Alle Kapitel von A Luna Prize For The Twin Alphas and Their Father : Kapitel 81 – Kapitel 90

Damon's POV"Where is she?"I barked immediately as I barged into the healers' quarters, the air thick with the reek of herbs and smoke.The storm in my chest hadn't eased since the moment Alaric told me what had happened. He said Ciara had shifted, a guard was dead, and the cell she had been held in was ruined."Ciara...where is she?" My voice came out so raw that it was edged with something close to panic. "And what happened?"No one answered. Instead, the healers ducked their heads and fumbled nervously with bandages and jars.Cowards.I was almost certain Daryl had put them up to whatever insolence they were displaying.My boots struck hard against the stone floor as my gaze swept over every nurse, junior healer, and even the inner coven witches gathered near the far corridor.Daryl.I knew he had summoned them.My pulse thundered in my ears as the weight of dread pressed down with every step I took toward the chambers. I caught her faint scent mingled with ash and blood along the

Ciara's POV.The first thing I registered was silence.And no, it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence from the dungeon, broken only by the occasional drip of water. This one was cleaner, thinner, and somehow too light to be safe.The air smelled of sharp, pungent herbs, and the faint burn of incense clung to the back of my throat. When I opened my eyes, the room swayed as though I'd been dropped into someone else's body.At first, everything was white, and I could only see blurred shapes of whatever surrounded me.My skin prickled, and my bones ached as though they'd been broken and reset in ways I didn't understand.I tried sitting upright, but the ache in my head was too much, so I pressed both hands against my temples as though that would somehow soothe the pain.But I sat upright despite the ache.A figure sat in the corner, too still to be a guard. Whoever it was, she was shaped like a woman, so there was no way she was one of the guards.I blinked until the shapes sharpened in

Ciara's POVThe sound of the door creaking open tugged me out of the fog I was in.My eyes were half-shut and my body felt leaden, but I sensed her presence before I saw her.Luna Eleanor stepped inside, wrapped in layers of pale silk that seemed to swallow her frame.She looked...smaller than I remembered. Hollow, even. Her once-bright skin was waxy, her lips cracked and pale, and her eyes carried the kind of emptiness only grief could create.For a long time, she simply stood at the threshold, studying me the way someone studied a painting when they couldn't quite name what they were feeling.Finally, she drew closer, one hand trailing along the wall for balance."I shouldn't be here," she whispered in a frayed, fragile voice. "But I...I had to see you."I didn't move.My body felt too heavy for movement, and my lips were too unwilling to form words.She lowered herself into the chair beside my bed with deliberate care, as though every joint in her body ached."I am still mourning D

Daryl's POVI strolled around with my hands clasped behind my back, feeling the stiff chill of the morning seep through my coat.The burial grounds stretched wide before me, a field of stone markers standing like sentinels in the mist.Each marker told a story, a life lived, a name carved into granite or bone. Generations of Alphas and warriors were buried here, and now my father's place would be carved among them.The air smelled of damp earth and pine, heavy with the weight of history, while the mist carried the echoes of lives long past.Omegas moved in near silence, lowering the great obsidian slab that would mark my father's grave. Black banners fluttered against the gray morning, catching in the cold wind sweeping through the field.A somber quiet hung over everything, pressing against my ribs with the constant reminder of duty.My face remained still, every muscle controlled, though inside, a storm churned.People moved around me, bowing their heads and murmuring words of stren

Damon's POVThousands of wolves filled the clearing, their heads bowed low in mourning. The wind was still, and even the usual hum of the forest felt muted, as if it too mourned my father's passing.At the center of the burial grounds rested my father's coffin. Polished black oak, carved with the crest of BlackThorn, it seemed almost unnatural in its perfection. Smoke from the funeral pyres at the edge of the clearing curled faintly into the gray sky. The flames had died to little more than smoldering trails of ash, but the scent of burnt wood and earth clung to the air, bitter and heavy.I stepped forward and climbed the platform, the whispers of the pack fading as my boots tapped against the wood. As King Donovan's eldest son, the eulogy fell to me, and I gripped the stand before me, my fingers digging into the wood as if I could hold onto some fragment of control. The words I had written in neat lines of tradition and honor felt alien in my mouth, and my throat tightened as I prepa