Chapter 24 — Ethan
By now, I could find my way to the infirmary blindfolded. After countless post-training visits, Dr. Olcan and I know each other far better than either of us would like.
When I walk in, I don’t have to look far for him. I catch him walking out of one of the rooms, his white robe splattered with flecks of red. He must have just gotten done treating Holden.
“Ethan, back again?” He adjusts his glasses, scanning me for obvious injuries. “You don’t look hurt. I assumed you’d taken another beating in training.”
“No, not this time.” I grin. “Just came to talk.”
He shakes his head. “This summit is keeping me busier than a swordsmanship tournament. Let me change out of these robes. You can accompany me. We’ll talk in my office.”
I trail behind him as he moves through the curved corridor until we reach a door that seems out of place, like someone forgot to plan for it. No other entrances or exits break up this stretch of hallway. Just this single door leading to his private space.
The door swings open, revealing a compact room that defies easy categorization. It’s not an office or living quarters, but a hybrid of both.
Stepping inside, a sharp, medicinal scent hits my nostrils: bitter and earthy. I know it from somewhere, but the memory hovers just out of reach.
Towering shelves line one wall, crammed with leather-bound volumes that practically scream medical terminology.
The spines are worn smooth from frequent handling.
A well-used armchair sits nearby, its burgundy leather creased and faded from time.
A small side table holds an oil lamp, currently unlit.
A desk sits in the center of the room, cluttered with paper and writing utensils. On the other side of the room, a tall screen blocks my view of whatever’s behind it.
“What is that smell?” I ask as Dr. Olcan walks towards the screen.
Behind it appears to be a tub or some sort of large basin.
“What smell?” Dr. Olcan takes off his robe without looking at me, stripping down to nothing.
My eyes dart away. Nope. Never gonna get used to the blatant nudity around here.
“That bitter, herby smell.”
“Ah, that would be Blackroot,” Dr. Olcan says over the sound of rushing water from behind the screen.
Is he taking a fucking bath right now? I don’t dare look.
“Quite pungent, isn’t it? Holden presented me with a box of it as a gift from the Shaman shortly after they arrived.” Water splashes against his face as he continues talking. “It doesn’t smell great, but it has excellent medicinal properties. Helps with pain relief and healing.”
Holden. That’s where I remember the scent from. “Holden gave it to you?”
“Yes. Apparently it grows abundantly near their village. Very thoughtful of them. If Elder Stasio ever has a moment, I’d love to learn more about how the Shaman use Blackroot. I’m sure there are uses that we Lycans haven’t thought of.”
“Speaking of Holden, how is he?”
“Holden sustained lacerations and puncture wounds along one side of his body, most likely from a Lycan bite.” Dr. Olcan steps out, wiping his face with a towel.
Still naked as hell. “Fortunately, his injuries weren’t nearly as bad as Haron’s.
Similar to the Commander’s stab wound, I was able to discharge him relatively quickly. ”
“That’s good to hear.” I clear my throat, trying to focus on anything besides his persistent nakedness.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I was hoping to discuss Jayme with you. His medical history, I mean.”
“Jayme?” He pauses, then realization dawns on his face. “For the Commander’s investigation?”
God, why haven’t you put clothes on yet? I keep my eyes fixed on his face.
“Yeah, we’re still trying to figure out what’s going on.” I can’t hold it in any longer. “Hey, Doc, do you mind putting on some pants or another robe? I’m still not used to this whole nudity thing and it’s really distracting me.”
Dr. Olcan chuckles. “You humans are a curious sort. If it will make you comfortable.” With that, he disappears behind the screen again. “So, what questions about Jayme could you have for me, Truth Seer?”
I wince a little. Even the doc is calling me that now? Truth Seer seemed like a fun nickname at first. Now, it’s begun to sound more like a formal title — one that I’m not sure I can live up to.
“Well, health-related ones,” I respond. “What do you know about him? Any conditions, or anything unusual?”
There’s another pause followed by the ruffling of clothing. The doctor walks back out in new robes, blood-stain free. “From what I recall of his last visit, Jayme presented as a perfectly healthy Lycan.”
“Perfectly healthy, huh?”
Dr. Olcan slides open a massive drawer beneath his desk, revealing rows of organized files. His fingers move through several folders before he pulls one out and flips through its contents. “Yes, there’s not very much to tell at all.”
“So. . .he doesn’t have any known medical conditions? Not even high blood pressure or diabetes?” I pause. “What about psychiatric issues?”
Dr. Olcan shakes his head. “What is this about, Ethan? Do you believe he is ill?”
“I have no idea. But I’m trying to figure out if he’s being. . .controlled, somehow, by some outside force.”
Dr. Olcan raises an eyebrow. “Controlled? As in mentally?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s biologically unlikely.”
“The Commander said something similar, but how do you know?”
Dr. Olcan leans forward and fixes me with a clinical stare.
“You see, magic surrounds us here, always. It’s like a mist in the very air we breathe.
Some beings in Clarion — like fairies and the Shaman — are connected to this magic through their neural pathways.
” He takes a seat in his desk chair. “But, since most Lycans simply do not have that connection, we cannot be manipulated through mind magic.”
That’s what Rhiannon said too, but wait—
“Most Lycans?” I ask him. “You said most Lycans, so that means there are some that can be?”
“Well, theoretically speaking, a hybrid of a Lycan and a magical being, such as a Day Wolf, could connect to magic.” Leaning back in his chair, his elbows on the arm rests with his fingers steepled, Dr. Olcan continues, “Maybe a Scarlet Wolf, but their connection to magic is unproven. If anyone here is most likely to be influenced by mind magic, it would be Luna Thea, since she is part Shaman and has used magic before.”
