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Chapter 162: Unknown Magic
Last Updated:
2024-09-24 16:59:41
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Rescuing His Enslaved Luna Queen Chapter 163: Dinner Plans
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Ivy's POVColin? The mysterious stranger is Prince Colin? I look up at the man in shock. Now that I know who he is, I can see a clear resemblance between Spencer and Colin–something in the corners of their eyes, in the slopes of their noses, in their chiseled, pronounced cheekbones. But where Spencer is broad and muscular, a walking testament to pure physical strength, Prince Colin is lean and angular. There seems to be something almost slippery about him–a wiry, cunning air. I wince as Spencer delivers the fourth punch. On the ground, Prince Colin groans in pain. For as long as I’ve been hearing about the Lycan Royal Family, I’ve known that Spencer has a younger brother at the werewolf military academy. But out of all the ways I could have met him, I never thought I’d meet him like this. And Spencer and Colin don’t exactly seem to get along. As Prince Colin spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground, Spencer prepares for a fifth punch, but quickly decides against it. Instead, he
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Ivy's POVI’m surprised and a little nervous at Prince Colin’s unexpected arrival, but Sylvia and Everly don’t seem to react at all. Sylvia rushes towards him with a wide smile. “Colin!” She exclaims happily, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. “Moon Goddess, it’s been too long. What are you doing here?” As I watch the two siblings embrace, I realize that I’ve never seen Spencer and Sylvia act particularly affectionate before one another. They seem more like acquaintances or work colleagues than relatives. I’d assumed before that royal siblings weren’t particularly close, but I guess the problem has just been Spencer. I also feel a slight tinge of worry. If Sylvia truly believes that Colin wants to challenge Spencer for the throne–a fight that would no doubt be to the death, or to something even worse–where do her alliances lie? Which brother would she stay true to? Sylvia seems genuinely close to me. I’d like to think we’re friends. But she doesn’t seem
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Ivy’s POVAs Spencer’s words ripple through the ground of battle-hardened rebels and warriors, at first, all I can hear is the deafening sound of silence. I look around, watching with bated breath. I understand the weight of what we’re trying to do here–after all, for the Lycan Royal Family to suggest surrender, especially after such a horrific bloodbath, is a truly unprecedented thing to occur. I can see that it’s still taking everyone a couple moments more to process what has just transpired. But above all else, I believe in the inherent goodness of people. One way or another, kindness will win. It has to. When the first werewolf steps forward, head lowered and arms folded behind his back in a clear display of acquiescence, I can hardly stop myself from beaming. “I surrender,” the werewolf announces softly. The words echo through the battlefield, a whisper somehow amplified over and over again by all the history in the making of this one moment. With a flick of his wrist, Spenc
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Spencer’s POVThis time, as I walk out onto the almost-still battlefield, I can feel the full force of my power returning to me. Heads swivel in my direction as I approach the center of the battleground. My Lycan aura crackles around me, a silhouette of pure power that follows behind me everywhere I step. Thanks to the Moon Goddess’s blessing as well as Ivy’s rejuvenation, I feel good again. Strong. I know I could control everyone on this field right now if I wanted to, but I don’t need to. Not yet. Right now, the gentle coercion of my Lycan aura around me is all I need. Ivy follows behind me. I can tell by the rhythm of her gait that she’s anxious to get out of here as soon as possible. I can’t see her, but I know her well enough by now that I can guess her gaze is darting around anxiously, eyeing every enemy in sight. But the longer I walk, the more confidence in my step, the more the sounds of battle start to quiet. Soon enough, the only sound to be heard is the soft pad of my f
