All Chapters of Banished By The Alpha King:Claimed By The Cursed Lycan Beast: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Lucian's POVNothing worked.I sat on the edge of the bed, Elara's cold hand in mine, and watched Gwen and Gaius move around the room like ghosts. Herbs were ground. Potions were mixed. Incantations were whispered. The air smelled of sage and something bitter, something that made my eyes water.Nothing worked.Gwen pressed his palms to her temples. The runes on his staff glowed faintly, then dimmed. He shook his head."The potion is deeply woven," he said. "Her mind is fighting, but the magic is old. Strong.""Try again," I said."I have tried. The ritual requires her participation. She must want to wake. She must choose to fight." He stepped back from the bed. "I cannot force her."I looked at Elara. Her face was pale, peaceful, her white hair spread across the pillow. She looked like she was sleeping. Like she would wake at any moment, stretch, smile, ask for tea.But she did not wake.Gaius approached with a small vial of dark liquid. He tipped it to her lips. She swallowed reflexi

Elara's POVThe next door felt different before I even touched it.Cold radiated from the wood, seeping into my fingers, my palm, my wrist. The handle should have been warm like the others, but it was not. It was ice. I almost pulled my hand away. Almost walked past.But I could not, I opened the door.The memory unfolded like a wound, how did I have this memory without actually being in it?I was already away with maid Phoebe's sister, wasn't I? This was never supposed to be a memory I had.I ignored the questions that flooded my mind and concentrated on the memory.My parents' great hall. The same hall where I had played as a child, where I had hidden behind my mother's skirts when the Lycan Queen visited. But everything was different now. The light was dimmer. The air was heavier. And the girl sitting at the high table, in the seat that should have been mine, was not the Liora I remembered.She was twelve when the switch happened. Thirteen now. Perhaps fourteen. Her golden hair was

Elara's POVThe voices pulled me out of the darkness.They were faint at first, like echoes from the bottom of a deep well. Then louder. Closer. One of them was old and tired, the other younger, sharper. They were arguing about something. Herbs. Potions. Whether to try another ritual."Her pulse is weakening," the old one said."No, it is stronger. Feel it. She is fighting."I opened my eyes.The ceiling above me was made of dark wood, crisscrossed with beams. A fire crackled somewhere to my left. The room smelled of smoke and herbs and something metallic. Blood.I turned my head.Two men in the room. The older one was bent over my wrist, his fingers pressed to my pulse. His face was lined with wrinkles, his eyes tired but kind. The younger one stood at the window, his back to me, staring out at something I could not see.The older man glanced down at my face.His eyes widened. His mouth fell open."You are awake!"The younger man spun around. He crossed the room in three quick stride

Elara's POVThe battle ended faster than I expected.One moment we were surrounded, the enemy pressing in from all sides, their swords raised, their faces twisted with rage and desperation. The next, they were breaking. Running. Throwing down their weapons and begging for mercy.Darius's army had been overthrown.I stood in the middle of the chaos, my hands still glowing, my chest heaving. Blood soaked the hem of my gown. Mud caked my boots. My hair had come loose from its braid and hung around my face in tangled white strands.But I was alive. We were alive.I bent down and placed my hands on the nearest wounded soldier. A young man, barely older than a boy, with a deep gash across his chest. His eyes were glassy with pain. His breathing was shallow.The light rose from my palms, warm and gentle. I did not heal him completely—I did not have the strength for that—but I did enough. The bleeding slowed. The edges of the wound pulled together. His wolf would do the rest."Thank you, my l

Elara's POVI woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains.For a moment, I did not know where I was. The ceiling was different. The walls were different. The smell of smoke and old stone was unfamiliar. Then the memories of the previous day came flooding back. The battle. The infirmary. The kiss.I pressed my fingers to my lips and smiled.I had not slept like this in a long time. I could tell. My body felt rested, my mind clear, the exhaustion that had clung to me for days finally loosening its grip. I stretched beneath the blankets, feeling the ache in my muscles, the pull of healing wounds that were not my own.A soft knock at the door."Come in," I said.A young maid entered, carrying a tray. She set it on the table by the window—bread, cheese, a bowl of porridge, a pot of tea—and hurried out without a word. I ate slowly, savoring each bite. The food was simple but good. Warm. Comforting.When I finished, I washed my face in the basin, braided my hair, and walked down to the i