Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ALENA
“Go, go!” Alena shouted, shoving a soldier back while Phoebe slammed another to the ground with her shield before driving her sword into his chest.
Despoina’s gaze flicked towards the remaining Achaeans, hesitation flashing across her face. Then she dropped to her knees, pressing both palms to the ground. Emerald light spilled outwards, wrapping two tents in a glowing cocoon.
Theo’s hunch had been right—the prisoners were on the far east side of the camp, nowhere near the gate.
The wolves Alena had brought had followed the villagers’ fear-scent straight to the tents where women and children were chained, exhausted, and trembling.
Huddled together inside, the women murmured reassurances to the whimpering little ones.
The sound of those cries had pierced Alena’s heart, but they’d had to wait in the shadows until Leukos’ distraction drew the guards away. It had worked—shouts, horns, and clashing steel had pulled Rasennan soldiers towards the gate in droves, leaving the prisoners unguarded.
But there were too many to take in one trip. The twins couldn’t ferry them all back through their magic. Despoina and Danaos vanished in a flare of green light with the first group, tents and all, leaving Alena, Phoebe, the wolves, and a handful of Tirynthian soldiers behind.
The sudden disappearance of the tents drew every nearby soldier straight to them. Within moments, the small band was surrounded.
Alena’s pulse hammered in her ears. She’d stationed the wolves at the forest’s edge, ready to pounce on any flank attack, and still their numbers were thinning with every clash.
Sweat stung her eyes. Her sword met an enemy’s with a jolt that rattled her arms. He was huge, every strike a thunderous blow meant to crush her guard. Her muscles burned, but she refused to give ground.
She had the South Wind.
Snapping her wrist, she unleashed a scorching gust. The blast hit the soldier full in the face, ripping the breath from his lungs and sending him stumbling into a comrade. Both hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Alena swept her gaze over the battlefield, chest heaving. Phoebe fought ahead, her round shield smashing into an enemy’s with a bone-jarring clang, each strike forcing them back. They couldn’t hold for long.
Her eyes turned to the tree line—a jagged wall of black-green pines, their shadows spilling forward. The forest loomed, its stillness unnatural, the silence between the trees heavy enough to smother sound.
Desperation drove her to reach into it with the Huntress’ Gift, silver tendrils of magic unfurling in search of wolves.
But instead of the familiar bonds, the tendrils wrenched tight—iron chains of magic coiling around her.
“Alena!” Phoebe’s voice cut through the chaos behind her.
“Phoebe—”
The force wrenched her off balance, dragging her towards the trees. Her boots carved long furrows through the pine needles. She clawed at trunks, grasped at low branches, but they tore from her grip. The forest swallowed her whole.
The South Wind’s Gift was gone. No whisper of magic answered her call—only the relentless pull, drawing her faster, deeper, until the battlefield vanished behind the shadows of the ancient pines.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She followed the silver tendrils that should’ve led her to the wolves—and froze.
Massive shapes prowled at the other end, hulking frames bristling, hackles raised, lips peeled back to bare rows of jagged, glistening teeth.
These were not wolves.
Her body jerked to a halt midair, suspended as if on invisible strings. No matter how hard she struggled, she was trapped, something ancient and unseen coiling tighter.
Panic clawed its way up her throat.
From the oppressive stillness, young voices echoed between the trees—soft, singsong, unsettling. “A maiden, a maiden, calling for aid. We hear you, we see you, but there’s a price to be paid.”
Alena’s breath caught. “What price?”
The clash of steel and shouts swelled behind her.
She risked a glance over her shoulder—her Gifted eyes picking out flashes of red tunics and glinting steel.
Rasennan soldiers were closing in fast. She was a sitting target, pinned like prey in a hunter’s snare.
She yanked at the invisible bonds, but it was useless.
“Oh, maiden, oh maiden, the price is your soul. To the forest, to the Huntress, you’ll give yourself whole.”
The words slid through the air, winding around her with the same cold magic that held her fast.
“Join us, maiden,” they whispered in eerie unison, the sound weaving through the forest, echoing the rustle of fallen leaves. “Leave your heart behind. The Huntress will find you, the Huntress will keep you, as hers for all time.”
Alena’s pulse hammered, fear clawing at her ribs, yet her voice held steady. “I can’t stay. I’m the Omega. The Huntress has already Gifted me.”
The forest stilled. Only the faint clash of battle far behind broke through.
Alena held her breath.
