Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ALENA
Alena’s breath hitched. She dropped to her knees before him, heart hammering as her fingers fumbled with the leather straps of his armour. “Leukos, I’m here,” she whispered. “It’s me.”
“Careful,” Nik warned, his voice taut.
Beneath the armour, ice-blue swirls bled across Leukos’ skin, curling like veins of frost over his shoulders and upper arms. Cold radiated from him, unnatural and biting. Alena’s breath misted between them, and the leather under her fingers stiffened with a thin glaze of frost.
“Leukos!” Theo exclaimed, falling to his knees beside her, his face pale with alarm.
“What’s wrong with him?” Alena asked, panic creeping in.
Theo’s eyes tracked the spiralling frost marks spreading over Leukos’ skin. “He’s burned through too much magic—he’s losing control. The North Wind’s Gift is taking over. His body can’t hold it.” His voice dropped, heavy with dread. “If we don’t stop this… it’ll kill him.”
Alena’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Nik—find a healer!” she shouted, desperation cracking her voice. “Anyone who can help!”
Nik was gone in an instant. The magic crawled further down Leukos’ arms, the air around him turning glacial, every breath biting at her lungs.
“Theo, what do we do?” she demanded, her hands hovering uselessly over his armour. Every instinct screamed at her to hold him, but the cold radiating from him was sharp enough to burn.
Theo planted a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her trembling frame. “Touch his Mark. You’re the Omega—only you can reach him. Trust me.”
“But—” She searched Leukos’ eyes for any sign of the man she knew, but the glowing ice-blue magic had swallowed them whole. He was distant. Unreachable.
What if his touch froze her again? What if it killed her—or stripped away his Gift forever?
“Do it!” Theo barked, urgency snapping her back. “Now!”
With a shuddering breath, she slid her trembling hands over Leukos’ shoulders.
The instant her fingers grazed his Mark, a surge of ice-cold magic tore through her—sharp, merciless.
It raged like a blizzard through her veins, freezing her from the inside out.
She gasped, her body convulsing under the force, until the world dissolved into white.
When her vision cleared, the cold was gone. In its place lay a strange, suffocating stillness.
Alena was no longer outside, kneeling beside Leukos, but standing in a deserted hallway, its grandeur familiar yet eerie. It could have been Tiryns’ palace, yet everything felt… wrong, as if memory itself had been twisted.
Polished marble walls reflected the wavering light of torches, their long shadows shifting as if alive.
The floor beneath her was an intricate mosaic of white, blue, and gold, depicting waves shattering against jagged cliffs.
Above, in a looming alcove, a massive statue of the Sea God stared down—indifferent, eternal.
A guard in Megarian blue approached, the clink of his armour echoing softly. Relief surged through her. “Excuse me!” she called, stepping forward—
—but he passed straight through her outstretched hand.
Her pulse stuttered, arm still suspended in empty space.
By the Moon… What was going on?
Movement flickered at the edge of her vision. A boy darted past, quick as a shadow.
“Wait!” Alena shouted, bolting after him. The slap of her sandals rang loud on the marble as she chased him down echoing corridors devoid of life.
Where was everyone?
The boy vanished through a door left ajar. She hurried forward—but before she could push inside, magic surged against her senses.
A soft rustle—like feathers sliding across stone—brushed the air. Shadows deepened, swallowing the torchlight.
Alena spun on her heel, cold creeping through her veins. “Show yourself.”
From the darkness, a figure emerged. A man—no, a deity—stepped into the dim light with ethereal grace.
A frost-dusted beard framed a face of marble-cut beauty, his eyes a piercing, unnatural blue that locked onto her and didn’t let go.
Purple feathers arched over his broad shoulders, wings folded tight behind him, their iridescence catching faint glimmers of torchlight.
A simple purple chiton hung open at the chest, revealing skin polished and cold as carved stone.
“You must be the Omega,” the man said, his voice smooth as silk. His lips curled into a cruel smile that flooded her with dread.
“The North Wind,” she greeted, refusing to drop her gaze.
“Correct.” The word rolled from his tongue with smug satisfaction.
“Where am I?” she asked, forcing calm. “And what have you done to Leukos?”
He tilted his head, wings shifting with a dry whisper of feathers. “I didn’t bring you here. He did. As for what I’ve done to him… well, he invited that himself.”
Alena clenched her fists. “He didn’t invite losing control.”
