My shocked words echoed through the room, leaving a heavy, vibrating silence. I looked from Mia's tear-streaked face to Athena's weary gaze, feeling like a predator caged in a space far too small for its reach. The reinforced steel walls, once the pinnacle of security, now felt like thin sheets of tin. My body hummed with a restless energy, my mind sharpening to a jagged edge. I felt a heartbeat away from breaking through my own skin.
Just as the sensation threatened to consume me, Athena's voice cut through the static, drawing me back to the moment. "How are you feeling right now, Kayden?" She leaned forward, a subtle shadow of concern crossing her features. Her eyebrows knit as she reached out, pressing her palm against my forehead like a parent checking a sick child for fever. "Are you experiencing any dizziness? Lightheadedness or nausea?" I brushed her hand away with the back of my own, letting out an irritated huff. "I'm fine," I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. I shoved myself upward, determined to walk away from them and their suffocating concern. But the movement was a mistake. A sudden, violent wave of lightheadedness crashed over me, turning the room into a blur. My knees buckled, and I fell back onto the mattress I had only just vacated.
Mia was on me in a second, her hands fluttering near my shoulders, her eyes wide with that suffocating brand of concern. "Are you alright? Kayden, please—just sit." I felt my jaw clench until it ached. I hated the way they looked at me—like a glass sculpture one breeze away from shattering. I wasn't weak; I refused to be handled as if I were. Athena didn't fuss. She let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back into her chair. She didn't reach out to touch me again, which I appreciated, but her gaze remained steady. "For the next day or so, while your body readjusts from a near-death state, dizziness and weakness are to be expected," she said, her tone factual but not unkind. "It will fade. However, considering you were under for nearly a week, I suggest you stick to light, nutrient-dense foods today. You need to give your body the time it needs to strengthen, and your system the chance to acclimate to being back among the land of the living."
I didn't bother replying. Instead, I forced myself upright once again, this time managing to find my feet without the room spinning. My muscles felt frayed and unreliable, but I refused to stay on that mattress for another second. Mia rose instantly from her crouch. Her expression was a landscape of raw worry—brow pinched, eyes shimmering with a relief that was quickly being eclipsed by fear. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they hovered inches from my bicep, as if she were trying to catch a falling star before it hit the ground. "Kayden, please," she whispered, her voice tight and small. "You're shaking. Just sit for five more minutes. Let your body rest; you just woke from a coma. You need—"
I didn't let her finish. I stepped wide, my shoulder pivoting just out of reach, so her hand fell through empty air. I didn't want her concern, and I certainly didn't want the pity etched into the corners of her mouth. I clenched my jaw, the muscle leaping in my cheek. "I told you, I'm fine," I snapped, the metallic edge in my voice cutting through her concern like a blade. I didn't look at her, focusing instead on the heavy door. "Stop worrying about me. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."
I felt her gaze lingering on my back—heavy, sad, and full of the words she was choking back. It made the air feel thick, but I kept my eyes locked forward. I had nearly reached the center of the room, every step a calculated war against the lingering fog in my mind, when a single word stopped me. Athena's voice was steady and authoritative, an anchor dropped in the middle of my retreat. "Kayden." Athena's voice wasn't loud, but it had that weight to it—the kind that made my instincts flare. I stopped. I didn't turn my whole body; I didn't trust my legs to handle a full pivot without betraying me. Instead, I turned my head just enough to lock onto her gaze.
Athena was standing now, the chair abandoned behind her. Despite the weariness behind her violet eyes, her hand was rock-steady as she reached out over the mattress toward me. Dangled by its neck between two of her fingers was a small, glass vial. The vial was shaped like a teardrop, the glass tinted a soft lavender. It was translucent, catching the harsh, artificial light of the war room and softening it into a pale glow. I could see a liquid shifting inside, though its color remained a mystery behind the tint of the bottle. "Here," she said, her voice dropping into a flat, bored tone. "Take this."
I didn't move. I stayed exactly where I was, a heartbeat from the door. I wouldn't take a single step back toward them. I raised an eyebrow, my expression guarded. "Why? What's in it?" Athena sighed again—that bored, exasperated sound she made whenever she thought I was being difficult. "This vial holds a medicinal blend of herbs and plants. Put a single drop into your drink or mix it into your food. Within an hour, you will fall into a deep, restful sleep."