After what felt like an eternity, the invisible bonds snapped, and she dropped hard to the forest floor. Pain jolted up her spine. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself upright and whirled, ready for the Rasennan soldiers to burst through the trees.
Instead, she froze.
A little girl stood before her, no older than Kaixo. She wore a soft white chiton, its purity marred by dirt streaks across her face. Twigs tangled in her wild, dark hair, and her wide brown eyes gleamed with a depth and wisdom far beyond her years.
“Will you be our sister?” the girl asked, her voice soft and melodic. “The Huntress told us how you saved her. We wanted to meet you. Will you play with us?”
Her tiny hand slipped into Alena’s, warm and gentle. Who was she? Where had she come from? Alena didn’t know—but despite the pressing danger, a strange calm bloomed inside her.
The pounding footsteps of soldiers drew nearer, but for a brief moment, Alena knelt, brushing a stray curl from the girl’s cheek. “I’d love to play,” she whispered, heart twisting, “but I have to save my friends. Bad men are coming for us.”
“That’s all right,” the girl said with a sweet smile. “We can watch you play with the hounds instead.”
Alena stilled. She meant the ravenous beasts.
“The Huntress said she’d lend them to you for one day and one night,” the girl babbled, as if speaking of pets rather than deadly creatures.
“It won’t be too hard. They’re always hungry, of course, but they’ll eat just about anything.
And they love sleeping under the stars. Oh!
And they really like belly rubs, but be careful—if you give one too much attention, the others get jealous—”
Alena’s gaze snapped to a sudden flicker of movement in the bushes.
“Watch out!” she yelled, instincts flaring.
An arrow shot from the trees, hurtling straight towards them. Without hesitation, Alena lunged forward, shoving the little girl to the ground and shielding her with her body. The sharp thud of the arrow embedding in the dirt beside them sent her heart racing.
Rolling to the side, Alena drew a dagger from her belt and cursed under her breath—she’d lost her sword when she was dragged into the forest. The wolves were too busy guarding Phoebe and the Achaeans to come to her aid, and her attempts to summon the South Wind’s magic faltered.
The little girl had vanished without a trace, leaving Alena alone against the approaching threat. But she wasn’t defenceless—she still had her training with Phoebe.
From the shadows, a dozen Rasennan soldiers stepped forward, bows drawn, eyes sharp and fixed on her. A tight knot twisted in her stomach as she took in their numbers. She crouched on one knee, her dagger glinting in the mottled light, ready to strike.
“We’ve been looking for you,” growled one soldier in Rhaetic, broad-shouldered and thick-necked like Pelagios.
Another, with short-cropped hair, kept an arrow nocked, his gaze cold and calculating. “The girl with the Omega Mark.”
Alena clenched her jaw. “The woman,” she corrected. “And I’m right here. No need to shoot the little girl.”
“That wasn’t a girl,” muttered a third soldier, unease flickering in his eyes. “That was a nymph. We shouldn’t be here.”
Of course—a nymph. Danaos had warned that the forest belonged to Kallisto, one of the Huntress’ nymphs. The little girl must have been one of them.
Silver threads of magic, now linking her to the hunting hounds, tugged sharply.
Her heart stilled.
Though unseen, the beasts had closed around her. Rough fur brushed against her arm, sending her hair prickling to life.
“Shut it,” the first soldier snapped, eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadowed pines. “Keep your guard up. We grab her fast.”
But before the soldiers could move, the air around Alena shimmered, revealing sleek black coats, gleaming silver eyes, and rows of sharp teeth.
The pack of hounds—enormous beasts nearly twice the size of the Freefolk ones—closed in around her, forming a tight circle.
Saliva dripped from the nearest beast onto her shoulder, sending a cold shiver racing down her spine.
The hounds snarled in unison, their low growls vibrating through the ground, eyes locked on the soldiers, daring them to advance.
Magic tugged at Alena again, sharper this time. More hounds lingered in the shadows, pressing in from the underbrush, shrouded but ready to strike.
Just how many did the Huntress command?
“Don’t move.” The thick-necked soldier locked eyes with the snarling pack, his stare hard, while the others shifted nervously. The man closest to Alena went pale, his hands trembling at the sight of the beasts baring their teeth.
The bushes stirred, and eerie giggles echoed from every direction, carried on the rustling leaves. Terror flickered in the soldiers’ eyes as they scanned the pines, where shadows seemed to watch and wait.
The nymphs’ sing-song voices floated through the branches, enchanting and mocking: