The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 228

Chapter 228: Council Meeting with the Elders (I)

Draven.

An hour after breakfast, I was halfway through reading an old scroll on interspecies treaties—something I hadn’t bothered to look at in years—when the door to the study opened.

Jeffery stepped in, his tone calm as always, but his words broke through the quiet like a pebble hitting glass.

"King Alderic is here."

I looked up, startled. "Here? In this castle?" 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Jeffery gave a small nod. "Just arrived. He’s with your father in the main sitting room."

I closed the scroll with a soft thud. "It seems the vampire corpses couldn’t wait for today’s council."

Jeffery smirked faintly. "That’s what I figured, too."

We left the study together and headed for the main living room. Sure enough, King Alderic was already seated comfortably, deep in discussion with my father.

Their low voices carried across the space, interrupted only when Alderic caught sight of me.

"Ah, Draven!" Alderic rose with a wide smile, hands extended.

I stepped forward and grasped his arms in greeting. "You should have sent word ahead, Your Majesty."

"No formalities between us," he said with a wave of his hand, brushing away the title like lint. "Besides, I couldn’t wait. You know how long it’s been since I’ve laid eyes on one of those cursed things?"

"Maybe two centuries," I said, smirking slightly. "And I brought you four."

His eyes twinkled. "A generous offering."

I gestured to Jeffery. "He will take us to the vault. The bodies were preserved—barely. Not pleasant, but still intact."

Jeffery nodded and left to prepare the viewing.

Then, Alderic turned to my father, still smiling. "I knew your son was tenacious, Randall, but this? He’s outdone himself."

My father only chuckled. "You’ve only seen the bodies yet. Wait until you hear the rest."

When Jeffery returned, we led Alderic down the stone corridor that curved beneath the estate toward the cold vaults.

The air turned colder as we descended—intentionally so. I had insisted years ago that Oatrun’s underground storage could double as war containment if necessary.

I was glad now that we’d made the investment.

Inside, the temperature dropped further. Frost glistened faintly on the pipes above, and two of my guards stood flanking the large steel vault.

Jeffery opened the heavy door, and a wave of cold air rolled out. Inside were four sealed body bags, laid atop long marble slabs.

The pungent scent of chemical preservation and death mingled thickly in the air.

One of the guards unzipped the first bag.

Alderic stepped forward and looked down at the ashen, lifeless vampire face. He exhaled slowly, almost reverently.

"Moon goddess," he muttered. "I never thought I’d see one again."

"Their eyes are still red, even in death," my father noted, stepping beside him. "And look at those fangs. Like ivory needles."

"They attacked my estate two nights ago," I began. "Ten of them. We killed eight and two escaped."

Alderic looked up sharply. "They were organized?"

"Coordinated," I said grimly. "One led the others, issuing silent commands. This wasn’t a rogue act—it was recon. A test, maybe. But they failed."

I didn’t care for either of them. Those old men have always been at odds with me for whatever stupid reasons best known to them.

I disregarded their gazes and thoughts and walked to my seat, sat, and crossed one leg over the other.

Jeffery sat beside me, arms folded. Oscar joined him, silent and sharp-eyed.

Reginald Oatrun—Wanda’s father—remained seated across the hall. He hadn’t so much as blinked in my direction since I entered Stormveil. And again, I found I didn’t care.

My father took his place beside Alderic’s empty seat.

Then, at last, the King entered.

He made no announcement, simply walked to his seat, and sat. The room hushed instantly.

Alderic opened the meeting with a brief formal address, then gestured toward me. "Alpha Draven Oatrun has brought proof of what we all feared. Vampires... have returned."

I rose, my gaze sweeping across the semi-circle of high-backed chairs. And then, with a quiet nod, the guards wheeled in the sealed cases—each one containing a vampire body.

Gasps followed. Some Elders recoiled, others leaned forward.

"These creatures are no myth," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "They are not stories. They are walking, killing memories. And they’re back."

Murmurs surged.

One of the elders, his beard white and eyes sunken, leaned forward. "Where were these bodies found?"

"At my estate in Duskmoor," I said. "They attacked two nights ago. There were a total of ten. We killed eight, and two escaped."

"And the humans?" another asked. "Do they know?"

"They’re chasing ghosts," I said. "Brackham and his faction planted cameras in the woods—watching shadows they don’t understand. They think these creatures are something new. But they are wrong."