The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 198

Chapter 198

Elara’s face grew serious, the light in her eyes dimming slightly. “The prophecy isn’t just about you, is it? There’s more beneath the surface than what they’ve told us.” Her voice was low, almost hesitant.

Her words caught me off guard. “What makes you think that?” I asked, intrigued and a little unsettled.

“Dreams,” she replied simply, as if that explained everything. “I’ve been having them for weeks now. You—split in two. A woman with healing hands reaching out to you. And me…” She faltered, searching for the right words. “Me, wielding power I don’t understand, and honestly, don’t want.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. The nightmare I’d been plagued by—the one where I’m torn apart—Elara was dreaming it too? The thought unsettled me deeply.

Before I could ask more, Dominic approached quietly, his expression apologetic. “Your Highness, the Northern delegation has arrived and is waiting.”

Reluctantly, I stood and gave Elara a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll talk more later.”

She nodded, but her eyes remained clouded with worry as she turned back to her book, lost in thought.

The West Library, where I was to meet Princess Selene, was the oldest part of the palace. Its towering shelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, and stained glass windows cast vibrant patches of colored light across rows of ancient, leather-bound tomes. The air smelled faintly of old paper and polished wood, creating an atmosphere thick with history.

Princess Selene stood with three advisors—two elder men and a stern-looking woman who clearly held authority among them.

“Prince Alexander,” Selene greeted me with a flawless curtsy. Today, she wore a gown of shimmering silver-gray, her hair braided intricately and decorated with tiny crystals that caught the light like stars. “Thank you for meeting with us before the festivities begin.”

“Princess,” I replied with a respectful bow. “I understand you wish to discuss the prophecy texts your people have preserved.”

“Yes,” she said, gesturing toward a large, leather-bound volume resting on a reading table. “This is one of our most treasured relics—a complete transcription of the Prophecy of Balanced Power, saved when many similar manuscripts were lost or destroyed during the Crimson Rebellion.”

I approached the table cautiously, feeling the weight of history in the fragile book. “May I?” I asked.

The stern woman stepped forward. “Allow me, Your Highness. The text is delicate.” She opened the book carefully to a marked page, revealing faded script written in an ancient dialect of our language.

Leaning closer, I recognized the opening lines I had known since childhood: “When royal blood and healing power join as one, their offspring shall bridge divided worlds. Neither Alpha might nor healing gift shall rule alone, but balanced power born of both shall restore what was sundered.”

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