Cursed Lycan's Scarred Mate
Chapter 83: Hello again, Lyra

Chapter 83: Hello again, Lyra

For Ronan, he was greatly indebted to Sabre Coven. In a moment of darkness, when death was frantically knocking at his door, it was Lady Morgana who rescued him from death’s clutches.

He would never forget such a favour and had yet to repay it.

"Something I will speak of another time," Ronan affirmed, offering Vivian a gentle smile. "This stroll is meant to help you relax and not speak of anything morbid."

Vivian nodded, wary of rousing any more unpleasant memories for Ronan. Strangely enough, as they strolled further from the gardens into the forest, Vivian’s head began to throb.

Ronan’s arm remained protectively around her waist, unwilling to separate from her, and she welcomed the safety of his strong arms. They walked through into a clearing, where the grass was less dense and more fine, making it easier for her to walk without her dress getting tattered by roots and stems of shrubs.

She assumed the headache would wane eventually if she strolled for longer; however, it seemed to ebb and rise, only giving her brief respites before resurfacing to hammer at her mind.

And oddly enough, the rest of her body, where the Wickan symbols were burnt into the flesh, was devoid of pain or any burning sensations.

In the distance, amongst the trees at the far end of the clearing, Vivian’s gaze was drawn to the white wolf regarding her carefully through its emerald eyes.

The wolf lay in waiting, showing no signs of movement. Vivian glanced at Ronan from the corner of her eye, wondering if the Lycan Alpha had taken notice of the white wolf, but Ronan’s gaze remained fixed head without any signs of recognition or notice of the wolf.

Vivian squinted her eyes to gain a better view of the white wolf, and her eyes widened in disbelief when she recognised the creature as her own inner wolf.

The wolf she’d been yearning to reconnect with was right within her reach. Much like the Wickan symbols on her body, her wolf’s fur was burnt like patches in some areas.

Unsightly and unpleasant to look at.

When the white wolf sprung into the bushes, beckoning Vivian to follow, she broke free of Ronan’s hold. She lifted her dress and chased after the wolf, her eyes desperately searching for any hint of white between the shrubs.

"Vivi?!" Ronan exclaimed, immediately pursuing her without hesitation. "Where are you going?" His strides were long, easily crossing the distance between them. However, just as he reached out to grab her by the waist, Vivian vanished into thin air.

Her form faded like dust, whisked away by the breeze just as he reached the treeline. Eyes frozen with horror, Ronan halted dead in his tracks. It didn’t take him more than a minute to embrace his Lycan half and shift into his beast skin, tearing through the shrubs.

He lifted his head with a drawn-out howl resonating from his throat, sniffing the air to catch any whiff of Vivian’s scent, but there were no traces. It was almost as if her scent lingered in between the forest and nothingness but could not be followed.

"Where did you go, princess?" Panic rose in Ronan’s voice as he frantically scoured the forest, but his efforts were in vain.

How could he be so foolish to lose her yet again? How could she have slipped away so easily? How could she have disappeared into thin air?

Were one of the Wickans of Sabre Coven toying and playing tricks on him?

As for Vivian, when she pursued her inner wolf without a second thought, she didn’t expect to find herself right back into the desolate landscape of the Old World.

Glancing around warily, just as before, there was the heavy stench of death and decay in the air. It was almost as if the scene wasn’t a mere illusion, but rather a moment of reality.

This was no memory.

Vivian was in the realm of the Old World physically.

"Why did she bring me here?" Vivian uttered with a quivering breath, her skin pebbling with goosebumps from the biting cold. She rubbed her arms for warmth, teeth chattering as she walked through the graveyard of beast skeletons. "How am I even here?"

With no sense of her surroundings, Vivian didn’t stray much further away from the graveyard until her inner wolf reappeared. The creature slowly trod towards Vivian until it was close enough to brush its snout up against her leg.

"Hello again, Lyra," Vivian greeted, crouching down on her haunches to cup her wolf’s face. "Why did you bring me here?" Lyra nuzzled into Vivian’s palm, a soft whimper escaping her. "I don’t understand why I’m here. How is it even possible for me to be here?"

