Chapter 69 The Hunter's Gambit

Chapter 69 The Hunter's Gambit


Draven Valios had always been a patient man.

It was a trait his father despised. Thane wanted action, blood, results delivered swiftly and brutally. But Draven understood something his father never had: true power wasn't seized in a moment of reckless violence. It was cultivated. Planned. Executed with surgical precision.

And right now, sitting in his private study with the ancient spell book spread open before him, Draven held the key to everything.

The pages were yellowed and brittle, covered in symbols that shifted and writhed under his gaze. Most modern witches couldn't even read this language it was too old, too complex, written in a tongue that predated most known magic.

But Draven had spent decades preparing for exactly this moment.

His crimson-black eyes moved across the text with hungry focus. Spells of corruption that could twist a person's mind from the inside out. Binding rituals that could chain even the strongest magic. Destruction incantations that could level entire cities.

And there, near the middle of the book, a spell that made his pulse quicken.

A spell that could kill a Moonborn.

"Beautiful," Draven murmured, his finger tracing the ancient symbols. "Absolutely beautiful."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted his focus.

"Enter," he said without looking up.

One of his lieutenants stepped inside and bowed slightly. "My lord. Our scouts report increased activity at the Varex estate. They're fortifying their defenses. Doubling patrols. Strengthening wards."

"Expected," Draven replied calmly, still studying the book. "They know Morgana will strike again. And they know we have this." He gestured to the spell book with an almost affectionate touch.

"Should we accelerate our timeline?" the lieutenant asked. "Strike while they're still disorganized?"

"No." Draven finally looked up, his expression cold and controlled. "Let them fortify. Let them pour their energy and resources into building walls and wards. Let them exhaust themselves preparing for an attack they think is coming."

He stood slowly, his tall frame casting long shadows across the room in the flickering candlelight.

"We strike when they're confident," Draven continued, his voice smooth as silk. "Confidence makes people careless. They'll believe their defenses are strong enough. They'll let their guard down. And that's when we end them."

The lieutenant nodded. "And the Moonborn, my lord? What of her?"

Draven's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Still unconscious, I assume?"

"Yes, my lord. Our informant confirms she hasn't woken."

"Perfect." Draven's smile widened. "The longer she remains unconscious, the weaker their position becomes. She's not just their leader she's their symbol. Their hope. Their source of unity." He turned back to the window, looking out at the dark horizon. "Without her awake and visible, doubt will creep in. Alliances will strain. Cracks will form."

He walked back to the desk and closed the spell book with deliberate care, almost reverent.

"We give them time," Draven said quietly, more to himself than to his lieutenant. "Time to second-guess themselves. Time to argue over strategy. Time to tear themselves apart from the inside."

He looked up, his crimson-black eyes glowing in the dim light. "And when they're at their weakest, when their defenses are built but their spirits are broken..." He paused. "We end this war once and for all."



Miles away, at the Lunaris stronghold, Rhyssa was destroying a training dummy.

Her fists slammed into the padded target again and again, each strike harder than the last. Sweat poured down her face and soaked through her training clothes, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Her wolf rippled just beneath her skin, barely contained, responding to the rage and frustration burning through her veins.

Strike. Strike. Strike.

"Rhyssa."

She didn't hear Kira approach. Didn't hear her cousin's voice the first time.

"Rhyssa!" Kira's hand caught her wrist mid-strike, forcing her to stop.

Rhyssa spun, eyes flashing amber, breathing hard. For a moment, she looked ready to fight. Then recognition flickered, and she lowered her fist.

"What?" Rhyssa's voice was rough, almost hostile.

Kira didn't flinch. "You've been at this for four hours. You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Kira stepped fully into Rhyssa's space, blocking her from returning to the training dummy. "You're punishing yourself. And I want to know why."

Rhyssa's jaw clenched. She looked away, chest still heaving. "I need to be stronger."

"You're already one of the strongest fighters we have."

"It wasn't enough!" The words exploded out of Rhyssa before she could stop them. She turned back to Kira, and there was raw pain in her eyes. "I wasn't there, Kira. When Ava faced Morgana when she nearly died I was out there fighting Vakra's pack. Fighting mutts and corrupted wolves while she was in that chamber facing the real threat. Alone."

Kira's expression softened with understanding. "You were exactly where you needed to be. We all were. That's what war means. We can't be everywhere at once."

"But she's the Moonborn," Rhyssa said, her voice breaking slightly. "She shouldn't have had to fight that battle alone. I should have been there. I should have protected her."