I snorted, a sharp, cynical sound that vibrated in my ribs. I rolled my eyes, irritation flaring through my limbs. "I don't need it. I've slept enough for a lifetime these last few days. Trust me, I'm fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure my work has been piling up. Plus," I added, my voice hardening, "I have a battle to prepare for." Before turning, I caught a glimpse of Athena out of the corner of my eye. Her hand, still holding that lavender vial, dropped slowly to her side. As my attention locked back onto the heavy door and the freedom waiting beyond it.
I had only taken two steps when her voice rang out again, slicing through the silence. "Kayden." I stopped, shoulders tensing. This time, I didn't turn. I just stared at the reinforced steel of the exit, my jaw working. "You need rest," she said, her voice dropping that clinical edge for something more solemn. "Even if you don't think you do. Especially for this upcoming battle." I took a heavy step forward, my silence the only answer I intended to give. I had no desire for her medicine, and even less for this argument.
Behind me, I heard her let out a long, sharp sigh—the sound of a goddess losing her patience. "Very well," she said, her tone shifting. It was no longer a suggestion; it was a decree. "Have it your way. But you'd better be ready. Tomorrow, we start your training at nine o'clock sharp. Bright and early." That stopped me cold. I turned my head, looking back at her with a flash of genuine confusion. "Training? Training for what?"
Athena raised a single eyebrow, and for the first time since I had woken, a small, amused smirk tugged at her mouth. "You are going to need time—and likely assistance—to grasp your new abilities. And who better to train you than the Goddess of War and Wisdom herself?" She paused, her gaze raking over me with a look that made me feel like a messy draft of a poem she was about to edit. "Though I don't expect to correct a lifetime of bad habits in forty-eight hours. But," she added with a shrug, "we do what we can."
A growl started deep in my chest, a low vibration that matched the restless hum under my skin. I ground my teeth, my irritation flaring white-hot. "I would suggest we begin now," she continued, rubbing her tired eyes, "but seeing as it's already getting late, it's better if we both get some rest instead."
"Fine," I huffed, the word tasting like lead. My jaw was so tight it ached. "I will meet you in the training hall at nine sharp." Athena responded without the slightest ounce of hesitation, her eyes flashing with a spark of that divine authority. "The training hall won't do. The outdoor arena would be better—it's larger, and more secluded." I felt my anger rise, a hot prickle at the back of my neck. I hated being managed, especially when I felt this diminished. "Fine," I bit out, my voice harsh and final. "Just don't be late."
Without another word, I turned and crossed the rest of the room in a few purposeful strides. Every muscle in my legs felt like cooling glass—brittle and dangerously heavy—but I refused to let my pace falter. Just as my hand closed over the cold metal handle, I froze. I didn't intend to. My body simply locked as Athena's voice drifted across the room again. This time, she wasn't talking to me. "Here, Amelia. Take this." I didn't turn. I kept my grip tight on the handle, my knuckles white against the steel. I could hear the faint, melodic clink of the lavender glass meeting something—likely Mia's hand.
"Even if he refuses to admit it, he is going to need his sleep," Athena's voice carried across the room, steady and cold as a winter stream. "He is prideful. He feels as if he's failed the pack by being gone while a war looms ahead. You and I both know he will try to overcompensate, working himself to the bone without a wink of rest." I ground my teeth so hard I thought one might crack. The accuracy of her words stung more than the tremors in my legs. "If he does that," Athena continued, "he will only weaken himself further. He will be no good to you or his people when the battle finally arrives. I am giving this to you to ensure that doesn't happen. A single drop in his food, without his knowledge. Make sure he is somewhere comfortable an hour later. He will sleep—whether he likes it or not."
The betrayal of it—the casual way they plotted to medicate me—made the hair on my arms stand up. I should have turned. I should have snarled, snatched that vial, and shattered it against the floor. But I didn't. Despite the white-hot anger, I knew their conspiracy was born of a suffocating concern. I couldn't bring myself to act rashly against the two people who had spent a week keeping my soul tethered to my body—and keeping my pack alive and safe while I was gone. Instead, I pulled the heavy handle, the hinges groaning in the silence. I stepped into the hallway without a word, the sound of the vault sealing shut behind me feeling less like a door and more like a sentence.