I nod. “She told me about that. She’s a Day Wolf.”
“That’s right. But even Day Wolves can be born disconnected from magic.
Genetically, when you mix one creature with another, there’s no telling what gifts or curses they will inherit.
And, since hybrids are fairly rare in general, there isn’t very much written about the use of mind magic among them and the different Lycan iterations. ”
I frown a little. “Could Jayme be one of those Lycan iterations?”
He sorts through several more pages in his file, scanning the text as he continues.
“No, as far as I can tell, he appears to be solely Lycan. Nobody has hinted that he could be a hybrid, nor has he displayed any hybrid characteristics. Scarlet Wolves, for example, show very particular identifying traits. If Jayme was a Scarlet Wolf, you would not have to ask.”
This information takes the wind out of my sails just a bit. “Could there be some kind of sickness that causes a Lycan to lose control of their wolf, maybe?”
“I’ve answered that already.” Dr. Olcan’s head tilts to one side and his expression softens, the corners of his mouth lifting in quiet reassurance. “You truly wish to help Jayme, don’t you?”
I shrug. “Yes, but I can’t say it’s purely out of the kindness of my own heart. Our lives are tied together at this point. If this summit falls apart, so do my chances of being spared from execution. Ultimately, though, if Jayme’s innocent, he shouldn’t suffer for something he can’t control.”
Dr. Olcan smirks in acknowledgement. “I see. Well, it’s possible for Lycans to lose control of their wolf, particularly when coming of age or during significant life changes.
However, I haven’t encountered cases where it occurs sporadically and comes with complete memory loss like this.
I’d need to do further research further to understand it better. ”
“If you can do that, it would really help us out.”
He gives a warm, fatherly smile. “Anything for our pack, Truth Seer.”
“Thanks, Doc. I truly appreciate it.”
As I leave the infirmary, my mood deflates. What a big strike that lead turned out to be. Rhiannon isn’t going to be pleased. I hope she got further with the seers than I did with Dr. Olcan.
I head toward the training grounds, hoping to catch Rhiannon and find out if she’s talked to the seers, as well as share what little I’ve learned. The sounds of sparring drift across the sunbaked grounds.
As I round the corner, I don’t see her anywhere. Instead, four younger guards are clustered near the weapon racks, their conversation dying the moment they spot me. I recognize them from training sessions. They’re lower-ranking members whose names I’ve never bothered to learn.
The tallest one, a guy with a scar running from his ear to his jaw, breaks from the group. His expression could freeze water.
“We need to talk, human.”
I slow my pace but don’t stop walking. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
The other three spread out slightly, not quite blocking my path but making it clear I’m not going anywhere soon. My pulse quickens a touch. Four against one isn’t great odds, even if I wasn’t the weakest person in at least a hundred-mile radius.
Scarface plants himself in front of me. “Heard the Commander took a blade meant for you today.”
“She did.” I keep my voice even. “I’m very grateful for it.”
“Grateful?” A shorter guard with a freckled face lets out a bitter laugh. “Your gratitude doesn’t make up for putting her in danger.”
“I didn’t put her anywhere. She chose to—”
“She has orders to protect someone who doesn’t deserve it.
” The third guard, a large woman with muscles that could probably crush my skull like a grape, closes the distance between us.
“The Commander has responsibilities for her pack, not some human who’ll be gone after the summit, if you even live that long. ”
The fourth guard — barely out of his teens by the look of him — scoffs. “They shouldn’t let you stay in Kortan, let alone train with us. Needing the Commander’s protection during a routine patrol just shows how useless you are to our pack.”
His words slam into me. Not because they’re cruel. They’re just the same thoughts that have been circling in my own head.
“Every minute she spends worrying about keeping you alive is a minute she’s not focused on protecting those that actually matter,” Scarface continues. “The ones who belong here.”
Everything in me wants to argue. I want to tell them that I’m the Truth Seer, that my skills will help solve the mystery that could save their precious summit, maybe even save them.
But I can’t, because underneath their anger, I hear what they’re really feeling: genuine concern for Rhiannon, their Commander.
These aren’t just bullies looking for a target. They’re pack members watching their leader risk herself for an insignificant outsider, and I can’t fault them for that.
“Look.” I hold up both hands. “I understand your concern, but—”
“Do you?” Freckles gets right in my face. “Could you ever understand what it means when one of our own gets hurt protecting someone who’ll never be part of this pack? Someone who couldn’t protect her back when she needs it?”
The muscular woman nods. “As if being passed over by our Alpha wasn’t enough. She’s already dealing with the Shaman accusing Jayme, and now she’s throwing herself in front of daggers for a powerless human who won’t even be here next week.”
“Just stay away from our Commander.” Scarface’s voice drops to a dangerous growl. “Whatever game you think you’re playing, it’s over. Go back to the Outer Lands before you get her killed.”
They don’t wait for a response. They file past me, two of them shoulder-checking as they go.
The crash of steel against steel and the snarling of wolves echoes out from the training grounds again. The sound might as well be coming from another realm, though. The young guards’ words loop through my mind like a broken record.
You’re useless. Powerless. You don’t belong.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Nothing I haven’t thought myself.
Honestly, what the fuck do I think I’m doing in a world where everyone else has fangs and claws and I have...what? A decent memory and a talent for asking annoying questions?
Go back to the Outer Lands before you get her killed.
The worst part of their little intervention is that I don’t think they’re wrong.