All Chapters of The Alpha's Forbidden Auction Mate : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Mira's POVThe following pages surprised me, considerably different in tone from everything we had worked through before, and I found myself smiling despite the weight of everything already revealed, as Wren's careful, formal writing gradually softened into something considerably more personal, almost unrecognizable from the grieving, methodical account of exile we had spent the previous week working through."She writes about her garden," I said, working through a passage that made Elias laugh outright, the first genuine amusement any of us had properly felt since discovering this ancient, tragic story. "Apparently she was terrible at growing anything, despite considerable effort. She complains here about her tomatoes failing three separate seasons in a row, and blames it entirely on soil quality rather than her own gardening skills.""That's oddly relatable," Elias said, something genuinely fond entering his voice."She goes on for nearly half a page about it," I added, unable to ke

Mira's POVIt happened first while I was working through one of Wren's later entries, weeks after we had finished her complete story, when I found myself returning to certain passages simply to properly understand details I had rushed through during our initial, emotional reading. I had taken to visiting the diary alone sometimes, in smaller, quieter sessions than our earlier group readings, understanding there were pieces of Wren's account that felt private enough to absorb without an audience, however sympathetic that audience had proven to be.I touched the page, focusing my attention the way I had grown accustomed to doing, and the world around me simply disappeared.Not faded, or blurred, the way I might have expected from some gentle vision. It vanished entirely, replaced by something considerably more immediate, more real than any dream or imagined scene I had previously experienced. There was no transition I could properly identify, no sense of drifting from one place into ano

Mira's POVLyra's expression grew increasingly troubled as I explained everything the final memory had revealed, and I watched her pace my study with obvious agitation, working through the implications with considerable focus. She moved the way she always did when genuinely unsettled, quick, restless steps that carried her from the window to the bookshelf and back again, as though physical motion might somehow help her properly organize thoughts too large to sit still with."The First Witch," she said slowly. "I've heard fragments of that name throughout my own studies, though never anything conclusive. Ancient references, mostly, suggesting someone existing since the earliest days of supernatural history, considerably before even Selene's own time.""You think she's still alive," Rowan said, understanding the implication immediately."I think it's entirely possible," Lyra said grimly. "Beings this ancient and powerful don't simply disappear. They withdraw, sometimes for centuries, ob

Rowan's POVWe gathered every piece of evidence we had accumulated over these past weeks, Corwin's diary, Wren's complete account, the original prophecy texts from Blackwood's own hidden collection, and spread them across my study table, understanding that somewhere within this considerable accumulated knowledge, we might finally properly understand the full scope of what actually awaited us. The table itself had grown crowded enough that we'd taken to stacking the less immediately relevant texts along the floor beneath it, an arrangement Elias had grumbled about more than once, though he'd stopped grumbling entirely once he understood how genuinely close we were to something significant."Read the original prophecy again," Mira said, gesturing toward the ancient text Adrian had first shown us months earlier, its edges considerably more worn now from months of repeated handling than they had been the day we first uncovered it. "Properly, word for word, without the assumptions everyone

Rowan's POVShe arrived three days later, at dusk, walking alone through Blackwood's main gate without escort, without any visible weapon or obvious threat accompanying her unhurried approach. The sky had turned the particular deep orange it sometimes did before the first proper frost of the season, and against that light her figure appeared first as simply a silhouette, tall and unhurried, moving with a pace that suggested she had all the time in the world and intended to use every moment of it.I had prepared for considerable danger, warriors positioned carefully throughout the grounds, Lyra standing ready with whatever protective magic she could properly muster on short notice, Elias stationed near the eastern wall with a considerable contingent held in reserve should the situation genuinely deteriorate. None of it seemed to matter, watching this single, unassuming figure approach with the particular calm certainty of someone who understood, completely, that no defense we had assem