The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 227

**Never Love 227**

Selene

A tempest of uncertainty rages within me as I contemplate the task that lies ahead this evening. The weight of expectation hangs heavily upon my shoulders, a constant reminder of my duty, especially under the scrutinizing gaze of Magistra Vega. Her sharp eyes seem to pierce through my very thoughts, making it clear that there is no room for hesitation.

Yet, despite the urgency of the moment, my mind drifts back to earlier today—the encounter that has shaken my resolve to its very foundation. The Silverspiral healer I met has left an indelible mark on my thoughts, a haunting presence that lingers as I navigate the dense forest alongside our small party. The location of the healer enclave is etched in my memory, a product of countless hours poring over maps, scout reports, and ancient texts that hint at where these elusive healers might seek refuge after the purges. But knowing where to look and actually finding them are two vastly different challenges; these individuals have evaded capture for generations, slipping through the fingers of those who seek them.

Suddenly, a scout emerges from the shadows, moving with the grace of a shadow itself. He drops to one knee before me, his posture a blend of respect and urgency. “Princess,” he breathes, “we’ve located the settlement. It’s half a mile north, nestled against the cliff face. They appear to be in the process of evacuation.”

Krell’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, low and menacing. “They know we’re coming.”

Vega’s expression hardens, her resolve unyielding. “Then we move now,” she commands, gesturing for our group to advance. “Remember, our objective is to find a healer with the silver spiral birthmark. We must avoid unnecessary violence.”

With that, we plunge deeper into the darkened embrace of the forest, our guards on high alert, weapons drawn but not yet raised in aggression. As we approach the settlement, the scene before me unfolds like a chaotic tapestry—people hurriedly gathering their belongings, children huddled together for comfort, and the elderly leaning on younger members for support. The air is thick with tension and fear, a palpable energy that makes my heart race.

“Stop!” Krell’s voice booms as we step into the clearing, resonating with the authority of military command. “By order of the Northern delegation, remain where you are!”

A ripple of panic sweeps through the gathered healers. Some stand frozen in place, their eyes wide with fear, while others instinctively move to protect the children. An elderly woman steps forward, her white hair cascading around her shoulders like a halo, her clouded eyes somehow finding me amidst the chaos. Despite her apparent blindness, she locks onto me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

“You bring weapons to a healing enclave,” she states, her voice surprisingly firm and unwavering. “Your ancestors would be ashamed.”

Her words strike me like a blow, a pointed reminder of my lineage that leaves me momentarily speechless. “We mean no harm to your people,” I manage to reply, stepping forward with a sense of urgency. “We seek only one individual—a healer with the silver spiral birthmark.”

A subtle but unmistakable reaction ripples through the community, a shared glance among them that speaks volumes. The old woman’s expression hardens, her resolve evident. “There is no one here by that description.”

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