All Chapters of Rejected Luna of The Cursed Alpha: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The heavy oppression of silence that gripped the High Hall of Valemont seemed to stretch taut as a bowstring, all air held in suspension in the high arches of the vaulted ceiling.On the long oak council table covered in war maps and iron chalices, thirty war captains and five elders were watching us. And yet all my attention was focused on the woman standing close to the alcove.Mother Kiran. The Custodian of the Moonstone.She was visibly aged since my rejection as the pack’s Luna. Loose and baggy, her deep blue robes, patterned with waxing moons of the sacred order, hung off her bent frame. With shaking and liver-spotted hands, she was clutching the ceremonial willow staff with the polished silver casing for the pack's divine relic.The moment our eyes met, the ancestral Tear of Elyra, resting in my necklace, sent a wave of bright and painful clarity.I noticed that her fear was not a regular fear that threatened the Custodian. It was the stench of pure guilt, of vile and rotten fe

I stayed where I was near the alcove, standing still, dressed in the dark robes of the royal court. Draven loomed behind me in his iron-dark figure, watching the destruction with detached lethal amusement through his dark eyes. Through my mental barriers I could feel the storm of Serena’s thoughts, she was a cornered beast snapping wildly in every direction.Serena froze and inhaled sharply, her eyes turning to me from murderous hatred. "Do not dare speak to me, you miserable parasite. You don’t know my pain…""I know the scent of dried fever-root and shadow-leaf," I interrupted, stepping closer until there was a small distance between us. My Emotional Sync brushed against her core, showing me the decades of calculated lies she wove to survive. "For two years before my selection while the council was searching for a fertile bride to ensure the line of the Alpha, you were drinking the tea of the black-spore thistle on every full moon. You cried before Kael, you cried before the elders

The damp stone cell froze mid-breath, the chill of the air growing brittle and icy with the sound of Patrick’s insane laughter bouncing off of the crying granite."Silence," Draven ordered.It wasn’t a roar. It didn’t come with any raised blades. But the weight of his voice fell over the room like the iron portcullis coming down. The temperature plunged once more, frost covering the damp walls of the stone prison and frosting the links of Patrick’s chains. Patrick choked on the next breath, his smirk contorting on his face with the crushing weight of the sovereign’s suffocating dominance pressing into his lungs."We know that the bloodline of Elyra sealed the curse on my ancestors in the First Age," Draven continued coldly, stepping into the personal space of the towering rogue until Patrick was forced to crane his neck backwards in order to look into his eyes. "Give me something that will keep you alive for another hour, old wolf. The history of the curse that plagues my bloodline is

Meanwhile, three floors above the war room, in the cold isolation of the western tower, the iron key turned in the heavy lock.The door creaked open, showing the small, stony chamber where Serena was deprived of her silk and fox furs, wearing only a simple woolen shirt. The pearl combs she wore before the council were taken away, leaving her golden locks in tangled, greasy strands framing her pale, sunken face. Her eyes were bloodshot, flashing the frantic fury of the desperate predator pacing restlessly between the narrow window and the iron-framed bed.The figure slipped past the door of the tower and disappeared inside the small room, dressed in the cloak of the kitchen servant carrying the evening portion of rough bread and broth.The guard stationed at the door pulled it closed, cursing the draft, indifferent to the routine delivery.Inside the dim chamber, the servant placed the wooden plate with food on the rough wooden table but did not turn to leave. Instead, he slowly reache

She turned back to Draven, and her eyes widened in reverent dread."The sin of the First Age has come to claim its debts, son of the northern throne," Morwen whispered, and her voice dropped into the cadence of the ancient times that seemed to darken the torchlight around us. "Your ancestors believed they could stamp the ancient bloodlines under the iron boots and wash their hands clean from the crime. But when they attacked the lineage of Elyra, they sealed an eternal curse onto themselves."A sick dread formed inside my stomach.Around the table, the war captains stared in horror and disbelief."The Lorekeeper was right, Draven," Morwen continued, taking a cautious step toward Draven and pointing a crooked finger directly at his chest. "Your line wasn't stricken by some random demon. The First Nullifiers have put their retribution into the very marrow of your dynasty. They have crafted an everliving curse, an act of punishment designed to invert the soul of your royal beast, feeding