All Chapters of Her thirst for vengeance: Chapter 881 - Chapter 890

Ivonne's povAhead of us, Larry had both hands raised toward the sky. Icould see the dark magic crackling around him, coalescing into a shimmering, vortex-like portal that would tear them both out of this realm and drop them somewhere I could never follow. The portal was building slowly, which told me the magic was taking a massive physical toll on him, he was already severely depleted from fighting off Hector and Thorin simultaneously. But it was building.Alison was almost within his reach, I was almost within hers, and the math was running out.Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet.She was a mere three feet from her father’s outstretched hand when she abruptly slammed her feet into the ground and stopped dead in her tracks.I had been sprinting so hard, fully focused on tackling her from behind, that her sudden stop nearly caused me to crash straight into her. I skidded on the loose gravel, pulling up short and off-balance.Slowly, Alison turned around to face me.I had expected to see

Ivonne’s POVThe Oracle moved like she was performing a ritual.That was the absolute first thing I noticed, not what she was actually doing with her hands, but the sharp, striking quality of how she moved across the blood-soaked cobblestones.The Oracle was always precise, always deliberate, carrying herself with an ancient, unshakeable calm. But this was something entirely beyond her usual demeanor.This was the urgent, unyielding movement of someone who had been quietly waiting for a specific, impossible moment to arrive, and who had just recognized its sudden, terrifying appearance. Every single step she took was purposeful in a way that bypassed the immediate chaos of the courtyard and connected directly to a heavy secret she had been carrying in silence for months."Back," she commanded. Her voice wasn't raised, but it carried a sharp edge that sliced through the lingering noise of combat. She gestured at the warriors standing nearest to Alison's motionless body. "Everyone step

Ivonne's povThe Oracle immediately dropped back to her knees beside Alison's still body. She held the delicate glass jar tightly in both hands, resting it directly over the center of Alison's chest. She closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, and began to chant.The words she spoke were in the ancient, forgotten dialect of the First Lycans—a deep, melodic language that seemed to resonate with the very stone beneath our feet. Her voice rose into the cool night air, carrying a strange, reverberating vibration that made the surrounding atmosphere feel electric, as if the physical boundaries of the courtyard were dissolving around us.Nobody moved. Nobody dared to blink.Inside the glass jar, the golden light began to pulse faster.At first, the change was subtle, there was a soft, gentle warming of the glow, a slightly faster movement of the magical ember swirling within. But as the Oracle's chant grew louder and more insistent, the light intensified exponentially.The golden wa

Ivonne’s POVThe air in the ruined courtyard was still thick with the metallic tang of blood, ozone, and the lingering residue of Larry’s dark magic.Yet, despite the destruction around us, a fragile, miraculous hush settled over our group. Chelsea stood rooted to the cobblestones, supported gently by Elara and Thorin . She was looking at her own hands, Allison’s elegant, pale hands, flexing the slender fingers with a quiet, disbelieving awe.Hector stepped forward, his heavy boots grinding against the loose gravel. His face was a raw canvas of overwhelmed emotions, grief, shock, and a profound, lingering relief that had been months in the making. He didn't say a word.He simply reached out and pulled Chelsea into a fierce, protective embrace, gathering her tightly against his broad chest.She had been his fated mate. For years, even through their painful separation and her tragic death in the garden, that ancient, divine connection had tethered them together.As Hector locked his arm

Ivonne's povI turned the page, my heart racing as I saw the next section.“My true biological line,” Archibald had written, “did not end with my wife’s passing. Because years ago, when the war with Larry’s family reached its bloodiest peak, my biological son was born. But the dark factions were hunting my family. They were slaughtering children and women to erase competing bloodlines. And my fathed mate... My dear beloved love was lost to that war. But she had left our newly born son behind. And To save his life, I made the most agonizing choice a father can make: I placed my infant son in a human adoption center on in the northern realm. And as you may now know, HE... is the father of my darling dear granddaughter.”I gasped, my eyes skimming the frantic, passionate handwriting on the page.“I did not abandon him,” Archibald wrote, the ink pressed so hard into the paper it had nearly torn the parchment. “I watched over him from the shadows for decades. I ensured he was safe, loved,