CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO: KAEL
The archives were a tomb of dust and the scent of decaying old leather.
But I didn’t mind the smell because to me, it smelled like opportunity.
For hours, I have been hunched over the table, my eyes burning from scanning the archaic script, but I couldn't stop.
The prophecy of the Lycan King wasn't just a legend anymore. It was real, and it was now a roadmap to everything I have ever wanted. I was the only one with the desperation required to follow it to the end.
I traced a finger over the ink, the words 'The True King shall rise only when bound by the soul-tether of a fated mate' seeming to glow on the page.
It was the missing piece, the singular hurdle standing between me and absolute power.
A fated mate.
For years, I had dismissed the concept of fa
