บททั้งหมดของ The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

The child arrived at twilight.Not through the gates.Not with guards.But alone, barefoot, pale, and silent, as the sun bled into the clouds above Moonstone Keep. The sentries didn’t see him approach. One blinked, and he was simply there, standing at the outer courtyard in a black velvet cloak stitched with silver-threaded moons.He could not have been older than ten.But his eyes....They did not belong to a child.Kael was the first to intercept him.Steel drawn, stance guarded, he stared down at the boy with tension coiled in every muscle.“State your name.”The child blinked.Then smiled, a soft, unsettling thing.“My name is Varien.”Kael frowned. “And what are you doing here?”The boy tilted his head, voice calm as glass.“I’ve come to speak to Queen Elara.”“And why would a child be granted audience with the Queen?”Varien’s expression sharpened, just for a second.“I am her heir,” he said. “And Lucien’s blood.”The entire Keep descended into chaos.Elara read the report in si

They called it Nyxvalen in the oldest tongue, the Night of Unmasking.A once-in-a-century celestial convergence where the sun and moon aligned so precisely, even magic could no longer lie.During the Eclipse Ceremony, no illusion could hold. No enchantment could bind. Every supernatural creature would be revealed in their truest form, body, soul, and legacy bared under the Eye of the Veil.In past ages, rulers had used it to solidify pacts, expose traitors, and bind bloodlines.This time?It would expose something far greater.And Elara would stand at the centre of it.The day arrived veiled in silence.No birds sang.No wind stirred.The sky dimmed prematurely as the sun took on a dull, copper hue. Priests and seers lit sacred fires across the land, burning silks and oils meant to purify memory and soul.At Moonstone Keep, thousands gathered in the high courtyard.Vampires in ceremonial armor.Lycan lords in their true forms, barely restrained.Witches were painted in ancestral ash.

It had no name on any modern map.The ancients had called it Kaer Nyx, the Midnight Fortress, a monolith of moonstone carved from the spine of the world, hidden high in the obsidian mountains where the stars bled closest to the earth.The fortress had once belonged to the first Moon-blooded Queens.It had witnessed the rise of gods.The fall of dynasties.The sealing of the first Veil.And now.!It would host the final stand.They arrived at twilight.Elara rode at the head of the column, her flame-armoured steed kicking up snow-dusted ash. Behind her stretched the vast, fractured army of Eldoria, Lycans, vampires, witches, outcasts, and the reluctant banners of the Raven Court.Above them, the Veil shimmered like torn silk.A storm brewed on the other side.Kaer Nyx rose before them like the bones of a sleeping god — white stone veined with silver; towers etched in runes too old to decipher. The great gates were not iron, but weapons turned to peace — ancient blades melted into a sin

The sky broke before the walls did.It wasn't thunder. It wasn’t flame. It was a soundless shatter, like celestial glass being dragged across the heavens, invisible but deafening in its omen. The clouds twisted into a jagged spiral, revealing a dark rift opening wide above Eldoria’s once-proud capital, a city known for its soaring spires, echoing music halls, and a sky full of stars.Now?Now it trembled. Shaken to its foundation beneath a war already unfolding.At dawn, the Watchers of Eldoria lit the eastern flame beacon, a signal etched in ancient protocol, one that had not been used in a hundred years. A warning. An alarm. The sign of invasion.But no enemy battalion crested the hill. No cavalry sounded their charge.This enemy came as a shadow.It oozed from the Veil like ink spilled across a map, dark and formless, crawling over the landscape in a storm of night. Creatures twisted by Morvani’s insatiable hunger, their forms broken and bound by curses so old they predated written

The battlefield lay in an eerie silence, no triumph, no solace. The silence was heavy, burdened with the weight of devastation and the finality of lives lost. This was not peace. It was the grim stillness that follows the fiercest storm, the aftermath that no soul could escape.Ash drifted slowly through the air, like pale feathers falling from a wounded sky. The horizon was jagged with ruin, the shattered remnants of Eldoria’s once-proud skyline etched against the bruised dawn. Smoke curled upward in thin, ghostly wisps, twisting through the cold air as if mourning alongside the living.Above all, the Veil had sealed. The sky no longer bled streaks of fire or despair. Yet the land beneath bore scars that time could never fully heal.And in this fractured world stood Elara, barefoot and unyielding, on the crumbled steps of Kaer Nyx. The ancient temple ruins whispered of old prayers, of moonlit vows once spoken beneath starlit sanctuaries. Now, there were no prayers. Only the weight of