The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 600: Bitterness Festered

[Third Person].

Reginald did not wait for formal dismissal.

The moment the duel was declared over and Wanda was carried away limping, pale, humiliated, he turned sharply and strode towards the exit. His robes fluttered behind him, and his steps were too quick to be dignified.

Shame burned hotter than anger. His daughter, who had sworn Meredith was nothing more than a wolfless decoration, had been reduced to a spectacle before half of Stormveil’s most influential figures.

He should never have underestimated Meredith. He should never have allowed himself to believe the rumours so completely.

But more than humiliation drove him out of the chamber.

He knew Draven, and he knew that look. The controlled stillness. The quiet satisfaction. The memory of every insult carefully stored away.

Reginald had no intention of remaining behind to experience the beginning of that retaliation, so he exited swiftly.

Draven watched him go, and a scoff formed silently in his chest. "Run while you can," he thought coldly. "You will not outrun what is coming."

Around them, the spectators began dispersing. Murmurs filled the air—shock, awe, reluctant admiration.

"I’ve never seen such control."

"She made Miss Fellowes look like an amateur."

"Stormveil has found its Queen."

The chamber gradually emptied of common observers, leaving only the elders and a few guards.

Then, Draven lifted the parchment—the signed document still in his grasp. The faint scratch of inked names seemed heavier now.

He let his gaze travel from one elder to the next. "I will not forget this day," he said evenly without raising his voice.

But the weight of his words pressed harder than anger. Several elders shifted uncomfortably. A few lowered their eyes. None dared respond.

Meredith stood beside him, composed and unbothered. What had transpired here did not weigh on her. She had done what was required. The rest was Draven’s arena now, and she had no intention of restraining him.

Then Randall rose slowly. His voice cut through the lingering tension.

"Now that the Luna has fulfilled your condition," he said, glancing across the council seats, "it is time to set the coronation date for King Draven Oatrun and Queen Meredith Carter."

There was no opposition or hesitation this time. Without Reginald present to spearhead resistance, the remaining elders exchanged brief, calculating, cautious looks and nodded.

"Yes."

"It should not be delayed further."

"Two weeks."

They conferred briefly among themselves, and then it was spoken formally:

"The coronation shall take place in two weeks’ time."

The declaration echoed across the chamber like the sealing of fate.

One by one, the elders rose and bowed. Some with reluctance, while some with careful diplomacy. Only a few stepped forward and bowed more deeply toward Meredith.

"Luna—Queen—no one will question your strength again."

"It was... wise... that today’s duel was witnessed."

"The people have seen. There will be no doubt now."

Their tone had changed, and they were more respectful.

Meredith accepted their words with a calm nod. She neither smiled nor gloated.

---

The news of the scene witnessed in the Council chambers did not travel slowly. It exploded.

By the time the sun dipped behind the hills of Stormveil, merchants in the marketplace were already retelling the duel in exaggerated detail.

"She didn’t even look tired!"

"Fifteen minutes? It looked like child’s play!"

"They said Miss Fellowes couldn’t even land a proper strike!"

And then came the part that truly stunned everyone: Meredith actually had a wolf.

"The Luna has a wolf. A white one."

"She has the most beautiful white wolf I’ve ever seen."

"The Luna was never cursed! She was never wolfless!"

From stall to stall, from carriage drivers to estate servants, from pack warriors to noble households, the story reshaped itself with every retelling, growing louder and brighter.

Some older women gathered near the fountain, shook their heads in regret.

"That poor child..."

"All those years, they mocked her openly."

"They called her cursed, and she endured it all."

One woman sighed deeply. "And she still fed us. Remember her event? She never acted proud."

Another nodded. "Perhaps the Moon Goddess was testing her."

Within hours, the humiliation that once followed Meredith’s name was replaced by awe. And just as swiftly, the second wave of news followed—

"The coronation is scheduled. It will take place in two weeks."

"King Draven Oatrun and Queen Meredith Carter ascend the throne together."

That announcement sealed it.

The city buzzed like a stirred hive.

---

Meanwhile, at the Carter household, the atmosphere was far from celebratory.

Monique was the first to burst into the sitting room, her breath uneven, face pale with disbelief. "Have you heard?" she demanded.

Gary looked up from where he sat. "Heard what?"

"About Meredith."

The name alone tightened the air.

Mabel, who had been arranging flowers near the window, turned sharply. "What about her?"

Monique’s voice trembled with outrage. "She has a wolf."

Silence echoed in the space for a moment. Then, Gary laughed once. Harsh. Disbelieving. "That’s impossible."

"It’s all over Stormveil," Monique snapped. "She duelled Wanda Fellowes in front of the council and defeated her."

Mabel’s hands went still. "She... what?"

"They are saying she is no longer cursed. That she has a white wolf. That she humiliated one of the finest female warriors in the region."

Gary shot to his feet. "No." His jaw clenched tightly. "It can’t be that she tricked everyone."

Mabel’s eyes darkened. "She must have gotten her wolf long ago and hid it."

Monique nodded quickly, seizing that explanation. "Yes. That must be it. She deceived everyone. Pretended to be pitiful. Let the whole world believe she was cursed."

Gary’s expression twisted with bitterness. "Sneaky little witch."

Mabel began pacing. "So that’s why she came back so bold. So arrogant."

Monique’s face hardened. "Do you realize what this means? People will start talking about us. They will say we treated a future Queen badly."

Gary scoffed. "Let them talk." But his voice lacked conviction.

Mabel’s anger flared fully now. "Does that brat think that because she will be crowned Queen in two weeks, anything will change?" she spat. "She will remain a loser!"

Monique folded her arms tightly. "She didn’t even come home to acknowledge us when she returned to Stormveil. Now look at her."

Gary muttered darkly, "She humiliated this family. Again."

Not one of them paused to reflect. Not one of them admitted they might have been cruel to their sister.

Instead, they clung to pride, resentment, and wounded egos, choosing anger over accountability.

Outside their windows, the people of Stormveil celebrated a rising Queen. Inside the Carter household, bitterness festered.