The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 284

NARRATOR

Aldric turned, watching as the dark mist began to stir violently.

Whirlwinds formed within it, spiraling upward into the sky, stretching to cover everything above them.

Daylight, suddenly, seemed to be swallowed by the darkness—only fear and shadow remained, seething with hatred and vengeance.

The waters of the lake churned restlessly, blackening, as if veins spread across the surface, weaving a web of corruption.

The lake began to harden, solidifying—it was the last barrier separating them from whatever was about to emerge from that prison.

"Azarot, we must give our pup as much time as possible."

Standing atop the hill, Aldric’s storm-gray eyes flickered toward the rear ranks, away from the danger of the front lines, behind the army.

There, the three Selenias were waiting for their moment.

He and his army had to buy them time.

"And if she fails, Aldric? I won’t just stand by and watch her be in danger."

"If she fails, we have no choice but to face the King of Specters. For all our sakes, I hope he remembers his mate."

*****

"Mother!"

"Do not leave your position, Valeria! No matter what happens, do not move!" Gabrielle shouted as her daughter took a step toward her.

Her chest ached—years, centuries of holding back, of enduring, had worn her down.

She had nothing left to give.

They stood on the slope of a distant mountain, a vantage point offering a panoramic view of the battlefield.

Valeria watched her mother anxiously—and even more so, her daughter.

She prayed to the Goddess, hoping that, at long last, she would forgive the sins of the Selenias.

No one here was without fault, not even the Deity.

"I’m fine, Valeria. Stay focused, or this could go very wrong."

Valeria nodded bravely.

"Sigrid, prepare yourself! I will recover all the power of the Selenias, and then your mother and I will pass it on to you," Gabrielle declared to her granddaughter, who stood positioned before them.

Sigrid clenched her fists, more than ready.

The three of them formed a triangle, with Sigrid at the spear’s tip, standing at the edge of the battlefield.

Her gaze remained fixed on the dark, hostile horizon.

Then, Gabrielle began to chant the ancient incantations.

Golden and black magic swirled around her, and suddenly, flocks of ravens appeared from nowhere, circling above the Selenias and the warriors, cawing in urgent, warning cries.

Danger was approaching.

"Kryssal an’thor ma’el, Selenia venath mor tallen sa’vir! Selenia venath mor tallen sa’vir! TALLEN SA’VIR!"

Gabrielle called forth the power of hundreds of Selenias, summoning them home again and again.

Quinn listened, standing in his formidable lycan form, his heart clenched tight, giving her all his strength through their bond.

The time had come.

The roars, the bone-chilling screams, and the twisted laughter echoing from within the mist confirmed his worst fear—the prison was open. The specters were free.

The war horns blared, shaking the forest.

Simultaneously, grotesque creatures of darkness began to emerge from the abyss of the black smoke—massive beasts and colossal humanoid figures, forged from pure, malignant energy.

A giant hand shot forth at terrifying speed, its claws poised to rip through the front lines. The enormous redhead leaped from the heights.

His clothes tore in midair as his skin erupted into a sleek coat of jet-black fur. His muscles swelled with raw, monstrous strength.

Fangs bared, claws sharpened—he braced for battle. His roar thundered through the battlefield, shaking even the bravest of warriors.

He clashed against the monstrous hand, defending his people with unyielding courage.

A monstrous wail of pain ripped through the air as the specter reeled back. Then, its horrid head emerged, followed by the rest of its nightmarish form.

Behind it, more and more specters clawed their way into the world, forming a terrifying army.

With war cries of their own, the mighty lycans and undead charged toward the enemy, clashing head-on with the first wave of specters.

Wolves and vampires followed behind, their movements swift and lethal, their power and reflexes at their peak.

Meanwhile, the sorcerers worked tirelessly from a distance, weaving protective barriers and shielding the ranks.

The battlefield had been designed for direct combat—even against these seemingly immortal entities of raw energy.

Everything was fair game. Everything was about buying seconds and minutes… Time for the King of Specters to appear.

Time for Sigrid to absorb the full power of the Selenias and face him.