Chapter 12 #2
They rode on, leaving the sacred ground behind. The rolling grass gave way to rocky hills, and in the distance, a dull, rhythmic clacking carried on the wind—metal on stone, endless and grim.
“That’s as far as we go.” Phoebe veered towards a sparse stand of pine trees and dismounted, tying the horses to low branches. “We go on foot from here, under the cover of darkness. Leave a few wolves to guard the horses. We’ll need to move fast once we find San and Kaixo.”
Apollo emerged from the underbrush, circling her in greeting and startling her horse.
Alena dismounted and ran a hand down the wolf’s flank. “Go. Find a way inside the camp and report back.”
Apollo vanished into the trees, and Alena paced the edge of the grove, tension winding tighter with every step. Phoebe settled against a trunk, stretching her legs, her sword resting across her lap.
But Alena could feel her watching. Measuring.
“Alena.” Phoebe’s tone was steel. Alena didn’t stop walking. She already knew what was coming.
“We don’t know what we’ll find in there,” the continued.
“I know.”
“One of them could be dead.”
Alena’s breath hitched. Her pace faltered.
Phoebe’s tone didn’t soften. “They could both be dead.”
She turned sharply. “I know!” The words cracked under the weight of her fear.
“I know… but I still have to try.” She took a shuddering breath, one hand pressing to her chest like she could hold herself together.
“Leukos warned me. He warned me it would be dangerous for them, and yet, I brought them this far with me. I can’t abandon them. I can’t—”
She broke off, breath hitching. She had failed Katell. Leukos was gone. If she lost San and Kaixo, too…
She wasn’t sure she’d survive it.
Behind her, Phoebe’s voice stayed even. “Then we use the wolves to distract the soldiers while we split up and search. We won’t have much time, and if it comes down to it…”
Alena met her gaze, heart pounding.
“If the situation turns dire and I have to choose,” Phoebe continued, “I will save you. Do you hear me? You are the priority.”
The words landed like a stone in Alena’s stomach. Of course. Phoebe had sworn an oath to the Maiden—to protect the Omega—and she would uphold it, even if it meant leaving the others behind.
Alena didn’t answer. The thought hollowed her chest. She turned away, restless, her mind racing. Needing something to steady her trembling hands, she grabbed her satchel and checked its contents. Her fingers brushed the bundles of herbs she’d packed with care.
San. Kaixo.
They were alive. They had to be.
With a slow breath, she sank down beside Phoebe and closed her eyes, her hands tightening around the satchel’s weight.
The wind whispered through the trees.
Night couldn’t come soon enough.
Apollo had found several breaches in the quarry’s barricade—cracks the guards had neglected to patch. Phoebe chose the narrowest, tucked in shadow and close to the slave barracks, far from watchtowers and guard quarters.
Inside, a cluster of rough wooden buildings stood in rigid rows.
Down the main dusty path, torchlight guttered in the wind, casting erratic shadows over the gaping black maw of the quarry.
The steady clink of chisels and the dull, rhythmic thud of mallets carried up from the depths.
They were still working through the night.
Alena reached inwards, feeling the taut threads of magic in her chest, each one tethered to a wolf waiting in the forest beyond.
She’d never commanded so many at once. Leading them to Dodona was one thing, but coordinating a multi-point assault would drain her fast. She didn’t know how long she could hold them.
Only Apollo roamed free now, slipping through the barracks’ shadows, nose low, hunting San and Kaixo’s scent.
She and Phoebe had agreed: scout first, map the layout, track the guards—then unleash the wolves.
They crept towards the nearest building, a squat, weathered structure with narrow windows and a sagging roof. The wooden door hung crooked on its hinges, creaking as the wind prodded it. Warm, flickering light seeped through the cracks.
Without warning, the door swung wide, spilling light into the yard. Phoebe yanked Alena into the shadows as a guard stepped out, fastening his belt and adjusting the sword at his hip. He didn’t glance around, just muttered to himself and wandered down the path.
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening.
The wind shifted.
Alena froze as the air brought muffled groans, the rhythmic creak of straw-stuffed beds… and a woman’s stifled sob.
Her stomach turned to ice.
“A pleasure house for the guards,” Phoebe whispered.
Alena’s breath hitched. Rage and nausea surged in the same breath. She stepped forward, ready to tear the door from its hinges, but Phoebe caught her arm, her grip unyielding.
“No.”
“Phoebe—!”
“Remember what you came for,” Phoebe hissed. “San and Kaixo. Them and no one else. Or none of us make it. Choose now.”
The words landed like shackles. Another cry slipped through the wall, and Alena’s fists trembled. Every instinct screamed at her to do something—anything—but Phoebe was right.
Her whisper came out raw. “San and Kaixo.”
It felt like betrayal, but she turned away.
Phoebe gave a single grim nod, tugging her towards the next row of barracks. “Has the wolf found anything?”
Alena shook her head. Her throat was too tight for words.
“Then let’s slip into the closest barrack and—”
They rounded the corner—and slammed into someone.
Alena’s heart stuttered.
The figure gasped, but Phoebe was faster, shoving the woman against the wall with a thud, one hand over her mouth, the other reaching for her blade. The oil lamp tipped sideways, spilling gold light across bronze skin, a grimy tunic, and wide, dark eyes glazed with fear.
Alena’s senses swept the shadows. No one else. Just them.
Phoebe hissed something sharp in Rhaetic. The woman blinked in confusion. Then, in Koine: “Don’t make a sound.”
The woman nodded. Phoebe eased her hand away, but kept her grip firm.
She sucked in air like she’d been holding her breath for hours, chest heaving, gaze caught for a moment on the strange shimmer of Phoebe’s eye, then she turned to Alena.
Her stare caught. Held. Froze.
“… Alena?”
Alena tensed, blood draining from her face. The noise of the quarry dulled to a distant thrum. Her vision tunnelled until there was only the woman’s face in the lamplight.
Bruises stood out in stark relief, scrapes along her chin, a healing split lip, a thin, pale scar carved across her left cheekbone. Her eyes, once so bright with laughter and mischief, were sunken now, shadowed by a bone-deep exhaustion.
Recognition hit Alena like a wave, stealing her breath.
“By the Moon…” she breathed. “Leywani?”