Chapter 80: The Eclipse’s Final Light

Third Person’s Point of View

Before anyone could even fully process Coriander’s transformation into the Lunar‑Solar form of the Solar Sigil, Imus and Nico threw their heads back and howled in perfect unison—a roar so powerful it shook the entire area, cracking the already crumbling Hall and rippling outward to rattle the very earth for miles around.

No sooner had their call faded than Graveon, Pink, Ingil, Trig, and every other wolf and lycan present joined in, their voices rising together in a deafening, soul‑shaking chorus that echoed across the darkened land.

Madame Tulfa and Elder Mara both clamped their hands tightly over their ears, the sheer force of the sound pressing against them like a physical weight.

Madame Tulfa, who had spent years studying the ancient wolf‑lycan soul bond and every rare, supernatural manifestation of lycan power, understood exactly what was happening. She recognized the resonance, the alignment, the gathering of strength that no ordinary magic could ever hope to match.

“Shit, I need to get out of here!” she muttered sharply, scanning the shattered garden who is now ringed by hundreds of howling lycans.

Elder Mara, on the other hand, did not flinch, not even a little. Instead of fear just like Madame Tulfa, a wild grin spread across her face. Her eyes gleamed with greed and exhilaration as she drank in the sight of Coriander’s two-headed form.

“Yes… YES!” she cackled, throwing her head back as the howls crashed around her. “This is it! The true form! The full power I have dreamed of for decades! More beautiful, more glorious than the legends ever said!”

She threw her arms wide, violet magic surging violently around her, no longer hidden or restrained.

Tulfa saw exactly what her mother Mara was doing. She had never truly regarded that woman as her mother—not when Mara had never cared for her, not when she had abandoned her without a second thought. But Tulfa had long since made peace with that hurt; she no longer carried the weight of it.

She had not stepped into this chaos to stand beside Mara or fight for her cause. She had come for one reason only, and that is to settle her own score with King Mavros.

“This is exactly what I have waited for! The Solar Sigil stands revealed in all its perfection, and it is mine! All mine!” Elder Mara shouted over the deafening chorus.

Her joy was not terror; it was the thrill of a hunter finally seeing their greatest prize laid bare. Every barrier was gone, every secret exposed, and to Mara, this was not defeat—it was the moment everything she had schemed and sacrificed for was finally within her grasp.

She did not see a Queen of Obsidian Fang Pack or the lady of Hundi Pack, she saw a vessel. She did not see a power to fear, she saw a power she intended to tear from Coriander’s very soul.

“Come to me!” Mara cried, her voice thick with desperate hunger. “You were always meant for me! For the Hundi Pack! I will take every drop of this power and make it bow to my will!”

The minutes-long, unified howl of the lycans slowly faded away, and it was no ordinary cry; it had been heard across the entire world. This was the first howl of the Solar Sigil in all these long years, a proclamation to every lycan and wolf that their true power had returned.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the battlefield split into three separate clashes—each one reflecting a conflict that had been waged in hearts and minds long before this night ever began.

On Lief and Mivron’s side, the two clashed once more but this time the difference was clear: Mivron had fully shifted into his lycan form, Ingil, while Lief remained trapped in his human shape.

Just as Mivron had said earlier, Ludwig was truly gone forever—Lief had sacrificed his own lycan to fuel his selfish obsession.

Smoke swirled around the ring of cracked earth where the two Betas stood, both battered, bleeding, and breathing hard. Lief’s violet aura flickered now, less steady than before, the stolen power beginning to fray at the edges. Ingil stood tall, his stance firm and unshakable.

“You’ve already lost, Lief,” Mivron spoke from within Ingil’s form. “Mara’s hold on you is slipping. You can feel it, can’t you? That violet fire isn’t yours. It never was.”

Lief snarled and lunged forward with a roar, his fist blazing with dark energy. “I am still the rightful Beta! You’re nothing but a stand-in!”

He struck with desperate fury, every blow meant to kill—but Ingil did not merely block. He countered with the steady discipline of one who had learned patience while Lief had let his pride eat him alive.

Step by step, strike by strike, Mivron forced him back. Where Lief raged blindly, Mivron remained calm; where Lief burned with reckless anger, Mivron stood as an unyielding shield.

“You think strength is just anger?” Mivron shouted. Ingil’s big paw caught Lief’s wrist and twisted it just enough to make him drop the cursed knife he was holding tight. “You think loyalty means burning everything that won’t bow to you? That is not leadership, Lief. That is tyranny and it ends tonight!”

Lief roared and threw one last wild attack. His moves were messy and unsteady. The magic that was keeping him strong was fading fast.

Ingil ducked under his last swing, pushed his shoulder hard into Lief’s chest, and swept his legs out from under him. Lief fell hard onto his back. Dust and dirt flew everywhere.

Before he could get up, Ingil pinned him down—one heavy paw on his chest, the other holding his wrist still. He did not mean to hurt him. He only wanted to stop Lief from hurting himself any more.

“It’s over,” Mivron said firmly, looking down at the man he had once respected. “Just look at you. You are nothing but a puppet. And your strings have been cut.”

Lief tried to fight back once, twice—then he stopped moving. The violet light in his eyes faded away. All that was left was tiredness and the sad, clear truth of what he had become. He closed his eyes and let his body go limp under Ingil’s weight. He was beaten not by force alone, but by the emptiness of the very thing he had given everything to serve.

