The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 627: Saving Her King (VI)

[Third Person].

Draven did not hesitate. He retaliated instantly, speed colliding with speed.

His claws sliced through the air where her throat had been a heartbeat earlier. The impact of their blows cracked the stone beneath their feet.

They were evenly matched—at first. Draven’s movements were precise, powerful and controlled.

Estella smiled through the clash, then she disappeared. She reappeared at his flank, slashing, but he blocked it.

She disappeared once more, this time reappearing behind him and giving him a kick. He staggered but regained his balance immediately.

The hall filled with the thunder of movement too fast for the eye to follow. Pillars cracked. The throne platform splintered at the edges.

Draven narrowed his gaze. Indeed, Estella was not like the others. He had fought many vampires before, but Estella was colder, sharper, faster, and stronger.

Just then, Estella drove Draven backwards, forcing him across the hall. Every strike carried calculated cruelty.

She was pushing him toward something, toward the part of himself he refused to unleash. Right then, her voice cut through the violence. "Still holding back?"

She slammed him into a pillar, and the marble fractured. "Afraid?" she taunted.

Draven countered with a sweeping strike that forced her to leap back, but she did not relent. She intensified her attacks.

Her speed sharpened until she became a blur of violence. She struck his ribs. His shoulder. His side and blood began to stain his shirt.

Gasps rippled through the Alphas. Shock flickered across hardened warrior faces. She was dominating him.

"You’re a coward," Estella said audibly as she circled him. "You will die by my hands if you keep hiding your true self."

Draven wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "I would rather die by your hands," he answered coldly, "than do your bidding."

A dangerous pause followed, then he quickly added, "But I don’t think I’m dying by your hands today."

Her eyes darkened. "Challenge accepted."

The next second, she moved like lightning. Her nails tore through his side, then she drove her foot into his chest. The force sent him flying across the hall.

He crashed through a carved wooden table and skidded across the marble floor. Before he could fully rise, she was already there. But he rolled aside just as her claws embedded into the stone where his head had been.

She hissed. "You can use your speed," she mocked. "You always could."

Draven spat blood to the side. "In your dreams."

They collided again. This time, closer. Brutal. Claw met claw, and fist met bone. Their movements were savage now.

Estella began speaking between strikes. "You’re getting faster."

He blocked her attack.

"Your feral side is showing."

He countered her movement again.

"Careful, brother." Her smile widened mid-fight. "You’re slipping."

The words dug deeper than her claws, almost driving him to the edge.

Rhovan roared within Draven. "She is breaking your focus."

At the same time, Draven growled and struck Estella across the face with his claws. The impact snapped her head sideways, and blood streaked down her cheek.

The hall went silent for just a second before she retaliated. She seized Draven by the throat and lifted him. Her grip tightened as her nails slowly sank into his skin.

The Alphas and the Elders shifted uneasily, but the vampires surrounding them tightened their circle instantly. So, they could only helplessly watch their King being subdued.

Oscar tried to move forward, but two vampires struck him across the chest and forced him back.

"Stay where you are," one warned.

Estella lifted Draven higher, her nails piercing deeper as his boots left the ground.

"You see?" she said softly. "This is what happens when you pretend."

His hands gripped her wrist, but he still refused to let the Lycan surge take over. He refused to yield to her.

The hall felt suffocating—the King of Stormveil, helpless in his sister’s grasp.

But just then, the grand hall doors exploded inward.

The sound thundered across marble and blood as wind rushed through the chamber.

Every head turned, and there Meredith stood alone. Her purple eyes glowed bright, furious, and ancient. Her presence shifted the air itself. But most importantly, Estella felt it.

Valmora stirred violently within Meredith as she calmly took a step forward with a deadly gaze. Then, her voice carried across the hall without needing volume.

"Put him down."

For a heartbeat, the hall forgot how to breathe.

The Alphas and Elders stared at their Queen in disbelief. She had walked straight into a battlefield filled with vampires—alone.

A few of them thought she was foolish, while the rest thought her actions were reckless. Estella, however, did not look at Meredith as if she were foolish. Instead, she looked intrigued.

Slowly, almost lazily, Estella released Draven.

He dropped to one knee, coughing, one hand braced against the floor, the other pressed over his heart where her nails had pierced.

Then, he looked up at Meredith. Even injured, his gaze was warm.

"What took you so long?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Despite everything, Meredith’s lips curved faintly. "My apologies, your majesty," she replied lightly. "Unfortunately, I haven’t learned how to fly yet."

A short laugh escaped him. The sound stunned the hall. Everyone had the same thought. Was this the time and the place to crack jokes and share laughter?

Though Meredith managed a small smile, inside, her fury burned white-hot. The sight of her mate’s blood on the marble made Valmora snarl within her.

Estella tilted her head, studying her. "And who," she asked with slow fascination, "might you be, little courageous one?"

Meredith’s gaze did not waver. "Who I am can wait," she replied calmly. "There is something more important I need to take care of first."

Just then, her eyes brightened, and purple light flickered within them.

"No one," Meredith said evenly, "disgraces Stormveil’s King and lives to tell the tale."

A murmur rippled across the hall.

Estella’s smile sharpened. "What are you?" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

The question had barely left her lips when the hall suddenly changed. Metal scraped against marble. Weapons—fallen swords, spears, daggers—began to rise.

Slowly at first, then all at once.

Gasps erupted.