Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 182: A Black Cub

The royal palace grounds, once serene and adorned with blooming gardens, were now cloaked in a tension so thick it was suffocating.

The moon hung heavy in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the sprawling landscape. Shadows danced across the cobblestone paths, distorted by the flickering flames of the blazing main palace.

The servants had managed to put out the fire, but as it made its way to the annex, the building was simply severed by the rest of the palace by the hidden stone gates that isolated the annex, ensuring that the flames would no longer spread around.

The gypsies moved like silent phantoms through the darkness, their vibrant cloaks blending into the surrounding trees as they encircled the palace.

Armed with curved blades, spears, and bows, they stationed themselves at every possible escape route. No one would leave the palace grounds alive tonight—not if they had their way.

Their current leader, a wiry man with piercing green eyes, raised a hand, signaling his people to hold their positions. Their breaths misted in the cold air, but their courage was as unyielding as iron.

Inside the palace walls, the atmosphere was equally charged.

Rhaegar stood at the forefront of his men, his black armor glinting under the torchlight. His amber eyes, glowing faintly with lycan fury, swept across the faces of his soldiers.

Half of them had already left with Gian. Their task was clear: find Kai, the new King of Erelith, and end him without hesitation.

Rhaegar’s group, however, bore the heavier burden. Their mission was to cut the serpent at its head—to find and kill the ghoul queen.

Rhaegar’s voice, deep and commanding, broke the heavy silence. "This is not a battle for glory. This is a selfish act of revenge against those who harmed your queen. We will kill the ghoul witch and help the innocent people of Erelith break free from the chains of her black magic. That’s all there is to it."

The men nodded, their expressions grim yet resolute. Steel gleamed as weapons were drawn, and shields clattered as they prepared for what lay ahead.

A sudden, chilling cry pierced the night—an animalistic howl that sent shivers down every spine. Rhaegar’s lips curled into a snarl. It was time.

With a sharp gesture, he led his men toward the palace’s grand entrance, the weight of destiny pressing heavily on his shoulders. Tonight, blood would decide the fate of the kingdom.

Tonight, blood would put an end to the evil left unleashed.

***

Lorelai tossed and turned, her body wracked with discomfort, each muscle feeling sore and alien beneath her skin.

Her eyes darted rapidly beneath closed lids, caught in the grip of bizarre dreams that veiled her mind with a thick fog of frustration.

It was strange—this all-consuming emptiness that weighed her down, yet somehow, she knew it was her.

She found herself moving slowly through the royal palace, her limbs jerking sharply as though invisible strings were pulling her along. Like a lifeless puppet under someone else’s control, she had no command over her body. Yet, her thoughts remained her own, her mind disturbingly clear, her emotions vivid.

Then, without warning, it was as if the strings were severed with a clean cut of a pair of scissors. Her body went slack, and gravity dragged her to the cold, unyielding ground.

A groan escaped her lips. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she sensed something new—freedom. Her body felt light, almost weightless, as though she could take flight and escape the suffocating darkness.

Her hands and legs moved instinctively, pushing her upright. Relief surged through her chest, her heart fluttering with a fragile mix of excitement and hope. But as she lifted her hands to inspect them, her breath caught in her throat.

Her palms were covered in blood.

With her eyes wide in shock, Lorelai staggered back, her breathing labored, her heart galloping inside her chest. Above her, the large silver disc of the full moon hung in the night sky, its cold light illuminating the horrifying scene before her.

Her home, the royal palace, stood drenched in eerie malevolence. Glowing ominously in the pale moonlight, its walls were covered in sinister runes and intricate patterns drawn in blood. The sharp, metallic stench filled the air, making her stomach churn and her knees tremble.

She wanted to scream, to run—to do anything—but her body betrayed her. Her legs felt as though they had turned to stone, rooting her in place. It was as if the invisible prison she had spent her entire life trying to escape had returned, its iron bars closing in around her once more.

"No... please..." she whispered, her voice trembling as tears spilled down her cheeks. Collapsing to her knees, her big green eyes darted desperately across the desolate landscape, searching for hope where there seemed to be none.

Was it really hopeless? Was she trapped again?

Just as despair began to consume her, a faint, fragile whimper cut through the oppressive silence. Her head snapped to the left, her heart skipping a beat. In the distance, a small black wolf cub was racing toward her, its tiny frame almost invisible in the shadows. But its amber eyes glowed fiercely in the dark, brimming with purpose.

Lorelai’s heartbeat quickened, and a flicker of light ignited in her eyes—a spark of hope. Her lips quivered into a small, trembling smile. Without thinking, she spread her arms wide, silently inviting the little wolf into her embrace.

The cub leaped into her arms without hesitation, its soft, warm body curling against her chest as though it had always belonged there.

Tears streaked her face, but for the first time, they carried a trace of relief. Stroking the cub’s silky fur, Lorelai whispered softly, her voice heavy with gratitude, "Thank you... Thank you..."

Opening her eyes wide, Lorelai jolted upright, her sudden movement causing her head to collide painfully with Alim’s sturdy chest. Disoriented and gasping for breath, she felt the sharp ache reverberate through her skull, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming panic surging within her.

Heart pounding, she instinctively clutched at Alim’s vest, her trembling fingers digging into the fabric as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Her voice, hoarse and quivering, broke the tense silence, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

"Rhaegar! Where... where is my husband?"