The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 685: [SPECIAL - ]

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Previously on The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven...
Rosalie unexpectedly appeared on the battlefield and confronted her daughter, Estella. Rosalie pleaded with Estella to end the war, revealing she knew Estella's motivations stemmed from revenge for her suffering. After learning Randall was dead, Rosalie urged Estella to stop, but Estella refused, vowing to eliminate all werewolves. Rosalie then seemingly made a difficult choice, striking Estella down. The war abruptly ended as Estella died in her mother's arms, leaving Draven and Meredith victorious but somber.
Five years had elapsed since the conflict. Stormveil was no longer permeated by fear; the Great Wall stood as a silent, steadfast guardian. The palace, once a hive of strategic tension, had transformed into a warm, lived-in space, brimming with activity. This transformation was most striking in the inner courtyard that crisp morning. "Luna, no—!" A cascade of laughter quickly followed the exclamation. Meredith stood near the stone pathway, one hand on her hip, observing her daughter as she raced across the courtyard, a faint luminescence held between her fingers. The light pulsed and shifted hues with Luna's movements, her silver hair catching the sunlight with every stride. "I told you not to do that near the fountain," Meredith called out, though the tenderness in her voice belied any true disciplinary intent. Luna merely giggled, her pace quickening. Behind her, two attendants scrambled to keep up, their earlier decorum abandoned. "Princess, please slow down—!" "Catch me first!" Luna retorted without hesitation. A splash echoed through the courtyard. Meredith closed her eyes, anticipating the scene before even looking. "…of course." Upon opening her eyes, she saw Luna standing ankle-deep in the fountain, captivated by the glowing ripples she had created in the water, thoroughly engrossed in her own feat. Nearby, a low growl drew Meredith’s attention. Kieran was crouched by a stone pillar, his small hands clutching a once-neat ceremonial sash. He tugged at it with determined effort, even attempting to use his teeth, as if that would enhance his success. "Kieran," Meredith called. He looked up instantly, then, with deliberate slowness, concealed the sash behind his back. Meredith arched an eyebrow. Kieran turned and attempted to walk away with an air of quiet dignity, as if nothing had occurred. She nearly chuckled at his little charade. Before she could speak further, a familiar voice, calm and perceptive, came from behind her. "Your son possesses excellent instincts." Meredith glanced over her shoulder as Draven approached, his presence as solid as ever, his gaze already fixed on Kieran, who was now dragging the sash behind him as he made his escape. "You’re encouraging him," Meredith stated. "I am merely recognizing potential," Draven responded nonchalantly. Kieran, taking this as an endorsement, immediately bolted. Meredith sighed. "See what you've done?" "He will return when hunger strikes," Draven said matter-of-factly. From the fountain, Luna’s voice rang out, "I’m hungry!" Meredith blinked, then looked at Draven. He allowed himself a subtle, pleased smile. "That’s one." — Breakfast commenced with its usual delightful chaos. Luna insisted on seating herself beside her great-grandmother, enthusiastically recounting her earlier exploit with dramatic flair. "I nearly turned the water into pure light!" she proclaimed. "You didn't nearly," the old woman corrected gently. "You did. You simply lost command of it halfway." Luna's eyes widened in astonishment. "Really?" "Indeed." "I did it!" she exclaimed, beaming with delight. Rosalie chuckled softly, her expression open and radiant in a way that still felt fresh, even after all this time. A profound peace now settled upon her, deeply rooted and genuine, evident in her quiet smiles. "You certainly did," Rosalie added warmly. Across the table, Kieran had set his sights on a new target: Draven’s cup. He reached for it. Without looking, Draven subtly shifted it out of reach. Kieran paused, then reached again, only for Draven to move it once more. Kieran narrowed his eyes. Meredith leaned towards him gently. "That one isn't for you." Kieran regarded her, then the cup, and finally Draven. A faint pulse of power emanated from him, and the cup quivered. Draven's brow rose slightly, and he let out a soft chuckle. "Already?" Meredith shook her head, a smile already gracing her lips. "You are both impossible." Rosalie laughed again, a softer sound this time, clearly savoring each moment. "Let them be. This is how it ought to be." From the side, Dennis leaned back in his chair, observing the scene with amusement. "I believe they've already surpassed us at this age." Helena, seated beside him, nodded in agreement, her hand resting gently on her belly; she was five months pregnant. She smiled as she watched Luna half-climb onto Meredith’s lap, attempting to explain something utterly nonsensical. "I'm not prepared for that," Dennis added hastily. "You won't have a choice," Meredith replied without missing a beat.

Laughter erupted around the table, uninhibited and sincere, filling the chamber with an effortless and well-deserved warmth.

The remainder of the day continued in the same vein.

The palace buzzed with life. Conversations flowed with ease, footsteps echoed without apprehension, and for the first time in a long while, there was no palpable threat lurking beyond the castle walls.

There was only serenity.

—

As evening descended, the atmosphere mellowed into a more tranquil state.

Within the palace grounds, a small, significant spot had been prepared. It served as a place of honor, where departed souls were commemorated not with despair, but with deep gratitude.

Meredith stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Draven, her hand finding comfort in his. Those dear to them were present—Dennis and Helena, Rosalie, and Meredith’s own grandmother—each offering quiet homage.

A gentle breeze stirred the area, bestowing a profound sense of peace.

"To all who stood with us, and to those who sacrificed all... we remember you," Meredith stated, her voice soft yet unwavering.

There were no elaborate eulogies or prolonged displays of grief. Only reverence and heartfelt acknowledgement.

The ensuing silence was heavy with meaning. After a pause, Draven let out a quiet breath, his gaze fixed ahead.

"It remains a puzzle how Xamira's remains were never recovered following the war."

Meredith remained silent for a moment, her eyes wandering towards the distance, where the setting sun painted the horizon with its fading light.

A subtle, knowing smile touched her lips. "Let us hold onto the hope that she is thriving and will soon find her way back home," she replied, her tone serene and assured.

At that precise moment, the wind whispered through them once more, soft and intimately familiar.

THE END!!!