The echo of that seal was still ringing in my mind when a different sound fractured the quiet. Rap. Rap. Rap. It was light but firm—a knuckles-to-wood rasp that didn't just break the silence; it shattered the reality I'd been inhabiting. I jolted, my heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs. I blinked, and the sterile, underground gray of the war room vanished. I wasn't standing at the vault.
I was in my private study, gripped by the high-backed chair. My hands weren't clutching a steel handle; they were white-knuckled around the armrests of my desk, the wood grain biting into my palms. I was staring intently out the window, watching the sky bruise with deep purples and ink-blacks as the horizon bled out. When I had first sat down, the world had been a sea of orange and soft pink. I hadn't moved. For two hours, I had existed only in the shadows, my mind trapped in a loop of the war room, the lavender vial, and the secret pact whispered behind my back.
Rap. Rap. Rap. The light but firm rasping against the heavy oak shattered the silence like a stone through glass. I jolted, my breath hitching in a chest that felt far too tight. The ink-black sky in the window snapped into focus, and I realized for the first time just how dark the room had become. The "freedom" I had chased after leaving the vault had turned into a self-imposed cage of memory and shadow.
I blinked, my vision swimming as I forced myself to look away from the window. My hands were still clamped onto the armrests, my knuckles aching from a grip I didn't remember tightening. I'd come here to work—to prove I was ready—but I'd only managed to lose myself in the very weakness I was trying to outrun. The knock came again, more insistent, pulling me the rest of the way back to the present. "Enter," I croaked. My voice sounded thin and hollow, swallowed by the dark.
The heavy door creaked open, admitting a sliver of light that sliced through the shadows. Mia stepped inside, moving with a cautious grace, as if she were trying not to startle a wounded animal. She carried a wooden tray, its weight slowing her stride. On it sat a ceramic bowl and a tall stone mug, both sending up plumes of white steam that curled into the cool air. The scent hit me a second later—savory broth and the sharp, medicinal tang of herbal tea.
My jaw clenched as I intertwined my fingers on the desk, my gaze fixed on her. "You haven't even turned on a light, Kayden," she murmured, her voice soft and cautious. Before I could respond, she reached out and flicked the switch. The sudden overhead glow was a physical blow, forcing me to squint as the shadows I'd been hiding in were stripped away. She made her way to the desk and set the tray down on the corner, far enough from the stacks of papers to be respectful, but close enough that the heat from the bowl brushed against my arm. The clink of the wood against the desk sounded deafening in the silence.
"Athena said you needed to eat," she continued. Her hands lingered on the tray for a moment before she shoved them into the pockets of her blazer. "I made some beef bone broth—it's light, like she suggested. And I brewed some tea to help with any... any lingering chills you might be feeling," she added, her voice dipping into that soft, melodic register she used when she was trying to soothe the pack. I looked down at the tray. The tea was a dark, murky amber; the soup was clear and golden. Both looked innocent enough. But as I watched the steam curl from the mug, I could still hear Athena's voice echoing in the back of my skull: Just a drop into his drink or food without his knowledge.
I looked back at Mia. In the new, harsh light, her face was pale, but her expression was steady. Her eyes searched mine with a look that was almost too honest to be a lie. Almost. "I'm not hungry," I said, though my stomach gave a traitorous, hollow ache at the smell of the broth. "Just a few sips, Kayden. I made sure it's all your favorite things," she pleaded gently. "For me? You need your strength if you're going to be in that arena at nine tomorrow." When she saw me hesitate, she sighed. "Please. Your body is still reeling from the trauma it just endured. You need this to help regain your strength."
She turned and walked toward the door, her heels clicking a sharp rhythm against the wooden floor. At the threshold, she paused, looking back one last time. "I have other things to tend to, so be sure to eat your fill. I'll be back later." With those final words, she disappeared, the heavy oak door swinging shut and cutting off her retreating figure.
I stared down at the tray, a sigh rattling in my empty chest. The silence of the office felt heavier now, the steam from the bowl rising like a ghost in the light. Pushing my reservations aside, I pulled the tray toward me. My hand shook, just a fraction, as I picked up the spoon. I forced myself to dip it into the soup, watching the golden broth swirl. As I lifted it to my lips, the savory scent promised a strength I hadn't felt in days.
