Hades' Cursed Luna - Chapter 154

Chapter 154: Resurrection
Hades

The crowd erupted into controlled applause, a hollow, mechanical sound echoing through the courtyard.

The crowd watched as Eve’s corpse was placed onto a cold, steel stretcher by two royal guards. The metallic clang of the chains still bound to her limbs echoed unnervingly in the courtyard. Her blood left a dark trail smeared across the execution platform as they carried her body away, disappearing behind a set of steel doors at the back of the stage.

The LED screens faded to black, erasing any trace of what had just occurred. The applause dwindled, replaced by murmurs and hushed conversations, some laced with relief, others with unease.

Alpha Darius remained still on the balcony, surveying the crowd with cold indifference. His voice once again sliced through the air.

“It is done.” He wiped his strangely wet face. “Eve Valmont, the cursed twin, is dead.”

Those three words were final. Heavy.

Only then did people fully react. Some began to clap again, hooting and cheering, while some—more than a few—all but burst into silent tears. It was a stark juxtaposition of raw emotions: jubilation and mourning.

“Princess Evie…” an old woman whispered. “I can still remember when they announced her birth.” Tears crept down her face, her hand shaking.

“She did not deserve such a callous death… not after all she has done,” another woman whispered, her voice filled with grief.

“We are in a modern world; she should not have died over some foolish prophecy.”

“I could never believe that she would try and kill her sister.”

The murmurs grew until Alpha Darius’s voice tore through the cacophony again. “Now,” he turned to the press, who were waiting anxiously, “your questions?”

The press surged forward, microphones and cameras angling toward the towering figure of Alpha Darius. Their questions came like rapid gunfire, breaking the uneasy silence that lingered after Eve’s execution.

A bold reporter from Silverpine Daily stepped forward, her voice steady despite the tension.

“Alpha Darius, is the prophecy truly credible? Many believe it was manipulated to justify Princess Eve’s execution.”

Darius’s cold eyes locked onto her.

“The prophecy has guided this kingdom for centuries. To question it now is to question the foundation of Silverpine’s safety. Its warnings are clear, and today, we ensured they will not come to pass.”

Another reporter, younger, his face pale but determined, raised his mic.

“How do you feel about the death of your daughter?”

The question cut through the air like a blade.

For the first time, Darius’s expression shifted—only slightly. His jaw tightened, but his tone remained steady.

“My duty as Alpha and king outweighs personal grief. The safety of this kingdom demanded sacrifice. I did what was necessary.”

A journalist from The Noctara Herald leaned forward, her voice sharper.

“Was it hard to come to this decision? To execute your own blood?”

Darius’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning frostier.

“Leadership is not measured by sentiment. It is measured by action. This decision was made for the greater good. Personal feelings have no place in matters of survival.”

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd.

Another hand shot up. This time from an older man in a dark coat, a journalist from The Lunar Tribune.

“If the prophecy is true, what about the so-called second verse? Rumors say it foretells redemption, not ruin. Why has it been hidden from the public?”

For a split second, Darius faltered. It was barely noticeable—a flicker in his otherwise stone-like composure.

“The second verse is myth,” he said curtly. “A fabrication created by those who seek to sow doubt. Do not be misled by half-truths and conspiracies. The prophecy that matters has been fulfilled.”

The murmurs among the press grew louder. Doubt spread like wildfire.

A woman near the back, her press badge barely visible, raised her voice above the chatter.

“If Eve was a threat, why was she denied a public trial? Shouldn’t justice be transparent in a kingdom like ours?”

Darius’s eyes darkened.

“She was given every chance to prove her innocence. Her actions spoke louder than words. A public trial would have endangered more lives. Swift justice was the only course.”

Before the next question could be fired, a commotion rippled through the crowd.

Someone shouted from the civilians corralled behind the barricades.

“Liar!”

All eyes snapped toward the voice.

A man, older with gray streaks in his hair, was being dragged away by guards, thrashing against their grip.