"There is something you must see, Vivi," Lyra finally spoke, her emerald eyes vigilantly scrutinising their surroundings. Her ears twitched, listening to dark and harsh mutters approaching in the distance. There was a swirling mass of black and magenta energy visible in the distance through the misty air, and Lyra scowled. "It is not safe here. We must move somewhere else."

Sharing Lyra’s concerns as she took notice of the same approaching anomaly, Vivian stood up and hurriedly followed her wolf out of the wasteland. She tried to keep pace with Lyra, but her boots proved to be a hindrance.

"Where are we going, Lyra?" Vivian asked, realising she no longer possessed the same physical fitness as before when she had the advantage of her wolf traits. Her chest heaved, her breaths coming out in short pants. "Are you sure?" She huffed, forcing herself to continue on. "Is it safe to be here?"

Lyra didn’t respond, only running ahead as fast as she could. By the time Vivian caught up to her wolf, she was a panting mess. She bent her body forward, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

When she came to, Vivian found herself in the vicinity of a temple of ruins. The skies above were no longer a dull grey, but rather now turned to a starry night sky. The crumbled remains and pillars were like bones, eerie, but illuminated by the strong moonlight from above.

Vivian followed Lyra, crossing over stone floors riddled with creeping vines and dried plants. The wind howled, followed by the thud of her boots on the stone.

Vivian could feel the underlayer of magic in the atmosphere—something dark mixed with light. She curiously scanned the runes engraved onto crushed pillars and the unknown sigils that seemed all too familiar yet also unfamiliar at the same time.

"Where are we, Lyra?" Vivian queried, feeling an uneasy chill surge through her body. Her head began to throb harder than before, making it difficult to concentrate.

"The temple of the goddess Lunaria," Lyra said, slightly shifting her head to look at Vivian. "We are in her domain."

The Temple of the Goddess Lunaria? Why would Lyra bring her here, and for what purpose? How did her wolf even have access to the Old World when it was a realm thought to be dead and sealed off from any entry?

Lyra stopped when they reached a towering statue of the goddess Lunaria in the heart of the ruins. Her silver hair cascaded like waterfalls, and her eyes, filled with glowing moonstones, seemed to gaze peacefully ahead.

Vivian received brief flashes of memories when she touched the goddess Lunaria’s statue. Her mind spiralled out of control, making her stumble back.

She was shown a scene of Goddess Lunaria in the flesh, dressed in flowing starry night silk and sitting upon the crescent moon throne of her temple before its destruction. Bowing before her were six humans.

They prostrated themselves respectfully, some fervently begging for mercy, but the Goddess Lunaria had already issued her final and absolute decree.

Then, Vivian’s perspective shifter and she was shown the memory through the eyes of the Goddess Lunaria herself. And from ber view on the temple’s throne, her attention was drawn to one particular man at the far end of the humans prostrating before the Goddess.

The man was tall, tan-skinned with sharp, handsome features. He appeared stoic compared to the rest, almost arrogant since he was the only one bold enough not to bow down to the Goddess Lunaria. He was dressed in silver light armour with long hair as black as a starry night cascading down his back.

He regarded the Goddess Lunaria with disapproval of her decision but beneath the golden amber of his eyes was a hint of affection for her.

And then, Vivian was ejected from the memory, and she found her bearings again when Lyra stood behind her as support. She controlled herself from screaming out in pain, grimacing as she felt her head being split open.

Lyra observed quietly but made no effort to intervene.

When Vivian came to, her vision blurring for a brief moment before she regained clarity, her eyes drifted to intricate drawings carved onto the base of Lunaria’s statue.

The bottom of the statue was weathered, but there were distinct drawings of humanoid figures congregating around a magical altar lit up with dark rays of magic.

Levitating above them was the goddess Lunaria, her expression filled with rage as she cast her decrees upon them. Their greed for power led them to defy her and the other gods, thus being cursed into Lycans.

The drawings transitioned into showing the humans as Lycans—half beast, half man—under the moon.

Vivian traced the carvings with her fingers, her eyes softening as she could still feel the faint sorrows of Lunaria. She noticed that in all the goddess’s rage, there were tears streaming down Lunaria’s face.

Was she mourning her own actions? Grieving because of the beastly curse she cast upon the humans?

"Was it really your decision to curse them?" Vivian murmured to herself, trying to understand why Lunaria would shed tears for the humans she cursed.