The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 680: Last Moments

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Previously on The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven...
Draven announced Estella’s ultimatum and two-week deadline to the council, sparking shock and urgent war strategy discussions. Leaders proposed extensive protections around Meredith as the primary target, but she insisted on balanced tactics without centering the battle on her defense, refusing to remain behind. Draven appointed Dennis to oversee Stormveil in their absence, allowing refined plans to emerge. Later, Meredith trained with her grandmother to master a passive shield, though requests for fae aid were firmly rejected.

The evening prior to the battle arrived hushed beyond expectations.

The palace, fully conscious of the dawn's grim promise, refused to spiral into turmoil. Instead, an eerie peace descended upon it, as if everyone shared a silent consensus—preparations were exhausted, postponements futile.

Confronting the inevitable was all that remained.

In a private lounge, Meredith and Draven sat opposite one another, a map laid out between them. Candles flickered dimly, their glow unwavering, draping faint shadows over the table.

They had reviewed the formations two times already. Still, neither reached to fold the map.

"Should the eastern flank crumble," Meredith stated, her finger poised gently on the indicated spot, "they'll drive straight in from this point."

Draven traced her gesture. "Jeffery’s squad holds that position. He won't allow it to shatter without a fight."

"He won’t," Meredith conceded, "yet if they're gunning for me, they might not even need to."

A short hush ensued. Draven eased back a bit, his eyes moving from the map to her face. "In that case, they'll aim to cut you off."

Meredith locked eyes with him. "Yes."

Neither shied from the harsh reality.

"That's precisely why I refuse to linger behind the front lines," she continued. "Doing so would make me the focal point once more."

Draven gave a single nod. He had reached the identical deduction. "When it happens," he said after a pause, "abandon your post."

Meredith’s eyebrows furrowed faintly. "You expect me to fall back?"

"I want you to survive," he answered steadily.

She maintained his stare a moment more, then shook her head softly. "Retreating draws them after me. It just shifts the threat elsewhere."

Draven held off on rebuttal right away, knowing her logic held firm. A tranquil lull hung between them before he resumed.

"Then when things shift," he declared, tone unwavering, "we divide their attention."

Meredith grasped it at once. "You pull them in."

"And you shatter them."

The strategy lingered between them, perilous but essential.

Her lips tightened briefly, then relaxed. "That’s dangerous."

"Everything is."

True enough. Both recognized it fully.

Another quiet stretched out, gentler now. Meredith spoke next, her voice subdued. "Should something go wrong..."

Draven’s look remained fixed. "It won’t."

"If it does," she pressed on, "Stormveil takes priority."

His jaw clenched subtly, yet he let her finish.

"You don’t forsake the battle for me," she insisted. "Under any circumstances."

Draven regarded her at length before responding. "You’re telling me to disregard you."

"I’m urging you to command," she amended softly.

Those words landed with greater weight than all else spoken that night.

After a beat, he nodded sharply. "You follow suit then."

Meredith replied without pause. "I will."

Their gazes conveyed no theatrics or empty vows. Merely mutual comprehension.

Draven then stretched across the table, clasping her hand with a solid yet composed hold. "We finish this tomorrow or the day after," he vowed.

Meredith nodded. "We will."

Soon afterward, a gentle rap sounded at the door. Draven let go and called, "Enter."

The door swung open, revealing a maid who entered soundlessly. Yet both identified her instantly.

"Xamira," Meredith uttered.

The woman advanced, kneeling on one knee with her head lowered low. "Your Majesty."

She pivoted a touch, speaking to them jointly, though her attention stayed on Meredith. "I seek your approval."

Meredith’s features altered subtly. "Approval for what?"

Xamira sank deeper. "To fight at your side in this war."

A compact, weighty quiet fell, then Meredith responded, "You owe me nothing."

"I do," Xamira countered instantly. "You granted me mercy, freedom despite every cause not to. My existence is yours."

Her tone stayed resolute. "Let me settle that debt."

Meredith shared a quick look with Draven before refocusing. "Do you grasp the risk? Your life could end."

Xamira raised her head marginally. "Then I’ll give it gladly." No trace of dread colored her words, only determination.

"I’d sooner perish in repayment than survive idle."

The chamber hushed once more.

Meredith observed her a while longer, then nodded faintly. "Remain near," she instructed.

Xamira bowed profoundly. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

***

Dawn broke far too soon.

The palace awakened pre-sunrise, activity rippling through corridors as final readiness peaked.

In the chamber, Meredith cradled the twins close.

Luna lay still against her chest, while Kieran fidgeted a little, his tiny fingers clutching her garb as if detecting the shift.

Meredith gazed upon them extendedly, beyond her original intent.

A fleeting doubt surfaced—not frailty, but a profound inner tug between remaining and departing.

She shut her eyes, planting tender kisses on Luna’s brow, then Kieran’s.

"I’ll return," she murmured.

Upon reopening her eyes, resolve had banished the doubt.

Draven arrived moments later, clad head to toe in armor. The nannies bowed at once. "Your Majesty."

He gave them a curt nod before striding to Meredith. His expression warmed faintly upon the twins, and he extended a hand, caressing their heads softly.

Next, he bent to kiss each forehead. Silence sufficed.

Minutes passed, and Meredith passed the twins over with care.

She and Draven exited side by side, fingers grazing momentarily before intertwining firmly.

Beyond the walls, warriors stood arrayed. Crisp air hummed with eager tension.

Oscar advanced. "Your Majesty, Beta Jeffery and commanders have departed ahead."

Draven nodded. "Good."

At that instant, Meredith faced her grandmother, embracing her swiftly.

"Heed my lessons," the elder warned.

"I will, Grandma," Meredith assured.

"Stay focused. Avoid haste. No panicking."

Meredith nodded once more. "Guard them well."

"I shall," her grandmother promised. "Depart unburdened."

They separated then.

Draven scanned about quickly, inquiring, "Where’s my mother?"

"Inside somewhere," the old lady replied evenly. "Probably weeping. Ignore it."

Draven eyed the palace doorway briefly, then assented.

Soon, Dennis and Helena approached. Dennis clasped Draven robustly. "I’ll secure Stormveil till your return."

"I trust you," Draven said.

Helena turned to Meredith, embracing her tenderly. "Return safe, Your Majesty."

"I will," Meredith vowed.

Dennis came forward, hugging Meredith shortly before retreating with a smirk. "Employ those fae powers right this time."

He caught a playful swat on the arm.

Meredith offered a subtle smile. "Naturally, I will."

Tension lightened a touch.

March orders came at last.

Draven led with Meredith at his flank. Warriors trailing, they marched toward battle.