Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ALENA
The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy as the realisation sank in.
Kaixo slipped from under Nik’s arm, seized the discarded wooden sword, and began swinging again, as if he could fight off the dread tightening the air.
Nik’s brow creased. “We’d lose our Gifts?”
Phoebe pressed her fingers above her Gifted eye in a rare display of vulnerability. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s hard to say if they would remain, fade over time, or vanish at once.”
Alena’s thoughts churned. She tried to imagine a world without magic—no power coursing through her veins, no bond with the wolves, no more wielding her Gifts in battle. The Mother Goddess’ plan—her attempt to undo the consequences of Gifting her lover—would forever change their world.
Leukos stilled, his expression darkening as if some terrible realisation had just struck. “That’s why so many Omegas failed before. If the truth was known, every power-hungry ruler would have united to stop them. No one would give up magic willingly.”
Phoebe’s silver eye flicked to the shadowed edges of the courtyard, searching for eavesdroppers.
“The Maiden told me the descendants of the shepherd passed down their knowledge and influence. Most were cunning, guarded by wealth and armies, skilled in rallying those desperate to preserve magic at any cost. The Emperor will be no different. The closer you get to him, the more dangerous he will become. He’ll stop at nothing to protect his power. ”
Alena swallowed hard, her throat dry. Every new revelation made her task feel insurmountable. “The Maiden said the Emperor’s already trying to fashion himself into a god,” she murmured. “Building temples to expand his cult throughout the Empire.”
“Yes,” Phoebe confirmed, taking the reins of her horse once more, “and that’s why you must act fast. All of you.”
She adjusted the bow slung over her shoulders and secured her sword to the saddle.
Alena glanced at Leukos and Nik, the same grim understanding passing between them: the road ahead was carved in blood, and it would not spare them.
“We’ll leave as soon as possible,” Leukos said. “I’ll speak to Danaos. We need to return to the lake camp and join Volcos before the legions strike the Western Lands.”
Just then, Theo emerged from the palace, his posture rigid. He scanned the courtyard before settling on Leukos, who raised a hand in acknowledgement.
He turned to leave, then halted, his gaze lingering on Alena. They hadn’t had much chance to speak alone all day. Alena wanted to say something—anything—but the weight of their audience held her back.
¨Phoebe leaned against her horse, watching the exchange with a raised brow. “Well, I trust you’ll have this little mess sorted out by the time I’m back.”
Nik snickered, earning a sharp glare from Leukos. Clearing his throat, he muttered, “I’d better go warn Pelagios and help prepare if we’re to leave tomorrow.” With a ruffle of Kaixo’s hair and a nod to Phoebe, he strode towards the newly repaired palace gate.
“Be careful in the Western Lands,” Phoebe said to Alena. “The Omega means little to them. Don’t take any risks.” The gave her a pointed look, no doubt remembering Dodona. “I won’t be around to help you this time.”
“I remember your help all too well,” Leukos retorted, his tone icy, “and we’ll be just fine without it.”
“Leukos!” Alena’s admonition did nothing to soften his glare.
Unfazed, Phoebe’s smirk widened. “Funny, I remember my help keeping you alive. And yet, you never thanked me for it.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Leukos shot back, already striding away.
Phoebe chuckled, more amused than offended. “Your mother would have liked him.”
She gathered her horse’s reins and swung into the saddle with practised ease. In the shade, Apollo roused from his nap and stretched before padding over to join them. The horse shied at the sight of the wolf, but Phoebe’s firm hand steadied it.
Kaixo ran forward, reaching out to pat the horse’s shoulder, his small face scrunched in an effort to hold back tears. He froze when Phoebe’s stern gaze snapped to him, sucking in a shaky breath as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Goodbye, Phoebe,” he mumbled.
Phoebe clicked her tongue in mild disapproval. “This isn’t goodbye.”
“Well, it certainly feels like it,” Alena grumbled, unsettled by the ’s abrupt departure.
“Don’t be so dramatic. We’ll meet again.”
“When?”
A small smirk curled on Phoebe’s lips. “When the time is right.”
Alena rolled her eyes. Always so cryptic. She stepped back as the spurred her horse into motion. The animal’s hooves rang against the courtyard stones.
“If you ever need me,” Phoebe called over her shoulder, voice carrying as the distance between them grew, “Theo will know how to send me the owl.”