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Ivy’s POVI leap towards the witch without a moment’s hesitation. She lets out a shrill scream and tries to angle her antlers towards me. The side of one of the antlers cuts into my left arm, but it’s a shallow enough wound not to faze me, and I’m able to use the momentum against her and send her tumbling to the ground. The witch’s body is cold, uncannily so, and I can feel shivers starting to run through me as I press my paw against her throat. But the blood spilling from her severed hand is warm, and beneath all the strange magic etched into her being, she does seem to be alive. Which means she could, feasibly, be killed. “You’ll never get away with this!” The witch shrieks. Her voice seems to be going up to unnatural heights that I’m only able to hear due to my enhanced senses. “Jason is my son. You’ll never understand him like I could. He’ll never belong with you! You’re sentencing him to life as an outcast. Put your own cruelty and selfish wants aside for just one second. The
Rescuing His Enslaved Luna Queen Chapter 386: Last Stand
Spencer’s POVIvy and I exchange a single look, and it’s like we can read each other’s minds. Without even having to speak the words aloud, we turn away from Elder Jet’s corpse in unison and rush towards the ongoing scuffle. After having spent so long stuck on this battlefield together, and thanks to the months we’ve spent learning more and more about one another, strengthening our bonds, it feels like we’ve moved past typical forms of communication in so many ways. Ivy and I don’t need to tell each other our strategy–as I make my way behind the witch, and as Ivy swiftly leaps in front of her, I know what she’s trying to do. Ivy throws her body between the witch and Wilson. “Stay back!” She snarls, teeth snapping wickedly. Her snow white fur is streaked with blood, like berries crushed underfoot on a cold winter day. “Elder Jet is dead now. His cause is ruined. There’s nothing for you here.” “Foolish girl,” the witch rasps, extending her free hand and pointing one long finger towar
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Spencer’s POVThe skin of Elder Jet’s throat splits like silk beneath my claws. The last sound he ever makes is a small gasp, as though even after everything he’s said about accepting his fate, he’s still somehow surprised that I’d actually do it. For just a few moments, blood gushes liberally from the ragged wound in his throat–his weak heart pumping out blood with its last bits of strength. But as soon as his heart gives out, the blood flow stops its torrent. I raise my gaze back up to Elder Jet’s face. I want to feel something as I look over him–the wounds marring his features, his matted, stained fur, the glassy lifelessness in his eyes–but I don’t feel a thing. I pull away from Elder Jet slowly, staring at his corpse splayed out on the grass. This is the man who tried to kill me. Who tried to kill Ivy. Who succeeded in killing my father. He’s twisted and manipulated the minds of countless young werewolves, many of whom are no doubt dead thanks to him. Every action in his miser
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Spencer’s POVWhen I see Elder Jet pinned beneath Ivy’s strong hold, the first thing I feel is pride. Over the course of knowing her, I’ve seen Ivy reclaim her own strength and power against all odds. When no one else believed in her, she believed in herself, and she’s been able to accomplish amazing things because of it. The sight of her now, able to so easily control such a powerful and influential man despite having been teetering on the verge of death so long ago… I’m so proud of her. I stalk towards Ivy and Elder Jet with a bold grin. “Thank you for taking care of him, Ivy,” I say. “Would you like me to handle things from here?” “It would be my pleasure,” Ivy replies. She strikes him across the face–just once, swiftly and harshly enough to open up a rather sizeable welt on his upper right cheek. As Elder Jet is still reeling from the blow, Ivy releases her hold on him and allows me to take her place. Before Elder Jet can even register the switch, I’ve got him firmly in my gr
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Ivy’s POVThe sensation of Elder Jet’s skin tearing beneath my claws is one of the best things I’ve felt in a long, long time. Elder Jet lets out a sharp cry of pain as my claws rip into him. I can feel hot splashes of blood splattering up onto me, and I only curl my talons deeper. Elder Jet’s cry bleeds into a shout as I rip my paw back, tearing a ragged hunk of flesh out of his shoulder. “You,” Elder Jet snarls, looking up at me with an expression of profound loathing as he curls his lip at me and takes a step back. “Me,” I repeat with a smug grin, shaking the bits of viscera out of my claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly doing her best to limp away. Elder Jet doesn’t pay her any mind, though. His gaze is focused on me like a laser, and I can tell I’m his only focus right now. “You should be dead right now,” Elder Jet stammers out. His speech is already starting to slur from the blood loss. “After that potion we gave you, after the injuries, after–I killed
