Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
LEUKOS
Leukos leaned over the edge of the table, studying the maps spread across the warped wood—terrain lines, enemy paths, fallback positions.
The barn stank of wet hay and manure, sunlight filtering through the uneven weave of the thatched roof in soft, golden strands.
It was far from ideal for a war council, but the sheer number of warriors present made it the only space large enough.
The place was packed, shoulder to shoulder. Word of the Makhai had spread like wildfire—thanks, no doubt, to Alcaros—and over a dozen new warriors had arrived from the hillfort, their faces drawn tight with unease.
Leukos didn’t blame them.
According to Theo, the Makhai were creatures of nightmare that had torn through the battlefield at Kendrisia and crushed the Rebel Queen’s forces like twigs.
The legions hadn’t even arrived, and already the scent of defeat lingered in every whispered question and furrowed brow. How were they supposed to fight demons?
Danaos and Despoina flanked him, while Volcos and Alcaros stood opposite.
Western warriors closed ranks around them, boots caked in mud, faces taut with wariness.
Among the newcomers were some familiar faces from the previous summer—the Rebel Queen’s companions: a slender blonde woman, fierce as an , and a man with scars crisscrossing his bare arms. Vix and Tanco, if he remembered correctly.
Theo kept vigilant at Leukos’ left, ever watchful, while Nik—who’d joined that morning with Kaixo in tow—lingered on the right, quiet and unreadable.
Theo had pulled him aside the moment he entered, sharing with him everything they’d learned about Katell: the black pool, its effects, the Makhai…
And then there was Alena.
She stood further down the table, framed by Apollo and Otxoa like something out of legend.
But it wasn’t the wolves that made her unforgettable.
It was her.
Her shimmering green eyes, a constant reminder of the Huntress’ magic flowing through her.
Her mother’s golden torc, gleaming at her throat as if it had always belonged there.
Her auburn hair, catching the sun like molten copper.
And the Omega Mark on her hand, glinting in the golden light—subtle, but impossible to miss.
She was the smallest person in the barn, and yet she radiated more presence than any of them. She said nothing, yet every warrior’s attention fixed on her.
Leukos couldn’t stop watching her.
She didn’t even realise what she had become. The scared girl who’d once relied on him for protection now stood with the poise and authority of a queen.
He turned back to the map, the faintest of smiles tugging at his mouth.
Let the rest of them catch up. He already knew exactly who she was.
Clearing his throat, he tossed a scroll onto the table. “According to this scroll, we’ll be facing four legions,” he announced. “And they’ll be here in ten days at the earliest, right after the full moon.”
A ripple of unease passed through the gathered warriors.
“Will we be ready by then?” asked Tanco, the scarred warrior Leukos remembered from the previous summer.
“We won’t have a choice,” Theo replied flatly.
The blonde beside him, Vix, drummed a quiet rhythm with her finger on the table, brow furrowed in thought. “How many men is that?”
“Roughly twenty thousand against our twelve,” Volcos answered, his jaw tight, eyes pinned to the map.
Nik gave a dry smile. “Don’t forget the Achaeans.”
Volcos grunted. “Right. Twelve thousand five hundred.”
That drew a few strained chuckles, though it did nothing to ease the tension.
Leukos didn’t join in. Numbers mattered little when you added Gifted—and demons—to the mix.
Volcos hunched over the map, his thick finger tapping the stretch that traced the Rodanos. “We’ll hold them along the riverbank. Not that they should get that far—the gods won’t let them cross.”
Theo shifted closer, advancing the wooden piece that marked the Sixth Legion. “They’ll send the Makhai to break the line. Katell is the key to their victory. She’ll lead the charge. With demons at her command, make no mistake, they’ll find a way to cross.”
A hush fell over the barn, heavy as the storm clouds gathering beyond the thatched roof.
“The White Mare told me to use the standing stones,” Alena said, clearing her throat. The flicker of uncertainty on her face vanished in an instant, replaced by the calm resolve Leukos had come to admire. “If we draw Katell there, she won’t be able to access her magic.”
Nik’s lips curled into a grin. “No magic, no Makhai.”
Across the table, Tanco spoke up. “And then what? You kill your sister?”
Alena didn’t flinch. She shook her head, slow and certain. “No. We incapacitate her. Break whatever enchantment’s holding her. I know she’s still in there.”
Vix shook her head. “That’s a gamble. We don’t know if it’ll work.”