Kaixo waved after her, his small arm cutting the air, while Apollo bounded beside him. The two trailed behind the retreating horse as the guards moved to open the gate.
Alena stood rooted in place, hands clenched into fists at her sides. She told herself she shouldn’t care, that Phoebe would return, but the void in her chest said otherwise.
The sharp-edged hadn’t just been her companion—she’d been her confidante, the one who grounded her when the enormity of destiny threatened to sweep her away. Phoebe’s pragmatic guidance had been a tether to understanding her purpose, her magic, herself.
With her gone, Alena’s doubts returned in force. How could she possibly face the battles ahead without the ?
Her throat tightened, resolve faltering.
You’re not alone, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. She still had Leukos, Nik, Kaixo, Theo, and the other rebels.
Yet as the gates creaked shut behind Phoebe’s retreating figure, leaving a forlorn Kaixo standing before them, the sinking feeling in Alena’s chest deepened.
Stars be cursed, she hated goodbyes.
Two days later, they were settled back at the rebel camp near the Empire’s border, north of the Eluvite Mountains.
The camp by the lake had swelled in size, soldiers and supplies flowing in steadily from Tiryns thanks to Danaos and Despoina’s Gift.
Everywhere Alena looked, men and women pitched tents, tended horses, sharpened weapons, or trained under Despoina’s watchful eye.
Sweaty from her own training, she passed by the main tent.
“Everything all right, Red?”
Alena halted at the familiar voice. Nik reclined by the fire pit, his long legs stretched out, his usual smirk in place.
The earthy aroma of pork stew wafted through the mild spring air, making her stomach twist with hunger. “It smells good.”
“Then join me,” he said, gesturing to a tree stump beside him. “There’s enough food for two.”
Though her muscles ached after training, she joined him, too hungry to resist.
Nik grabbed a ladle, filled two bowls from the iron pot suspended over the flames, and handed one to her with a flourish. “Pork, lentils, carrots, onions, and dandelions.”
Her eyebrows rose at the last ingredient.
“It’s a Western recipe,” he added with a shrug, blowing on his own steaming bowl. “Actually… San taught it to me when we were travelling.”
She paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. Bittersweet memories of her friend’s cooking surfaced unbidden. She managed a small smile and finally took a bite. The richness of the flavours surprised her. “San was a great cook.”
“The best,” Nik agreed, digging into his bowl.
Alena was famished, too, her body still humming from the morning drills in the forest. Since arriving at the rebel camp, her routine had been relentless: each day began with the exercises Phoebe had taught her, followed by gruelling attempts to master her Gifts—summoning the Cyprian’s armour while wielding the South Wind’s magic at the same time.
Her gaze drifted beyond Nik to the sprawling crescent of tents lining the lake shore. Kaixo stood by the water with Pelagios and a couple of other rebels, learning to skip stones across the surface.
Since Phoebe’s departure, he’d withdrawn further into himself, spending long hours outside, often with the wolves.
Alena often caught glimpses of him lurking among the ferns while she trained, awe and longing written across his face as he watched from the shadows. Yet he never sought her out to train with a sword—only Leukos or Nik.
At night, however, he still curled close, clutching the little wooden figurine of Ama—the one Leukos had carved for him—like a lifeline. His grief showed in bursts of anger, but beneath it all Alena sensed his need for connection, for someone to lean on.
She understood all too well. Though the grief wasn’t as sharp as it had been in the days after San’s death, it still caught her unawares.
Sometimes it struck in quiet moments—like the night she stumbled upon the patched cloak San had stitched for her during their travels with Phoebe.
The sight of it had undone her; she’d wept like a child, crushed beneath the weight of guilt.
Kaixo’s wounds mirrored her own. She wasn’t his mother, but he was hers to protect now. And no matter what, they would always be a family.
“He’ll come around,” Nik said, following her gaze. “He might not say it, but he needs you.”
Alena took another spoonful, letting San’s recipe settle over her like a distant embrace. “And I need him.”
Nik offered her a knowing smile before returning to his meal. Behind him, the main tent—usually buzzing with the rebel leadership’s strategy meetings—was empty.
“Where is everyone?” Alena asked.
“Leukos is off training,” Nik replied through a mouthful of food.
Alena’s heart sank. Once again Leukos had isolated himself. When she’d suggested they test his control together, he’d refused. He was slipping further away, and no matter how hard she reached for him, her fingers kept closing around empty air.
“And the others?”