The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 499

Chapter 499: The Choice was Mine

[Meredith].

"I was just going to get some air," I said softly.

Draven frowned, pushing himself up on one elbow. "At this hour?"

Valmora bristled immediately, as if she knew I might not be able to hold back from him. "You cannot and must not let him leave this room with you."

I hesitated only for a second before letting the words leave my mouth, calm and sincere.

"Please," I said quietly, meeting his gaze. "Can you do me a favour and sleep soundly tonight?"

There was no force or command in my voice, just a gentle tone, wrapped in trust.

Draven searched my face, something unreadable passing through his expression. Then he nodded once.

"Alright."

The next moment, his head sank back onto the pillow too quickly. His breathing deepened instantly, slow and even, the weight of true sleep settling over him as if a switch had been flipped.

I stared at him as my heart began to pound. ’Did he... just listen? Or did I do that?’

Valmora was silent now, watching everything.

I swallowed, pushing the thought aside before panic could take root. I rose quietly, pulled a shawl over my shoulders, slipped my feet into my slippers, and crossed the room without another glance back.

The hallway was empty. The house slept. But outside, the night was alive.

The air was cool, fragrant with earth and night-blooming flowers. The full moon hung low and immense, bathing the clearing in silver. Shadows stretched long across the ground, soft and reverent.

She stood there waiting for me.

My grandmother held her walking stick in one hand and a small lamp in the other, its warm glow flickering gently against the pale moonlight.

Her silver hair was drawn back into a simple bun, secured with a wooden hairpin I remembered from my childhood. Her white eyes were open, unfocused, yet I felt her attention settle on me the instant I stepped closer.

"You are here," she said softly.

"Yes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Valmora stirred again, reverent now. "This is the moment."

I tightened my shawl around myself as I approached my grandma, the night humming with something ancient, patient, and inevitable.

"Let’s go," she said to me.

I walked beside her in silence at first, the soft crunch of earth beneath our feet the only sound between us.

The lamp in her hand swayed gently with each step, casting warm arcs of light against the tall grass and ancient trees.

My chest felt tight.

"Grandma," I finally asked, unable to hold it in any longer, "where are we going?"

She didn’t stop walking. "Not far away."

That answer did little to calm me. If anything, it made me more nervous. I was dying of curiosity here, and the answers were not forthcoming.

The path narrowed, the trees thinning until the land opened into a wide clearing bathed entirely in moonlight. I slowed instinctively, and then stopped altogether.

To my surprise, there were others there.

Women stood scattered across the clearing, some older, some younger, all quiet, all watching me with knowing expressions which didn’t feel hostile.

Their hair caught the moonlight strangely, too pale, too luminous. Their presence felt layered as if they existed both here and somewhere else at once.

My breath hitched. Then, I leaned closer to my grandmother. "Who are they?"

She turned her head slightly toward me, her white eyes reflecting the moon. "Faes."

The weight of that settled slowly. ’Fae.’

My heart began to race in dawning realization. I had always known about her. I knew what she was, and the others in this village. But now seeing the others here, made something inside me tremble.

The women shifted, forming a loose circle without being told to. The air thickened, humming faintly, like a held breath.

My grandmother stopped at the centre of the clearing and turned to face me fully.

"This is where the truth begins," she said softly.

I swallowed, trying to confirm one more time. "About my curse?"

"Yes, and no." She nodded once. "I told you there was something beyond it."

Then she reached out, retaking my hands, grounding me the way she always had. "What you were told was a curse was never meant to harm you, Edith."

My brows knit together. "But I suffered because of it, the pain. Losing control—"

"I know," she said gently. "And I am sorry."

’Sorry?’ My heart skipped.

"The Lunar Curse like you and everyone else thoughy," she continued, "was not a punishment. It was a restriction. A seal."

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