The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 102

My hands shake as I try to heal another warrior, the mutations fighting my power in ways I’ve never encountered. Black corruption spreads through his veins like living ink, pulsing with wrongness that makes my stomach turn. Each time I push it back with healing energy, it adapts, finding new paths through flesh and blood. Nothing in my training, nothing in any of the ancient texts, prepared me for this.

The warrior writhes under my hands, his partially shifted form caught between wolf and man. Scales ripple beneath his fur where the corruption spreads, turning healthy tissue into something twisted and wrong. I pour more power into the wounds, but it’s like trying to hold back a tide with bare hands.

“Lady Sage!” A young wolf bursts in, blood soaking his uniform as he carries another victim. His eyes hold raw terror I’ve never seen in our warriors before. “Please-”

But three more follow right behind him, each bearing wounded that need immediate attention. The healing wing overflows with the injured and dying, their pain flooding my senses until I can barely think.

“Focus,” Aura commands. “One at a time. That’s all we can do.”

But it’s not enough. For every warrior I manage to stabilize, three more arrive with wounds that resist my healing. The mutations evolve even as I work, learning from each encounter how to fight my power.

Then I feel it – Alaric’s fury and grief exploding through our bond like a physical blow. The force of his anguish nearly brings me to my knees.

“Sage?” The head healer questions when I stumble toward the door.

“Keep working,” I command. “Do what you can. I have to—”

But she sees it in my eyes. Feels the mate bond pulling me toward Alaric’s pain

The battlefield before me is a nightmare made real. Twisted forms of mutant wolves clash with our warriors under a blood–red moon. The very air feels wrong, thick with the stench of corruption and death. Each breath burns in my lungs like I’m inhaling poison. But I follow our bond like a beacon, letting Alaric’s pain guide me through the carnage.

The sounds alone will haunt my dreams forever – the unnatural shrieks of mutant wolves, the desperate howls of our warriors, the wet tearing of flesh and cracking of bone. Corruption spreads across the ground itself, blackening grass and earth where mutant blood spills.

I find him in the heart of the chaos, his lycan form massive and terrible. His midnight fur, usually so sleek and beautiful, is matted with blood and gore. But it’s the sight in his arms that stops my heart – Perseus’s broken body, silver fur stained crimson, torn almost beyond recognition. The corruption spreads through his still form like black lightning across the sky, a mockery of the power that once ran through his veins.

“Alaric.” I reach for him but he jerks away, a feral growl rumbling in his chest.

“Save him.” His voice is barely recognizable, more beast than man. “You can heal anything. Save him!”

“Sweetling…” His voice softens and my heart breaks at the desperate plea in his eyes.

Chapter 102

“I can’t. He’s already-”

“NO!” The roar shakes the very ground. “You have to try. You have to-”

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He shifts back to human form but his eyes stay amber, his beast too close to the surface. Blood pours from wounds he won’t let me treat, corruption spreading through his veins while he clutches his father’s body.

“Please.” His voice cracks on the word. “Please, Sage. I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not because of me. He took that blow for me. He shouldn’t have–it should have been-” His words dissolve into a sound of pure anguish that tears at my heart.

“He’s wild with grief,” Aura whines. “Not thinking clearly. The corruption spreads through his own wounds while he holds his father.”

“Alaric, look at me.” I cup his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. Blood from his hands smears across my skin but I don’t care. “He’s gone. I’m so sorry, but he’s gone. He died protecting you, protecting his son, his heir. Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain. You’re bleeding, the corruption spreads—”

“I don’t care!” He shoves my hands away with enough force to make me stumble. His eyes blaze with fever from the spreading corruption, grief making him savage. “Save him! You heal everything else, why won’t you heal him? Why won’t you try? He’s my father, my-” His voice breaks completely as he clutches Perseus’s body closer, rocking slightly. “Please, sweetling. Please. I’ll do anything. Just bring him back to me.”

The raw desperation in his voice nearly breaks me. I’ve never seen him like this – my proud, powerful mate reduced to begging. But death is the one enemy I can’t fight, the one wound I can’t heal.

A howl of pain cuts him off – another warrior falls nearby. I look across the battlefield and see nothing but death. Mutant wolves that won’t stay down no matter how many times our warriors tear them apart. Corrupted flesh knitting back together even as I watch.

All this power in my blood, all these healing gifts, and I can’t save the ones who matter most. Can’t bring back the dead. Can’t stop these monsters from killing everyone I love.

Something builds in my chest – not just rage or grief but something ancient and terrible. A power that has nothing to do with gentle healing, nothing to do with mending broken flesh. This burns like molten moonlight in my veins, like starfire and lightning combined. It rises from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, deeper than memory itself.

My pendant burns against my throat, the tiny crescent moon seeming to pulse with its own light. The power builds until I think it will tear me apart, until my very bones feel like they’ll shatter from containing it.

“Let it come,” Aura growls, her presence merging with mine until we are one being of pure, terrifying power. Let it ALL come.”

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