A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 387

Chapter 387

Freya stood motionless, her breath caught in a tangled web of sorrow and remorse as she faced the cold stone emblem marking the final resting place of her parents within the Ashbourne Legion’s Hall of Martyrs. The early morning wind swept harshly across the cliffside memorial, carrying with it the faint, metallic scent of ancient battles and sanctified blood that lingered like a ghost from the past.

Her eyes dropped to the carved runes etched deep into the stone, bearing the names of Arthur and Myra—her father and mother—valiant warriors of the Stormveil Pack’s Fifth Branch, steadfast guardians of the northern frontier.

Her voice was barely a whisper, yet the pain threaded through it cut sharper than any blade she had ever known.

“I’m sorry… for everything. And I’m sorry, Mom and Dad.”

Despite the venomous slurs hurled by Jenny Williams against her parents, despite the relentless efforts of the Williams girl to drag her family’s honor through the mud, Freya found herself bowing her head in quiet submission, forced to endure the weight of disgrace alone, pleading for a peace that tasted bitter and hollow on her tongue.

It was a humiliation she neither deserved nor wanted.

Still, she knelt there, shoulders heavy with the burden, isolated in her grief.

When Freya and Parker finally emerged from the Hall of Martyrs, the sun was already dipping behind the jagged ridges, casting long shadows across the landscape. Together, they made their way to their armored WolfComm rover, preparing for the long journey back to The Capital.

Halfway along the winding forest road, Parker’s communicator buzzed sharply with the unmistakable triple-pulse signal of a Williams Family priority call.

He answered without hesitation.

Moments later, the color drained from his face, his expression tightening with unease.

Ending the call, Parker turned to Freya.

“Everett… he wants to see us as soon as we get back to the city.”

Freya blinked, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Us?”

“Yes,” Parker replied, his face unreadable. “He wants to see you, too.”

A low growl stirred beneath Freya’s skin, her wolf responding instinctively to the tension, a cold fire igniting in her veins. Yet she inhaled deeply, forcing herself to remain composed.

“That’s fine. I was going to meet him eventually.”

Her gaze sharpened as she looked at Parker. “But what about you? Which identity will you present to Everett? Parker or Eric?”

Parker was silent for a long moment, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but carried the heaviness of old wounds.

“Back then… the Williams matriarch saved my life. Without the treatment she arranged, I wouldn’t have survived more than a month. My illness was too far gone.”

Freya listened quietly, shadows from the forest flickering over his face.

“But later,” he continued, “the old matriarch became convinced I was Everett’s son. Maybe because when Everett was young, he and I looked almost identical.”

Freya’s brow furrowed sharply.

“But you’re not. A single blood test confirmed that.”

“Yes,” Parker said, tightening his lips. “The Williams Family knew the truth. All of them. But no one dared tell her. She had already lost her daughter years ago. Her mind… it wavers between clarity and confusion. Revealing the truth would have shattered her completely.”

Freya exhaled slowly, absorbing his confession.

“So you became Everett’s illegitimate son,” she said quietly.

Parker nodded once.

“I agreed to it. The Williams Family saved me—I owed them that much. Until the matriarch’s final breath, I remained Parker.”

And later, when Lana fell ill, when the medical expenses piled relentlessly, when he needed the Williams resources—he clung even tighter to that identity.

Only now did Freya truly understand why her brother refused to reclaim the name Eric Thorne, despite the DNA evidence proving otherwise.

He placed a hand over his heart. “Even without my memories, this truth remains unchanged.”

Everett’s expression darkened perceptibly.

“So you intend to live as Eric.”

“I will repay what I owe the Williams Family,” Parker said with quiet resolve. “Until the matriarch’s last breath, I will remain Parker in her presence. But only in hers.”

Freya’s chest tightened at his words.

He had pieced together fragments of his past through her—snatches of childhood, moments of laughter and loss—and once the truth settled within him, he could no longer force himself to live as someone else’s son.

His parents had died still searching for him.

They had left this world carrying that sorrow deep within their bones.

Everett’s fingers clenched tightly around the prayer beads he carried.

“Only in her presence? So outside, you would openly reclaim the identity of Eric?” His voice sharpened. “Do you think she lives in isolation? The moment you take back the Thorne name, she will know.”

“Then we will find a way,” Parker said softly. “Some method… to assure her I am still Parker. For her sake.”

Everett’s eyes flicked to Freya.

“I had hoped,” he said, lowering his voice, “that you would accept the Williams Family’s gratitude. We can offer you fifty million credits—a small token of thanks. But if you refuse…”

His tone shifted—smooth as velvet, yet as sharp as a predator’s fang.

“…then things may become far more complicated.”