“She was innocent! This was all built on fear! The Eclipse Rebellion will rise! The Bloodmoon—”

Another shot rang out as screams of horror tore through the crowd. The man slumped, his mouth open, his eyes suddenly glazed as another platinum bullet found its mark in his skull.

Screams erupted through the courtyard like a tidal wave, swallowing the thin veil of order that had barely held the crowd together. Panic rippled outward as people stumbled over one another, desperate to put distance between themselves and the lifeless body of the man, now sprawled in a pool of crimson that spread across the ancient stone.

The sharp tang of blood filled the air.

Guards barked orders, their weapons raised as if daring anyone else to speak out.

“Stand down!” one roared, his voice drowned beneath the chaos.

But it was too late.

The carefully orchestrated display of control had cracked, exposing the raw fear and dissent festering beneath the surface.

“Did you see that?” someone shrieked.

“They just shot him!”

“It was a public execution! A warning!” another cried, clutching their child to their chest.

I thought of Danielle, knowing what she would say at the sight.

“An execution is no place for a child,” she would grumble disapprovingly while rubbing her own swollen belly.

“No… no, this isn’t right.” A young woman trembled, staring at the blood seeping between the cobblestones.

I didn’t move.

My eyes were fixed on Darius.

For a fleeting moment, Darius stood frozen, gripping the balcony railing as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His face was blank, but his pale knuckles betrayed the tension in his grip.

Then, his cold mask snapped back into place.

“Silence!” his voice boomed, amplified to crush the rising hysteria.

The crowd faltered, caught between terror and obedience.

“This disruption will not be tolerated. The execution was carried out for the safety of Silverpine. Any attempts to undermine our security will be dealt with swiftly.”

His words were ice cold; they should have settled like a chill in their bones.

But they did little to calm the tremors of fear pulsing through the masses.

My jaw tightened. I pressed my fingers to my earpiece.

“Leon,” I growled, low and dark.

Static. Then, Leon’s sharp tone. “What the hell is happening out there?”

“They’re covering something up. Something is amiss.”

Leon exhaled slowly, his patience thinning. “You’ve confirmed the execution. Pull back.”

“No,” I snapped. My eyes flicked to the steel doors where Eve’s body had been taken.

“Something’s not right.” I could feel it.

A long pause.

Then Leon’s voice dropped, cold and deliberate.

“Fall out.” The two words were drenched in an unspoken threat.

I opened my mouth, but I was cut off by a sound that tore through the air—an ear-splitting, bone-rattling roar that silenced everything.

It wasn’t a wolf.

Every instinct in me locked up for a split second, something primal screaming in the back of my skull.

The crowd froze. The guards did too.

All heads snapped toward the steel doors at the back of the stage, the very ones where they’d dragged Eve’s lifeless body.

Boom.

The reinforced steel doors buckled.

Boom.

They crumpled inward like paper.

And then, it tore through.

A massive Lycan.

But not like any I’d ever seen.

Its blackened fur rippled like smoke, veins glowing faintly beneath its skin like molten cracks. Eyes burning crimson, wild and untamed. Its jaw—split wider than it should be—clamped around the mangled, bloodied body of a guard, armor crushed like tin.

It tossed the corpse aside like trash.

My breath fractured, my senses becoming heightened as I locked in.

Eve.

It was her.

This wasn’t a wolf. It was the Lycan. A werewolf had truly shifted as a Lycan.

Her steel restraints still hung from her limbs, twisted and broken, swinging loosely with each slow, deliberate step forward. Blood clung to her claws, dripping in thick streams onto the stone.

Gasps, screams, and sheer disbelief rippled through the crowd.

“By the Moon…” someone whimpered.

Guards scrambled to react, raising their weapons.

“E–Engage! Take it down!”

The first shot rang out.

Then another.

Platinum rounds lit up the air.

They should have slowed her.

They didn’t.

Eve moved—no, lunged—and the nearest soldier was in pieces before he could scream, his blood painting the execution stage.

Her roar split the sky again, louder this time, shaking the walls of the castle.

Panic erupted.

The crowd broke like a dam, people trampling each other in blind terror.