The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

The nightmares came haunting again.
The roars, the cries of terror, the flames, the commotion-all came hunting him in the darkness.
Duncan, run!
The horrific face of his mother flashed in his mind. His father, the Lycan King who stood by her side, had lost all hope. The once stoic, bold, and calm expression was replaced with sheer devastation and anguish...
Those eyes were full of guilt. Guilt for not being able to end the war and for failing to protect his people.
And just like that, Duncan saw red-the flames engulfing them right before his eyes.
"Nooo!!!"
A loud growl rumbled through Duncan's chest as he snapped out of the nightmare. He sat up in the bathtub, the water rippling around him with the sudden movement.
He clutched his head, a sharp pain slicing through his skull.
It happened now and then-the cruel reminders of the past bringing unbearable, immeasurable pain to his chest.
Centuries had passed, yet it still haunted him, wrapping around his soul like a second skin.
How could it not, when everything he had cherished burned to ash in the blink of an eye?
He was the youngest prince back then. His older brother-the crown prince-had been mated to an Ouroboros princess. That union had sparked the war.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. Duncan's deep voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Who is it?"
"It's Nyra, Your Grace. The Seer has returned," came a soft voice from behind the door.
Immediately, Duncan rose from the tub.
Moments later, he stepped out into the cottage, now dressed in a black tunic of fine linen that hung loosely across his broad shoulders.
Nyra, a young sage, led him through a dimly lit corridor, the flickering torchlight casting dancing shadows along the stone walls.
They stopped at an arched door carved with ancient symbols.
Nyra opened it, allowing Duncan into the Seer's chamber. The interior stood wide and tall, having shelf lined with books,, herb and some mysterious material.
In the center stood an old, blind yet graceful woman-Evelora-cloaked in silver and deep green.
She couldn't see, yet her sight into the spiritual realm surpassed all.
As a Seer, she was among the few closest to the Moon Goddess-able to perceive what the Goddess herself chose to reveal. Like the Lycans, Seers were a chosen bloodline meant to serve and protect the realm.
"Your Grace... my apologies for the delay," Evelora greeted.
But Duncan's gaze was restless.
"You already know why I'm here," he said, stepping toward her.
"Your Grace-"
"Who is she?" he interrupted, stopping just inches from her. Before she could answer, he added, "And do not speak in riddles. I want the truth-clear and straightforward. Who. Is. She?"
Evelora snorted, amused. "She must have troubled you and your Lycan so deeply, you couldn't even spare me a proper greeting."
Duncan pressed his temple. "Now's not the time for pleasantries. I just-"
He cut off as the old woman suddenly pulled him into a hug. His body went stiff.
Duncan raised a brow. "The hell do you think you're doing, old woman?"
"Who are you calling old, ancient one? I'm jealous your looks and skin haven't even changed despite the centuries," she said, and when Duncan didn't reply, she teased, "You're such a cold punk... It's been thirty-seven years since you last visited. Don't you have the nerve to miss an old friend?" Evelora released him.
Duncan sighed. "Let's just talk and skip the tea-"
"Nonsense," Evelora began walking away. "Tea first, then discussion after."
Reluctantly, Duncan followed her up the tower, where they had a view of the surrounding forest. Nyra brought the tea, setting it neatly on the table before taking her leave.
As Evelora lifted her cup, Duncan spoke impatiently. "Is she my mate?"
"Yes... and no," she replied.
Duncan's brows arched sharply. "What?"
"Her fate is entwined with yours. Your fate with hers lies on a path that cannot be predicted. It's left to you, Your Grace," Evelora paused. "It's up to you to either claim her... or let her go."
Duncan's eyes narrowed. "But she had a mate-a bastard who rejected her-and that bastard isn't dead. So how could she be mated to me in any way?"
"Yours is different from the usual chronicles, Your Grace."
Duncan's jaw clenched. "She's one of them, isn't she? She bears the crescent mark. I've seen it once."
Even though Duncan already knew the answer, part of him wished it weren't true. That he wasn't drawn to someone who bore that blood.
Evelora nodded. "Yes."
Duncan stilled, his shoulders hunched as he bit the inside of his cheek. "The Ouroboros are dead," he whispered. "I, along with the rest of the Lycans in that bloody war, killed every last one of them. Then how?" he uttered through gritted teeth. "How is she one of them?"
"My words are limited. I can only say what the Moon Goddess permits me to."
Her response wasn't satisfying. He wanted more, but Evelora was bound by divine restriction. He stayed silent, letting the weight of her words settle in his chest.
A bitter laugh slipped from Duncan's throat. "I've waited for centuries... for the fated mate you claimed would be my redemption. The one who would heal me from the insanity that's slowly consuming my mind. And now... this?"
Evelora's expression contorted into something unreadable. "This is beyond the Moon Goddess's plan, Your Grace... It's an unpredictable future-one that rests on your own choices."
Duncan drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. The air turned quiet, broken only by the soft rustling of the breeze and the gentle sound Evelora made while sipping her tea.
"What if I make the wrong decision? What happens then?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.
The Seer paused, raising her head in his direction. The serious look on her face deepened. "Then the kingdom will fall... and you will fall with it."
The frown on Duncan's face deepened.
"She is both the key to your salvation and the dagger poised at your heart. She is the light that can pierce your darkness... or the flame that will consume you whole. That is why your Lycan is restless. But your heart must make that decision."
After a long moment, Duncan finally rose to leave. He had much to deal with-especially the rogues, who seemed to have a strange and powerful leader guiding them.
"It shouldn't take another thirty-seven years for you to visit again, Your Grace!" Evelora's voice followed him.
Duncan nodded. "Thanks for the tea, old one."
As he turned to leave, Evelora spoke again, her voice trailing behind him.
"And remember... the heart always knows the answer, but it rarely chooses the easy path."
After the King left, Nyra walked up to stand beside Evelora.
"She is the one, isn't she?" Nyra asked softly. "The one you prayed to the gods day and night to end before she crossed paths with the King."
Evelora sighed. "I did my best, but it seems the heavens want this to happen."
"You should have told him, old one," Nyra said, her expression worried. "You should have told him he was mated to her dragon bloodline, not her wolf. If he finds out on his own, he might do something he'll regret. Something terrible."
Evelora knew this too well, but it was best to keep it hidden. "She cannot be separated from him. He has already fed the primal connection between them. I can only hope history will not repeat itself."