The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 498: It’s Time

[Third Person].

Everyone gathered again in the vast living area as dusk settled fully outside.

The space felt warmer now, lit by oil lamps hung low and candles set into carved niches along the walls.

The room wasn’t grand, but it breathed history—woven mats layered over stone floors, low cushions arranged in a loose circle, and short-legged wooden tables placed carefully in front of each guest.

Meredith sat beside Draven this time, close enough that their shoulders brushed when they settled.

Dennis took a seat across from them, Jeffery beside him, while Azul and Deidra sat slightly back, respectful but included.

Meredith’s grandmother occupied the head space—not elevated, but naturally commanding, her presence alone anchoring the room.

Just then, servants moved in quietly, setting bowls and plates onto the low tables.

The first spread was modest but fragrant: steamed roots glazed in herbs, flatbread still warm from the hearth, slow-cooked vegetables seasoned with unfamiliar spices, and bowls of grain mixed with berries and nuts.

Clay cups of deep-purple plum wine followed, their sweetness noticeable even before tasting.

Dennis stared at the table, then stared a little longer. His expression tightened.

Meredith’s grandmother tilted her head slightly in his direction, clearly aware.

"You look displeased," she said calmly. "Is my food lacking?"

Dennis stiffened. "No—no, ma’am. Not at all." He straightened, forcing a polite smile. "It looks... very healthy."

Jeffery bit down hard on his lip. Draven lowered his gaze, shoulders shifting once as if suppressing a reaction, while Meredith hid her smile behind her cup.

The old woman studied Dennis for a long second, then lifted her hand and gave a small, deliberate signal to one of the servants.

Moments later, the scent hit first.

Several new dishes were carried in—platters of roasted chicken, skin crisped over open firewood, herbs charred into the meat, juices still sizzling faintly.

Meredith recognized it instantly, and her breath caught before she could stop herself.

"Fire-roasted," she said softly, a smile pulling at her lips. "You still make it the same way."

Her grandmother’s mouth curved, just barely. "Some things are not meant to be changed."

On the other hand, Dennis’s entire demeanour transformed. He leaned forward, eyes lighting up, all restraint gone.

"Now this," he said reverently, already reaching for a piece.

No one stopped him.

As the servants finished arranging the dishes, Meredith’s grandmother began to explain each one—where the herbs were grown, how long the grains were soaked, and why certain foods were paired together.

This wasn’t just a meal; it was a lesson, a quiet insistence on intention.

Everyone ate slowly at first, tasting one dish at a time. Draven was visibly surprised, his posture easing as he sampled the food.

"I’ve never eaten anything like this," he admitted quietly to Meredith.

She smiled at him, warm and knowing. "Then enjoy it while we are here."

Just then, her grandmother’s voice cut gently through the hum of the room. "The plum wine is sweet," she warned, "but do not be deceived. It carries more bite than it admits."

Dennis nodded enthusiastically and promptly ignored the warning. He poured himself another cup, drinking with obvious pleasure, head bobbing in approval.

"This," he declared, "is dangerous."

The old woman merely hummed.

Laughter lingered softly in the air, but beneath it, Meredith felt the pull of the night tightening, like the world itself was waiting.

---

Thirty minutes later, Dennis had clearly passed the point of moderation.

He leaned back against his cushion, plum wine cup loosely cradled in his hand, cheeks faintly flushed, eyes too bright.

He glanced around the room again, then laughed softly to himself before turning his attention back to Meredith’s grandmother.

"I still don’t get it," he said, gesturing vaguely around him. "A place like this—quiet, hidden, full of... whatever this is." He waved his cup again. "How did I not know it existed until now?"

The room stilled, just a fraction. Meredith felt it before anyone else did.

But her grandmother did not bristle or scold. She simply turned her head slightly toward Dennis, her expression unreadable, and her voice calm.

"Not everything is meant to be discovered," she said. "Some things are meant to be found only when the time is right."

Dennis blinked. "That sounds like a riddle."

"It is," she replied without hesitation.

Jeffery cleared his throat. Draven, meanwhile, sat a little straighter. There was something in the old woman’s tone that tugged at him—not vague, not drunken nonsense, but layered. Intentional.

