Semua Bab Alpha's Eclipse: Bab 121 - Bab 130

LIRAThe dining room had never felt so full.Laughter mixed with the sound of soft weeping as arms reached across the table, pulling loved ones close after years of separation. My mother, Seraphina, hadn’t let go of my hand since I entered the room, and I didn’t mind. I didn’t think I ever would. Sixteen years. She had been gone for sixteen years, and yet the warmth in her embrace was as familiar as it had always been in my dreams.But she wasn’t the only one who had returned.Dain—her loyal Beta, our protector in Valenwood—stood at the other end of the table, tears slipping silently down his weathered cheeks. In his arms was a young woman, probably the same age as me, teary eyes—his daughter, Elowen. Beside them stood Deanna, Dain’s sister, holding them both as if letting go would break her all over again.They were real. Here.Alive.“Where… where have you been?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t stop staring at my mom. She looked older than I remembered—there wer

THOREN The dirt path that led away from Grimhowl wound like a lazy river through the thick woodland, eventually opening up to reveal a sight that should’ve brought comfort—quaint homes, flowering vines curling over wooden fences, laundry lines swaying gently in the breeze. But as we stepped past the old stone sign that marked the village of Enoménos, unease settled heavily over my shoulders. It was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, the kind you find in a small village taking an afternoon nap. No birds, no dogs barking in the distance, no chatter of children or clang of pots in kitchens. Just... nothing. Ronan, walking beside me, scanned the rooftops with narrowed eyes. His fingers flexed at his sides, brushing the hilt of his blade. “This place is dead,” he muttered.“No,” Elias said behind us, his voice low. “It’s not dead. It’s hiding.” He wasn’t wrong. The village wasn’t destroyed. There were no signs of struggle—no broken doors, no burn marks or blood on t

THOREN Ysara’s words clung to the air like a spell. “Yes, I am a Bloodseer, and only few of us are left. I’m the only one in Enomenos. We are not simply part witch and part wolf—we are two complete souls living as one. One soul bound to the craft of magic, the other to the wildness of the wolf. Balanced. Powerful. But vulnerable to corruption. And once turned, a Bloodseer becomes the perfect servant of darkness.” Her voice held both strength and sorrow. For all her wisdom, there was weight behind every word—weight that had settled into her bones from carrying the burden of truth for far too long. Her gaze drifted across the room, landing briefly on Kora, then Ronan, and finally me. “That is why I remain hidden,” she continued. “I'd rather die righteous than live twisted. But these people…” she gestured subtly to the villagers gathered in the shadows, “they need me. So I walk a thin edge.”I swallowed hard, the scent of smoke and ancient herbs thick in the cavern air. The fir

ELIAS The warmth of the dining hall clashed with the tension humming beneath my skin. We’d only just returned—Thoren, Ronan, Kora, and I—bringing news from the nearby village. We hadn’t been gone long, but in war, every hour stretched thin. Every moment was weighted. And yet, in the middle of it all, I found myself rooted in place—not by dread, not by urgency—but by a scent. I froze near the entrance, my breath catching. It drifted through the air, cutting through the aromas of roasted meat, earth, and fire. This scent was different. Unmistakable. Fresh rain on wildflowers. Sweet… and wild. Mate. My head snapped toward the far end of the hall. And that’s when I saw her. She stood beside Dain, half-shielded by the curve of his arm. Her gaze was already on me. Wide-eyed. Curious. Like she felt it too. No—she knew. The world narrowed. Sounds dimmed. I took a step forward before I even realized I was moving. My heart thundered in my chest as I closed

MORGANA The moment I stepped out of the war room, scroll clutched tight to my chest, I felt the weight of centuries settle on my shoulders like a cloak spun from memory and magic. The Map of the Bloodseer. I had heard of it in whispers—in forgotten tomes and fragmented chants. A myth, they claimed. A tale told by seers too old to trust and too mad to be believed. But it was real. Right in my hands, pulsing faintly with the tangled threads of fate itself. This could be the turning point in the war. Or a trap we were too desperate to ignore. I moved quickly through Grimhowl’s stone halls, ducking into the small chamber I’d claimed as my study. Candles flared to life with a flick of my fingers. Runes on the walls shimmered, reacting to the old magic now saturating the space. I laid the map out carefully across the old table, heart pounding not with fear—but with urgency. Because this time, it was personal. My hands hovered over the parchment, and I whispered an incan