I swallowed the first spoonful. It was warm—perfectly seasoned—sliding down my throat and blooming like a small fire in my gut. The second the broth hit my stomach, a dull, sudden rumble echoed through the office. It was jarring. My body hadn't felt a spark of hunger since the moment I'd awakened, but as the food hit my tongue, the animal inside finally woke alongside my consciousness. I took another spoonful, then another, suddenly unable to stop. I ate with a silent, desperate intensity until the hollow ache finally began to subside. By the time I stopped to breathe, I had already devoured nearly the entire bowl.
I set the spoon down with a quiet clink and stared wearily at the cup of tea lingering on the tray. I hesitated, weighing my suspicion against the dry scratch in my throat. Finally, I forced the concern back and lifted the stone mug, sliding the tray toward the edge of my desk to clear a space. I set the cup down on my right. The steam rose in a thin, lazy ribbon as I reached for the first stack of papers. It can't hurt to have a beverage while I attempt to get some actual work done, I told myself. Hopefully. I knew the risks. Even if the food and drink had been spiked, I couldn't bring myself to stop. My pride was still there—stinging and sharp—but beneath it was the cold, hard realization that Athena was right. I couldn't fight a war as an empty shell. If this was a trap, at least it was one built from kindness. I picked up the first report, the ink blurring slightly under the light, and took a long, slow sip of the tea.
*
*
The world was a blur of lengthening shadows and the sharp, rhythmic pounding of my paws against the forest floor. Hours had bled into one another, the pale grey of dawn long since replaced by the bruised purples and deep indigos of a dying sun. The last sliver of golden light clung to the horizon like a fading memory. I was exhausted, my lungs burning with every jagged breath, but the silver fire in my blood kept me moving.
Up ahead, the dense treeline opened into a small clearing, and my heart hardened into a cold stone. Tigers. Zander's scouts. I could smell them—a sharp, artificial scent that didn't belong in these woods. There were four of them, their massive bodies silhouetted against the encroaching night. Normally, I would have veered off, using the terrain to ghost past them. But the desperation that had driven me from the pack had fused with something much more volatile. I didn't turn. I didn't slow down. I lowered my head and charged, my claws digging deep into the loamy soil.
Suddenly, the wind seemed to die, and a voice echoed through my mind so clearly it felt as if she were running right beside me. "Use the power I have bestowed upon you, Artemis." Gaia's voice was a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in my very marrow. "Demeter's power dwells within you, allowing you to coax life from the soil and manipulate the very plants that breathe with the forest. Combined with my authority over the earth itself, the possibilities of how you control these outcomes are endless." As quickly as she had appeared, her presence vanished, leaving my mind eerily quiet as the sounds of the forest—and the snarls of the tigers—rushed back in.
The tigers finally caught my scent. They whirled, snarling, predatory eyes locking onto my white fur as I tore toward them. They didn't hesitate; they lunged—four streaks of orange and black muscle closing the distance with lethal intent. I didn't flinch. I felt my body begin to hum, a strange, vibrant heat radiating from my core. I pictured the earth not as solid stone, but as a living, breathing extension of my own will. I thought of the ground rising, of the forest protecting its own.
Just as the lead tiger prepared to spring, the ground beneath my paws surged. With a violent, silent grace, the earth shot upward. A massive mound formed in a heartbeat—a literal wave of soil and stone that carried me high into the air. The startled tigers had no time to react; the rising earth crashed into them with the force of a falling mountain, sending them crumpling into a heap. I heard the heavy thud of bodies hitting the dirt, their snarls turning into yelps of confusion as they were swept aside like autumn leaves.
The hill didn't stop. It moved with me, a rolling wave of earth that kept my momentum steady while the world below dissolved into chaos. I felt like I was riding the very heartbeat of the planet. Once I had cleared the clearing and left the stunned scouts far behind, I focused on the ground again. With a final, fluid thought, the earth settled, flattening out behind me as if the terrain had never moved at all. I hit the trail without losing a single beat of my stride, my paws striking the dirt with a new, reinforced strength.