"She has the power of the ancestors," Kira said gently. "You don't. If you'd been in that chamber, Morgana might have used you against her. Turned you into a weapon. You being elsewhere might have saved her life."

Rhyssa shook her head, not convinced. "She saved all of us, Kira. She broke Lyra's curse. She drove Morgana away. And I couldn't do a damn thing to help her."

Kira grabbed both of Rhyssa's shoulders, forcing her to meet her eyes. "So you train. You get stronger. You prepare. And when Ava wakes up when, not if you make damn sure she never has to fight alone again. You hear me?"

Rhyssa's throat tightened with emotion. She nodded slowly. "When she wakes up."

"Exactly." Kira's grip softened. "When. Have faith, Rhyssa. If anyone can fight their way back from the darkness, it's her."

Rhyssa took a shaky breath and nodded again. "You're right. I know you're right."

"Good." Kira stepped back. "Now go eat something. Rest. And tomorrow we train together. Deal?"

"Deal," Rhyssa agreed quietly.

As Kira walked away, Rhyssa looked down at her bruised, bloodied knuckles and made herself a silent promise: When you wake up, Ava, I'll be ready. I won't fail you again.

In Darion's room, soft morning light filtered through the curtains.

Lyra woke slowly, blinking against the brightness. She turned her head and found Darion already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed like he was carrying an impossible weight.

"Couldn't sleep?" Lyra asked softly, pushing herself up.

Darion didn't turn around immediately. "I keep thinking about what happens next."

Lyra shifted closer, sitting beside him. "What do you mean?"

"Morgana's still out there. Draven has the spell book." He finally turned to look at her, and the fear in his blue eyes made her chest ache. "And Ava... what if she doesn't wake up, Lyra? What if we won that battle but we're going to lose the war?"

Lyra reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "Then we keep fighting. Because that's what she'd want. That's what she'd do."

"You didn't know her before all this," Darion said quietly, looking down at their joined hands. "She was just a girl. A normal girl with a normal life. Working at the Varex Group, living in her little apartment, completely unaware of any of this." His voice grew heavy with guilt. "And we dragged her into hell."

"You didn't drag her anywhere," Lyra said firmly. "She chose this. She could have walked away, but she didn't. She chose to fight. To lead. To sacrifice herself for people she barely knew." Lyra squeezed his hand. "And we honor that choice by not giving up now."

Darion looked at her this woman who'd survived her own nightmare, who'd fought a curse that should have destroyed her, who somehow still had the strength to comfort him when she was barely holding herself together.

"How are you so strong?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"I'm not," Lyra admitted. "I'm terrified. Of what I've become. Of what's still coming. Of losing everything again." She met his eyes. "But I'm still here. And so are you. So we figure it out. Together."

Something shifted in Darion's expression the fear softening into something warmer, more determined. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Together," he echoed.

Lyra leaned into him, feeling safe for the first time in days. "Together."

In the medical center, Lucian sat in his usual chair beside Ava's bed, his hand wrapped around hers.

He'd been talking to her for the past hour telling her about council meetings, about the scouts' reports, about Lyra's recovery. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to feel like she could hear him.

"Darion's doing better," Lucian said quietly. "Lyra's helping him. I think they're good for each other." He paused. "You'd like her, I think. She's stronger than she looks. Reminds me of you in that way."

Ava's hand remained still in his.

Lucian sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with his free hand. "I need you to wake up, Ava. Not just because we need our Moonborn. Because I need you. I need.."

Ava's hand suddenly twitched.

Lucian's head snapped up. "Ava?"

Her eyes flew open.

But they weren't her warm brown eyes.

They glowed pure, brilliant silver bright and otherworldly, like moonlight given form.

"Ava?" Lucian leaned closer, heart pounding.

When she spoke, her voice wasn't her own. It echoed, layered with something ancient and powerful that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"They're coming," Ava said, or something spoke through her. "Soon. And we are not ready."

Lucian's blood ran cold. "Who's coming? Ava, what do you"

Her silver eyes rolled back.

She collapsed against the pillows, unconscious once more, her hand going limp in his.

"AVA!" Lucian shot to his feet. "Get Selene! Someone get Selene NOW!"

Footsteps thundered in the hallway as guards responded to his shout.

But Lucian couldn't look away from Ava's face pale, still, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Whatever was happening to her, whatever force had just spoken through her...

Who was coming?