The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 186

The great hall falls silent as we enter, hundreds of wolves from every territory rising in unified respect. Not just for their king, but for the queen who has earned her place through sacrifice and courage beyond what tradition ever demanded. And for the child who represents a future none could have predicted when this journey began.

From my position on the ceremonial dais, I can see the varied reactions as Alexander surveys the gathered crowds with that unsettling focus. Some wolves bow lower, instinctively recognizing power beyond his infant form. Others watch with careful assessment, measuring reality against the prophecy's ancient words. A few – very few – show lingering concern in tightened jaws and narrowed eyes.

But none voice opposition as the head elder steps forward to begin the ancient rite of presentation. The ceremonial words flow in language older than any living wolf, acknowledging the heir to the throne that predates modern territories and alliances.

When the moment comes for Alexander to be formally presented to the kingdom, Sage passes him to me with perfect trust that still humbles something deep in my soul. Our son settles in my arms with remarkable calm, those violet eyes studying the proceedings with interest beyond his months.

"I present Alexander, son of Alaric and Sage, heir to the Lycan throne," I declare, voice carrying to every corner of the great hall. "Born of royal blood and healing lineage, uniting what tradition once divided."

The formal acknowledgment ripples through gathered wolves – some with nods of acceptance, others with widened eyes at direct reference to prophecy most expected to remain unspoken. Through our connection, I feel Sage's approval at the deliberate choice. No more hiding what our son represents. No more pretending his heritage is anything but the strength it truly is.

"The kingdom acknowledges Alexander as rightful heir," the elders respond in a unified voice that carries the weight of tradition and future acceptance combined.

As if understanding the significance of this moment, Alexander chooses this exact instant to display one of his emerging abilities. The ceremonial candles surrounding the dais suddenly flare brighter, their flames stretching toward the ceiling in perfect golden columns that cast the ancient throne in light seemingly summoned from the sun itself.

Gasps ripple through the great hall, followed by murmurs of wonder rather than fear. Through our connection, I feel Sage's momentary alarm followed by resigned amusement. Of course our son would choose the most public moment possible to demonstrate his growing powers.

The elder nearest me – an ancient wolf who has served three generations of my family – leans closer under the guise of a ceremonial blessing. "The prophecy child indeed," he murmurs, voice carrying no judgment but clear acknowledgment. "The Moon Goddess has blessed and challenged us equally with this one."

The ceremony continues with each territory offering formal acknowledgment of the heir, gifts presented with careful respect that has grown over months since Alexander's birth. Not universal acceptance, not yet, but progress beyond what seemed possible when Sage first entered my life as an unwanted mate my beast recognized before my mind could accept it.

Through it all, Alexander maintains remarkable composure, accepting each formal acknowledgment with dignity that sometimes makes me wonder if some ancient wisdom resides within that infant form. Only when the final territory completes its presentation does he begin showing signs of a pup’s restlessness, tiny hands reaching for his mother with clear preference.

Sage takes him with practiced ease, our connection flowing with shared relief as the formal ceremony concludes without incident. The transition to a celebratory feast allows a moment of relative privacy as everyone’s attention shifts to the elaborate preparations arranged throughout the great hall.

"He did perfectly," Sage murmurs, adjusting Alexander against her shoulder where he observes the proceedings with continued interest. "Better than we could have hoped."

"He's extraordinary," I agree, voice quiet enough that only she can hear. "Just like his mother."

"Thank you, Lord Harrison," Sage responds with quiet dignity that has earned respect even from those who once opposed her. "Your vigilance honors both throne and kingdom."

As Harrison withdraws to rejoin the celebration, Sage shifts Alexander to a position allowing easier observation of the festivities surrounding his presentation. His violet eyes track everything with that uncanny focus, tiny hands occasionally gesturing toward wolves or objects that catch his attention.

"He's reading them," Sage murmurs, voice pitched for my ears alone. "I can feel it through our connection. He's learning who supports us truly and who merely pretends for political advantage."

The revelation should disturb me – such an ability seems impossible. Yet nothing about our son has followed expected patterns since his conception. The prophecy spoke truth in its own way – balanced power manifesting in a child who embodies both royal authority and healing insight in ways neither Sage nor I fully understand yet.

"Then he's already developing the most important skill any future king requires," I respond, my hand resting protectively on her lower back. "Discernment about those who surround him."

Her smile holds a mixture of pride and lingering concern that mirrors my own feelings exactly. "What will he become, Alaric? What future awaits a child with such gifts?"

"His own," I answer with certainty that flows between us. "Whatever prophecy predicted, whatever abilities he develops, his path remains his to determine. With our guidance, our protection, our love to anchor him."