Chapter 44 The Volkins, the Nýmphá, and the Lies of a Puppet
THE VOLKINS, THE NYMPHá, AND THE LIES OF A PUPPET
“This pup will either save the world or scorch it to ash. And if he chooses wrong, no goddess, not even your love, will bring him back. Pray he never loses what tethers him.”
—Elder A?na, to Vládan and ánya when Theron was born
Theron
“Here!” Kael leaps into the air, and his tail wags as his paw splashes into the water to grasp a glowing stone.
This is too easy. The nymphí, who seemed ready to kill us mere hours ago, suddenly feel like less of a threat. So far, we’ve encountered seven teams, each boasting at least one item. It’s as if the trial’s true challenge has yet to reveal itself.
“That stone is ours,” a low voice growls from the shadows. Across the pond, a dark-furred vólkin, Or?on, emerges from the trees with his team. His eyes are fixed on Kael’s find.
Kael shakes off, the water from his soaked fur spraying in all directions as he climbs onto dry land. His paw remains tightly wrapped around the glowing stone, and his tail wags side to side. “The stone belongs to whoever holds it.”
Or?on steps forward, and I do the same. We meet at the edge of the water.
Does he truly believe we’ll hand over the stone without a fight?
Foolish. He bares his fangs, and his muscles ripple as he postures for dominance—a display that might cow a weaker creature, but not me.
I wasn’t chosen to lead the vólkins by chance.
I earned my place through strength, strategy, and sheer will.
I am the best, and that will not change.
“Move, Or?on,” I growl, flexing my claws.
The trial means nothing to him. Revenge is all he cares about.
He drags a paw through the dirt as his eyes lock on mine.
Then, with a burst of speed, he charges, closing the distance between us.
I meet him head-on where we collide with a deafening crash, the force of which splashes water into the air.
The pond ripples violently around us as we grapple, muscles straining, claws tearing.
Zephyr moves to approach us, but I fix him with a warning growl that freezes him in place. This is between me and Or?on. This is the moment to remind him—and every vólkin watching—who their leader is.
“Shall we sort this out?” Or?on’s grin is wide. The glow of his burgundy crystals reflects his bloodlust.
“Very well.”
My claws swipe upward, tearing into his face. The force of the blow sends him flying out of the pond. His body crashes into the earth with a thud that echoes through the forest. Water splashes around me as I stride forward, my focus locked on him. This isn’t over until he knows his place.
The scent of his blood fills my snout. It mingles with the dampness of forest air. Or?on is already on his paws, snarling through the blood pouring from the gashes across his face. Rage burns in his eyes as he charges.
He slams into me, and his weight crushes me into the ground.
The cold mud clings to my fur. His claws dig into my shoulders as he roars so loudly he shakes the trees near us.
With a savage snarl, he grips the back of my head and slams it into the jagged stone beneath me.
Pain explodes through my skull, the edges of my vision darken.
Not like this.
I twist, throw my weight to the side, and roll him over.
His claws scrape against my skin, but I’m stronger and faster.
My paw clamps over his snout, and I press down hard enough to feel the bones strain beneath the pressure.
His blood stains my fur. Its acrid scent replaces the sweetness of my mate’s that usually lingers there. The thought enrages me even more.
With my free paw, I strike. Aiming for his eye, my claws carve into his face. The soft pop of flesh and the wet sound of tearing are what I hear. Or?on’s howl of pain tears through the forest as his left eye spills from its socket and is left hanging by a thread of sinew.
“Yield!” I bark, my chest heaving, my voice raw with rage. I tighten my grip on his snout and force his head back.
But he doesn’t yield.
Or?on twists violently until he breaks free with a loud growl. Blood streams through his claws, where they clutch at his ruined eye, and soaks into the grass below.
I rise, tower over him as he stumbles to his paws, and then lunge, driving my shoulder into his chest and slamming him into the nearest tree. The bark splinters under his weight, shards of wood flying as his body crashes against it.
Before he can recover his balance, I lift him off the ground by his throat. His legs kick wildly, his claws scrape at my arm, and I press him harder into the broken bark. The scent of his blood saturates the air.
“This ends now.” My claws tighten around his mane, his gasps grow weaker. The forest is silent save for the ragged sound of his breath, until I tighten my grip even more and breathing becomes impossible.
He finally stops struggling, and his body goes limp in my grasp. When I drop him to the ground, he collapses in a heap. He lies still, his chest rising and falling weakly. Then, slowly, with his head bowed low, he raises his paw in submission.
I snarl, stepping back and turning away. Let the others see this. Let them remember. I am their leader, and no one will challenge me without consequence.
No one moves. All eyes remain fixed on Or?on. Aeson and Zephyr release his team members, their earlier intent to separate us now abandoned. There’s no need. They’ve seen enough.
“He lost his eye for his stupidity. Let this be a lesson to all.” Without sparing Or?on another glance, I stride into the pond. The water is cool against my fur as I scrub his blood from my claws and arms.