He had the strange sense that her words were not meant just for Dennis.

Dennis, undeterred, leaned forward again. "So what, this place just hides itself until it decides someone’s worthy?"

Jeffery stood abruptly. "Alright, that’s enough," he said, already reaching for Dennis’s arm. "My apologies, ma’am. He’s had too much to drink."

But before Jeffery could pull Dennis up, the old woman lifted her hand.

"Let him be."

Jeffery froze for a moment.

"It is a full moon night," she continued calmly. "The moon influences more than wolves realize. Especially those who talk too much when they drink."

Dennis frowned, trying to process that. Jeffery looked confused. Draven exchanged a glance with Meredith, but she kept her gaze lowered, lips pressed together.

To everyone else, the statement sounded like an old woman’s adage—mystical, harmless, easily dismissed.

But to Meredith, it landed with weight.

Dinner resumed after that, quieter but not tense. Plates were slowly cleared, bowls emptied. Even Dennis eventually focused on his food again, happily distracted.

Laughter faded into contentment, and one by one, the servants began to tidy the tables.

Meredith felt the night pressing closer—the full moon.

She lifted her gaze instinctively toward the open side of the room, where pale silver light spilt faintly across the stone floor.

Draven leaned closer to her, his voice low. "Since it’s a full moon night," he murmured, "we should take a walk. It’s too beautiful not to."

At that instant, her breath caught in her throat. ’Why would Draven want to take a walk right now?’ She thought to herself.

And for a heartbeat, panic surged, but she masked it quickly, schooling her expression into something casual.

"I feel too heavy after eating," she said lightly. "I don’t think a walk is a good idea right now." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Draven smiled, unconvinced. "That’s exactly why you should walk."

Her mind raced. If she left with him and her grandmother later called for her, how would she explain her disappearance?

And if Draven was awake when she left him, he wouldn’t sleep. He would wait.

Just then, Meredith felt Valmora stir, sharp and alert. "Don’t stall. Excuse yourself. Redirect him. Now."

Meredith exhaled softly. "I should use the restroom first," she said. "And honestly, we can admire the moon from our room. The window faces the clearing."

Draven studied her for a moment, then chuckled. "You’ve really worked hard to escape this walk."

She forced a smile. "I will make it up to you another night."

After a beat, he nodded. "Alright."

Dinner ended soon after. Everyone stood and offered their good nights. Meredith’s grandmother accepted them with quiet grace, her stick steady in her hand.

As Meredith turned to leave with Draven, her steps paused. Her grandmother’s voice brushed against her mind, clear and unmistakable.

"Don’t sleep, my child."

Meredith’s fingers tightened around her dress as her nerves began to kick in slowly.

***---***

[Meredith].

Back in the bedroom, I tried to act normal.

The room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp near the window. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtain, silver and heavy, pressing against the walls as if the night itself were waiting.

Draven moved around the room with ease, loosening his shirt, stretching once before sitting on the edge of the bed, completely forgetting all about the moon view.

I sat beside him, my hands folded too tightly in my lap as my grandmother’s voice lingered in my mind, soft but insistent like a clear pull—ancient and familiar.

Right then, Valmora stirred sharply within me.

"It’s time," she said, completely restless, pacing like a wolf trapped under skin. "The moon is high. The seal is thin."

My pulse quickened.

I lay back slowly, turning on my side, pretending to settle. Draven lay beside me moments later, one arm draping over my waist out of habit.

His breathing was steady, but I knew him well enough to tell he wasn’t asleep yet.

The silence stretched. Then, minutes later, her voice came again, stronger this time, unmistakable.

"Come outside, Edith. Now. It’s time."

I inhaled quietly and shifted, easing Draven’s arm away from me. The mattress dipped slightly as I sat up.

"Meredith?"

I completely froze. The only sound that filled my head right now was my heartbeat. ’Wait a minute. Draven wasn’t asleep yet?’

Draven’s voice was low, thick with sleep but alert enough to make my heart stumble. I turned to face him.

The moonlight caught in his eyes as he watched me sit there, already halfway out of bed.