Now on Mavros’s side, in his form as Graveon, he stood right in front of Madame Tulfa—just as she was about to run away. He had chased her down, determined to make her pay for what she had done earlier. Graveon had been burning with anger for a long time now, just waiting to throw this woman to the ground.

Graveon stood tall and powerful—his fur was black as night, his eyes burning bright blue, and blue light crackled all over his fur.

Madame Tulfa turned to fight, shadows swirling around her hands.

“You cannot stop me!” Tulfa shouted. She threw a bolt of dark magic straight at him.

Graveon did not flinch. He leaped forward and hit the magic with a strong blue strike of his own. Then the two powers crashed together. The dark magic broke apart, and Graveon kept coming.

Tulfa threw another spell, then another, but Graveon was too fast. He dodged, ducked, and jumped—closing the gap between them in seconds.

Tulfa spun around, whipping a wave of shadow at his legs. Graveon jumped high, landed right in front of her, and swung his paw. A blast of pure blue light shot out and knocked her backward.

She stumbled but caught herself, her face full of shock. She had never seen a lycan strike with such power!

Graveon growled deep in his chest. His blue eyes glowed brighter. Then he charged again.

Tulfa raised a shield of violet magic, but Graveon smashed right through it—his blue paw striking hard against her guard.

She gasped and slid back across the ground. Her magic was strong, but Graveon’s strength was greater. Every time she hit him with shadows, he answered with blue fire that burned the darkness away.

“You fight with anger and pain,” Graveon rumbled in a deep voice. “But you cannot win with hate alone.”

“Damn you, King Mavros Grimvile!” Tulfa screamed and summoned all her magic for one final attack. Shadows rose up like a giant wave.

Graveon stood firm. He gathered all his power—blue light blazing from head to toe—and let out a mighty roar.

A huge blue wave blasted outward. It swallowed the shadows completely and hit Tulfa full force. She fell to her knees, her magic gone, her strength spent.

Graveon stood over her, blue light still glowing around him, but he did not strike again. He had won. Not with cruelty, but with the true power of a lycan: strength, courage, and control.

Tulfa looked up at him, beaten and broken, knowing she had been defeated fairly.

“I never wanted to fight you, Tulfa,” Mavros said quietly inside Graveon. “But I will not let your bitterness destroy everything I love. Not when I know the truth of what you’ve done.”

On the other side of the battlefield, Mara had not waited. While Tulfa hesitated and Lief fell, she had gathered every ounce of her stolen power, violet flames roaring around her until she looked like a living storm. She did not see Coriander as a protector or a leader—she saw only the vessel, the prize, the key to immortality and absolute rule.

“You cannot fight what belongs to me!” Mara shrieked. She raised both hands and shot a sharp spear of glowing violet magic straight toward the two‑headed wolf’s heart. “I made this path! I paid every price! It is mine!”

The spear hit the golden light around Coriander and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Coriander did not even move. One head looked at Mara with soft, sad eyes; the other stared at her steadily and strongly, like the moon watching over the dark.

“Nothing built on greed can ever take what was born of love,” both voices spoke at once. The sound filled Mara’s mind and echoed all across the field.

Mara screamed in anger. She threw one dark blast after another wave after wave of purple fire and shadow. But every spell broke against Coriander’s light.

The more Mara attacked, the brighter Coriander glowed. The power meant to hurt her only made her stronger. Mara was feeding the very power she wanted to steal.

“Stop fighting me!” Mara cried out, breathing hard and tired now. Her purple light flickered weakly. “I took you in! I guided you! You owe me!”

“You only used me,” Coriander answered, calm and firm. “This power does not serve greed. It does not serve people who want control. It only serves to balance those who stand for something bigger than themselves.”

Mara yelled and jumped forward. She swung her arm and a thick whip of shadow lashed out, aiming straight for Coriander’s side.

Coriander did not run. She snapped one head forward and bit through the shadow whip like it was a thin rope. The dark magic dissolved into smoke. Mara stumbled back, eyes wide with shock.

Mara would not stop. She spun in a circle, calling all her power up from the ground. Violet flames rose in a ring around Coriander, closing in tight.

Coriander lifted her head and let out a long, loud roar. Golden and silver light exploded outward. The purple fire burned away in one second—gone like it had never been there.

Mara fell to one knee, shaking. She still had one trick left. She pulled a small, sharp dagger made of dark crystal from her robe and rushed forward, fast as a snake.

“I will take it by force!” she screamed.

Coriander did not hurt her. She simply stepped aside, so Mara ran past her and stumbled on the broken ground. Before Mara could stand up straight, Coriander lifted one paw and sent a beam of gold and silver light wrapping around her.

It did not cut or burn—it pulled the stolen magic right out of Mara’s body. The violet glow faded fast. Mara’s hair turned gray, her shoulders dropped, and she looked old and weak again—just a mortal woman with no magic left at all.

Mara dropped the dagger. She fell fully onto her knees. She stared up at the great two‑headed wolf glowing above her—the power she had chased her whole life, now right there and forever out of her reach.

“You cannot take it,” Mara whispered in horror, finally understanding the truth. “You are not… you are not mine to command.”

“I was never yours,” Coriander said clearly. “And I never will be.”