Kael moves to Or?on, reaching out to help him stand.
“Do not touch me!” Or?on’s voice is raw with rage and humiliation. He stumbles to his paws, weak and beaten, his remaining eye open wide.
I understand his anger. If I ever lost a fight, if someone ever forced me to yield, I wouldn’t be able to face my mate.
“Leave him be, Kael,” I say, stepping out of the water. The droplets scatter into the air as I shake them off.
If I don’t stop this sort of foolish behavior, others might get the wrong ideas. My ears twitch at the quiet rustling to my right, and I turn my snout toward the sound.
“Mighty leader.” A nymphá steps gracefully from behind a tree, her glowing form illuminating the forest like a shard of moonlight. Her bare feet leave no trace on the mossy ground. “Her Majesty summons you,” she says. “A man named Gregor is approaching.”
Gregor. Isn’t that the one my mate let be?
“How far?” I demand, closing the distance between us in a single stride. My shadow swallows her slender figure.
“Not far,” she answers, her face calm as she tilts her head to meet my eyes. “He is with other vólkins, being brought to her.”
My claws flex, itching to tear through him, to end the threat he represents once and for all. Loose ends are not good, and Gregor is a thread I’ve wanted severed since the moment I learned of him.
But Noel. If she knows he’s coming . . . I can’t act yet. Not until I understand why. I turn back to my team. “Continue without me. Finish this trial. I will deal with Gregor.”
They lift their paws to their hearts, and I waste no time. As my legs carry me through the forest, the trees blur around me, and the cool air slices against my fur.
How has Gregor found himself here again?
He is a weak, fragile male, a pitiful creature who aided in the attempt to destroy my mate. He isn’t worthy of her attention, let alone her mercy. Why did she hesitate? This human betrayed her, endangered her. Why let him draw another breath? Why take the risk?
As I approach the edge of the clearing, my eyes sweep over the familiar forms of my warriors.
Their massive bodies stand tall. Their glowing crystals cast faint light across the darkened forest. The moment they see me, they snap to attention, paws lifted to their hearts in salute.
Their discipline steadies my rage, if only slightly.
I scent piss and blood, and then I see him. Gregor.
He stumbles behind them, his body so broken and frail he can barely manage to stay standing. He looks even weaker than before, a husk. He should have died with the other male. I should have crushed him under my claws.
Striding into the clearing, I nod once to the vólkins, but my focus is locked entirely on Gregor. The tension in the air thickens as my shadow falls over him, and I speak with a calm, low voice. “How did you end up here again?”
Gregor’s lips tremble, his words stumbling over each other like broken shards of bark. The vólkins exchange glances. They didn’t know Gregor and I have met before.
Gregor collapses to his knees. “I was caught. Tortured,” he stammers, his voice weak and whiny. “I-I managed to escape. I didn’t know where to go. I was just wandering through the forest, and then . . . then they found me.”
His words are pathetic, hardly coherent. He looks like a male who has been through the worst. But something about this doesn’t sit right. The timing. The location. This feels too convenient. “Did they harm you?” I ask, turning my gaze to the vólkins. My tone is calm, but my claws flex.
ívar, the leader of the team, steps forward with a low growl. “We wanted to . . . but didn’t. This human said he knows Her Majesty.”
I flick my eyes back to Gregor, who remains kneeling in the dirt.
“How is it,” I say slowly, “that you happened to end up here?”
Gregor’s eyes widen, the fear spreading across his face. He’s shaking uncontrollably, his mouth opening and closing as he searches for words. But none come.
He’s hiding something.
I remain silent, and my warriors watch quietly as well.
Let’s see what your next move is, Gregor. It might be your last.
“I-I didn’t mean to end up here . . . I was just trying to survive.”
I step close enough to tower over his miserable body.
His eyes dart between me and the vólkins, desperately searching for a lifeline. He’ll find none.
“And yet, you did end up here, didn’t you?” My voice is low. “Convenient, don’t you think? Wandering through the forest until what?”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Gregor whispers, his voice cracking. “No one to trust.”
“You should have died, Gregor,” I snarl. “You should have died with the other human. Arnold.”
Gregor’s lips quiver, but he stays silent. It’s like he knows that no matter what he says, I won’t believe him. But why does Noel believe him? What does she see in him?
I glance at the warriors standing around us. They know as well as I do that this human should be dead. And yet, here he kneels, alive, trembling like prey at my paws. ívar catches my eye, a flicker of agreement passing between us.
“Why are you here, Gregor?” I lean down until my eyes are level with his. My breath is hot, my claws flexing at my sides. “What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything!” Gregor blurts out, his voice frantic, desperate. “I don’t know why I’m still alive, I swear. Noe— Her Majesty spared me . . . and I-I—”
“Get him up,” I growl. I need to get control over myself, need to calm the storm raging inside me. “We’ll take him to my mate.”
ívar nods, and two vólkins grab Gregor roughly by the arms to pull him to his feet. I turn away from the scene and toward the path that leads back to ávera.