A low, mocking chuckle escaped him. “I suppose not. But then again, he has you to help him. He’s just too scared to accept the truth.”
Before she could press him, a scream tore through the silence, sharp and metallic as a blade.
Her head snapped towards the sound. “What was that?” The marble walls seemed to close in, pressing the air from her lungs.
The North Wind stepped closer, his presence expanding like a shadow spilling over her.
His smile remained, but there was no warmth in it—only malice.
“Do you know what drives your little prince? What carved him into someone who must be the strongest, no matter the cost? What keeps him from ever failing again?”
Alena’s blood ran cold as the pieces clicked into place. “The Megarian massacre.”
The truth lodged in her throat. She was standing in Megara’s royal palace, moments before the Rasennan assassins struck. “No. Why would you show him this?”
The North Wind’s smile twisted. “Years ago, he begged to see the massacre, to see his mother’s final moments. I granted that wish. And since then? He’s returned here on his own. Again and again. I don’t even have to bring him.” His hand lifted in a lazy flick. “Now you get to watch, too.”
Alena’s heart clenched. The thought of Leukos being trapped in this nightmare over and over made her breath catch.
“Then why are you here?” she asked.
For the first time, the North Wind hesitated.
A flicker—something like vulnerability—passed across his face before it was gone.
His wings shifted, purple feathers sweeping the dark marble floor.
“Because,” he said at last, his voice carrying unexpected weight, “the little prince isn’t the only one bound to that day. I come to see her.”
Realisation dawned, and her heart sank. “The queen,” she murmured. Leukos’ mother—a devoted worshipper of the North Wind.
A distant clash of steel shattered the stillness. Screams and shouts swelled, echoing off the palace walls. The massacre had begun, and she knew what came next—the final, desperate cries of those who would not survive the night.
She reached for the door, her hand trembling, but before she could push it open, the North Wind’s voice came again, lower—almost human.
“Tell him to keep honing his control. He may be the most talented warrior I’ve ever Gifted, but he is still mortal. He will break, like all mortals do, if he lets this consume him.”
His words lingered. Leukos had spent years burying the pain of this night beneath layers of strength and discipline.
“He’s stronger than you think,” Alena said, her voice quiet but firm. “He won’t break.”
She half-expected a scoff or cutting remark, but when she turned, the North Wind was gone. The corridor stood empty, his presence evaporating like a cold breath on the wind.
Alena pushed the door open—and her heart stilled.
The queen sat at a table scattered with pots and vials, her beauty pale and luminous, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders—the same shade as Leukos’. A silver dagger gleamed in her hand, catching the torchlight as she waited, composed and resigned to her fate.
A few paces away stood a young Leukos, barely more than a boy, his small frame hunched and shaking. His wide eyes were locked on his mother, already haunted with dread.
The screams of the dying rose through the palace. But young Leukos stood silent, as if he’d already lived this horror too many times to react.
Alena stepped closer, blinking back the tears burning her eyes.
“I’m not really here,” young Leukos said at her side. His gaze never left his mother, his voice hollow. “I didn’t arrive until morning. With Pelagios and Theo…” His whisper frayed. “But Mother…”
Alena looked back at the queen, her chest tightening. “She knew it was coming, didn’t she?”
Young Leukos nodded. “She was ready.” His voice cracked. “And I wasn’t there.”
The weight of his guilt rolled over her like a wave. She had always seen Leukos’ strength, his unshakeable resolve, but beneath it all was this moment, this wound that had never healed.
She took his cold hand in hers. “You were just a boy, Leukos. You couldn’t have stopped this.”
His jaw tensed, grief flashing raw in his eyes. “I should’ve been there. I could’ve done something. Father said it was my duty to protect Mother—and everyone I love.”
“If you’d stayed,” she said gently, “you wouldn’t have saved her—you would’ve been lost, too.”
Footsteps thundered in the hall. Alena’s heart clenched as soldiers burst into the room. Leukos whimpered, frozen where he stood.
“Don’t look.” She pulled him into her arms, wrapping herself around his small frame as the men advanced on his mother.
She squeezed her eyes shut, holding him tight. She wished she could shield him from this, but she couldn’t. This was his memory—one he’d been trapped in for years.
A muffled scream cut through the room. Alena’s heart broke—for the terrified boy clinging to her, and for the man who still bore the scars of that night.