Before anyone else could respond, Alcaros spoke, his tone calm but resolute. “We have to trust the goddess. If she mentioned the stones, then that’s our best chance.”
Volcos considered his words. “Then we plan for it,” he said. “Alena’s mission is to draw Katell to the standing stones. The rest of us will hold the river.”
Alena dipped her chin in a curt nod, standing tall beneath the weight of the Westerners’ collective gaze.
A swell of admiration rose in Leukos’ chest—not just because she was his soulmate, but because of who she was now.
Brave. Fierce. Unshakeable.
Everything she was meant to be.
“I’ll be with her,” he said, locking eyes with her down the table.
A faint blush touched her cheeks, and she bit her lip, caught off guard.
And gods, the sight nearly undid him.
For a heartbeat, nothing else existed but the pull of her—the temptation to draw her close and capture that fleeting smile with his lips.
“Good,” Volcos said, snapping him back to the moment like a splash of cold water.
“And the rest of us?” Tanco asked, arms folded.
Above, sunlight broke through the scattered clouds, spilling across the table once more.
Volcos swept a glance around the crowded barn. “Once the Makhai are dealt with, we remind the Rasennan dogs what it costs to cross the tribes.”
A roar of approval rose like thunder, fists pounding the table, boots stomping the floor. The plan was a gamble; the enemy marched with legions and demons at their back.
But for the first time, Leukos felt something sharper than dread stirring in the air.
Hope.
“You look just like him,” Lecne said, his voice hoarse from days of hunger and exhaustion.
Theo and Nik, sitting at the table, glanced at Leukos, who didn’t respond.
He stood by the window of the cramped hut, arms crossed, his attention fixed on the gaunt Tarquinian guard slouched over a bowl of soup.
Steam curled up as Lecne shovelled another spoonful into his mouth, then tore off a chunk of bread in haste.
His bruises were starting to fade, but the damage went deeper—days of starvation and sleepless nights had hollowed him out.
Still, he’d agreed to answer questions about Velthur—the man Lecne had served under, the man Leukos knew as Galen.
His brother.
Gone for over ten years. Taken to Kisra as a hostage. Leukos had pictured him dead more times than he could count—starved, broken, executed, forgotten. He’d imagined his brother lost in a dozen different ways.
What he’d never imagined was this.
Galen, alive and thriving in enemy territory. Galen, captain of the Tarquinian Guard. Galen, kneeling at the feet of Emperor Caius Tarquinius—the very man responsible for Megara’s fall.
It made no sense.
His brother… the gentle one. The one who used to pull Leukos aside to calm his angry outbursts, who soothed his pain and spoke of duty and honour as if they were sacred law in Megara.
Leukos’ jaw clenched.
There had to be an explanation. Magic. Lies. Mind games. Tarquinius was a master of manipulation—he’d corrupted stronger men with less effort.
No. Galen hadn’t betrayed them.
He couldn’t have.
Leukos squared his shoulders and fixed Lecne with a hard stare. “Start from the beginning.”
“The Sixth Legion recruited me,” Lecne began. “Dalmatius found me when I was fighting in a small Eluvite arena, trying to make some money. He trained me, and I fought with the Black Helmets for a few months before my commander recommended me to serve in the capital with the Tarquinian Guard.”
He paused, spoon hovering midair before dipping it back into the bowl. “Velthur was the one who requested me. I didn’t know until this morning that he was your brother.”
Leukos’ stomach twisted, but he said nothing.
Lecne continued, his head bowed. “He must’ve known about my mother.
She was a Westerner, loyal to the Rebel Queen.
I think he sought me out for that reason.
Within the first few weeks, he cornered me after training—asked what I knew of the Western Tribes.
In the weeks that followed, he baited me into talking about the Rebel Queen, the Battle of Kendrisia, questioning my opinions, my allegiance.
At first, I thought he was testing me, but gradually I began to see a pattern.
Still… the captain of the Tarquinian Guard, a rebel?
It didn’t make sense. Especially with the rumours… ”
He trailed off.
Leukos’ eyes narrowed. “What rumours?”
The guard’s gaze flicked up, wary. “That the Emperor and he… are lovers.”
A tense silence followed. Theo and Nik exchanged a glance. The distant hammering of steel and shouts of the village children playing outside were the only sounds for a long beat.
Leukos’ chest tightened. He’d always known his brother liked men, but did he have to get entangled with the Emperor of all men?
He stared at Lecne, speechless.
Theo cleared his throat, breaking the taut silence. “So… you didn’t know who he was?”