Semua Bab The Lycan Prince's Blood : Bab 121 - Bab 130

Lumina walks the edges of the NorthHill grounds, eyes scanning the distant tree line, anything but the house. Anything but the weight of his gaze.She tells herself she’s only here because Arwan and her wants revenge. That she doesn’t care what Theon is doing, or whether he looks for her. That she doesn’t care how the air thickens when he’s near. That she can handle this.But she can’t.Because the truth is—she feels him.Before she sees him. Before she hears him.There’s a tension in her spine now. A pulse behind her ribs. The mate bond pulling tight. Unrelenting. Unfair.She rounds the corner of the southern corridor, heading toward the overgrown side yard where the stone benches catch afternoon light. But he’s already there, leaning against one of the trees, arms crossed. Like he knew she’d come.She stops mid-step.His eyes lift slowly to meet hers. They hold there—calm, unreadable, but dark. Something underneath them that hums.She should leave. Walk away like she always does.In

The silence in the room doesn't last long.Lumina sits upright, back still stiff from sleep, eyes darting between the cloaked woman and Deborah—no, not Deborah. Bianca. The name lands heavily, like it has weight. Like it doesn’t belong in the same room as her.Bianca doesn’t blink. She doesn’t flinch. Her hands are folded calmly in front of her, as though they haven't just dropped a truth that unspools everything Lumina thought she knew. There’s something ancient in her posture. Controlled. Her expression remains flat, unreadable. She doesn’t wear guilt or apology, just certainty. Steady. Cold.“You’ve only scratched the surface of what’s inside you,” Bianca says softly.The words press into the space between them like a warning and a promise all at once.Lumina swallows, her mouth dry. “Why now?” Her voice comes out thinner than she wants. “Why lie to me all this time?”Bianca’s lips lift faintly. Not a smile. Something tighter. “Because you were not ready,” she says. “The seal was n

The battle ends without warning. One moment the clash of claws and bones shakes the ground, the next… nothing. The undead disappear like smoke sucked into the wind. Not a howl left behind. Not even a scent. As if they were never here. As if they only existed for one purpose—and now that purpose is gone.Lowell.Theon stands still, towering in his Lycan form, his chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths. His body is smeared with blood, most of it not his own. Clawed arms hang at his sides, twitching with the ghost of battle. His sharp gaze scans the open yard, but there’s no more fighting. No more screaming. No more enemies. Just the echo of what was.Hundreds of wolves lie motionless, twisted and broken. Some bodies are barely recognizable, ripped apart in ways no normal creature could have done. Ash floats in the air, mixing with dust and the faint scent of blood. The ground is littered with torn limbs, broken weapons, and silence.It doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels li

The ritual begins.The room is unnervingly quiet, so quiet that even the air seems afraid to move. The torch flames along the walls sway, not from wind, but from something deeper—an invisible force pulsing beneath the surface. Shadows stretch and shrink, cast by an unseen rhythm. The walls, cold and ancient, feel as though they’re watching.Lumina lies at the center of it all, flat on her back on a wide stone slab. Her wrists and ankles are bound tightly with thick ropes, stretched out in a helpless sprawl. The stone underneath her is freezing, every ridge of it pressing into her skin. Her limbs ache from the tension, but she barely notices. Something heavier has taken hold of her. Not pain. Not fear. Something deeper. A pull she can't fight.Her body trembles slightly. Not from cold, but from the strange buzzing under her skin. Like her blood is reacting to the room.Her eyes are half-open, blurry, unable to focus clearly. The air around her feels dense, as though soaked in magic. He

Bianca doesn’t speak at first.She stares at Lumina with that unreadable expression again—calm, collected, almost too controlled. Her eyes flick briefly across Lumina’s face, like she’s searching for something before she answers. Lumina is still slumped against the tree trunk, her body sore and buzzing from the aftershock of whatever the hell that ritual was. Her breathing is shallow, arms limp at her sides, and her lips are cracked from dryness, but her mind—her mind is racing.The silence between them stretches just a bit too long.Then Bianca finally says, quiet but certain, “If you are the last white witch… then you’re the next Queen Mother.”The words land like stone.Lumina stares at her, mouth slightly parted, but no sound comes out.Bianca doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t take it back. Her voice is steady, her eyes sharper now.“You’re the heir. That’s why they wanted you.”Lumina blinks. Once. Twice. The sounds around her blur. A bird rustles through a tree above them, but she bar