her grandmother instructed finally.

Meredith breathed out softly, complying.

“Stay balanced, allow your abilities to surface,” the elder guided evenly. “Your strength mirrors your mindset. Restlessness scatters it; focus commands it.”

Meredith stayed mute, her breaths easing steadily.

“Refrain from grasping it,” her grandmother directed.

The advice felt odd.

“Simply exist there.”

She obeyed. Initially, only the zephyr kissed her flesh. Gradually, another essence emerged.

A serene force hummed internally, constant yet overlooked till now.

“Maintain it,” her grandmother urged.

Meredith concentrated lightly, sustaining without strain. The surrounding atmosphere quivered subtly, an understated shift.

“Well done,” the elder whispered.

Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. A potent surge lanced at Meredith.

Meredith sensed it incoming. Yet it halted abruptly before her, repelled by an unseen force.

Her lids flew open. Fleetingly, distortion warped the space ahead like mirage waves. Then vanished.

Meredith stared. “What... happened?”

“A barrier,” her grandmother answered plainly.

Meredith examined her palms, scanned her form, piecing it together. “I never stirred.”

“No need,” the elder clarified. “Reacting post-strike leaves you vulnerable.”

The insight struck profoundly.

“Once more,” her grandmother commanded.

Meredith closed her eyes sans protest, regaining that tranquil core swiftly now.

“Envelop yourself like an extra layer,” the old lady advised.

She sustained it.

The wind returned, veering faintly upon contact, guided smoothly aside.

Tested anew, the unseen ward endured.

Meredith’s poise sharpened; upon reopening her eyes, clarity reigned.

“This buys you moments to counter when they strike,” her grandmother elucidated.

Meredith inclined her head subtly. Moments later, she pleaded, “Grandma... aid us.”

The elder paused, her bearing altering faintly.

“Summon your kin,” Meredith urged. “You grasp the stakes. A handful could tip scales.”

The old lady stayed serene, replying promptly.

“No.”

Meredith furrowed her brow. “Why not?”

“Fae steer clear of this strife,” her grandmother affirmed unyieldingly.

“You foresaw the threat,” Meredith insisted. “Your own words—”

“Which mandates our absence,” the elder cut in mildly, tone brooking no dissent.

“We meddled in foreign quarrels once.” Hands poised on her cane. “The price was steep.”

Raw fact laced her words, sans sentiment.

“Hunted. Exploited. Nigh extinguished.” She paused. “Survival came from withdrawal.”

Gravity bridged them.

Meredith met her eyes lingeringly, then released a slow breath. “...Understood.”

Her grandmother nodded curtly.

“Yours to claim: war, folk, fray.” Chin rose faintly. “Yet you’ll enter armed.”

Meredith drew tall.

“Return at dawn,” the elder bid. “More awaits.”

Meredith nodded briefly, departing toward the palace.