Athena’s pov
He walked past and shut the door. The lock clicked into place.
He didn’t sit. Neither did I.
He spoke quietly, voice heavy. "I almost died once."
That froze .
"It was a long ti ago. Before you ever ca to the Obsidian Throne. Before I beca who I am now."
I stood still.
"My body was... failing," he said. "A curse. Old. Feral magic mixed with poison. No one knew how to stop it. The healers gave up. The pack elders said to prepare rites."
I couldn’t imagine that. Not him. Not Cassius — who had always seed so... unbreakable.
"I don’t rember much of the final night," he said. "Only that it was cold. My limbs stopped listening. I couldn’t breathe."
He turned slightly toward the fire and stared into it. "The King was the one who ca."
I blinked. "The King?"
Cassius nodded once. "He sat by my bed. Didn’t say anything at first. Just watched you in pain. Then he asked if I wanted to live."
My throat felt tight.
"I couldn’t speak. I just nodded." His voice dropped. "And he placed his hand on my chest. Said so words I couldn’t understand."
"Magic," I whispered.
"Yes." He glanced at . "Real magic. Forbidden. But strong."
My heart beat faster.
"It healed ," he said. "But it didn’t... just heal."
I waited.
Cassius clenched his jaw slightly. "Sothing inside changed. And it wasn’t just . Since then, the King has done it for others. Quietly. Selectively. So warriors. So scouts. Wolves that would have died otherwise."
He turned to face fully now.
"But there’s a price. A risk."
I nodded. "The shifting."
"Yes. Not everybody can handle the magic the sa way. So get stronger. Sharper. Others—"
"—lose control."
"Exactly."
I tried to breathe, but the weight of his words clung to my chest.
"And it’s not always the sa," he continued. "So wolves... it happens once a year. So once a month. So... never."
I swallowed. "And you?"
"Every few weeks," he admitted quietly. "It builds. Until it breaks loose."
"And the King?" I asked, eyes narrowing. "He just lets it happen?"
Cassius was silent for a mont.
"He thinks it’s worth it," he said finally. "He thinks saving lives is worth the cost."
"But at what cost?" I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
The fire crackled softly behind him, shadows dancing across his face.
I looked at him — the man who once told to run.
The man who had collapsed in the woods, shaking and broken.
And now I understand.
He hadn’t warned that night just to protect from the King’s wrath.
He’d warned because he was scared.
Of himself.
"I didn’t want you to see like that," he said suddenly, his voice barely audible. "Not you."
I blinked. "Why?"
Cassius looked away. "Because I can control everything else. My breath. My blade. My words. But not... that."
There was a silence between us, thick with things we weren’t saying.
"I’m leaving today," I said, changing the subject, though my voice stayed soft. "The King’s sending and Lucas to Varos."
He frowned. "Why?"
"To retrieve sothing called the Kurd. A fragnt."
Cassius’s expression shifted. "That’s dangerous territory."
"I figured." I stepped back slightly. "Apparently, the fragnt’s hidden inside the mouth of a demon beast."
Cassius raised his eyebrows. "That sounds... dangerous."
"Right?" I gave a short, dry laugh. "And the worst part? We’re supposed to take it without killing it."
He blinked. "That sounds like sothing Lucas would call fun."
I snorted. "Exactly."
Then, for a second, the mood lightened. Just a flicker of ease between us.
I t his gaze again. "Thank you, Cassius. For telling ."
He gave a small nod. "Be careful in Varos."
I walked to the door, but before I opened it, I turned back.
"Cassius?"
"Yeah?"
"When the moon goddess is revived fully, she will have a way to completely get rid of it."
His eyes softened — just for a mont. "I hope so."
Then I left.
I didn’t linger after I left Cassius’s room.
There were too many thoughts swirling in my head, and none of them were kind. Magic that saved. Magic that was ruined. Wolves unravelling. Kings with secrets and gods on the verge of collapse.
I didn’t know where any of it was taking .
But I knew where I had to be now.
The front gates of the palace were ahead, wide and silver-edged, flanked by two towering guards who didn’t even glance at as I passed. They knew who I was now. And they knew not to ask questions.
Lucas stood near the stables, already dressed in travel gear, his black cloak fluttering slightly in the cold wind. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his posture lazy as always. His eyes slid toward as I approached. "You’re late."
I raised an eyebrow. "I had sothing to take care of."
He didn’t ask.
I didn’t offer.
Instead, I swung myself onto the waiting horse, tightening the reins with a sharp jerk.
Lucas climbed onto his own mount with ease. "Ready to flirt with demon beasts and nobles who bathe in power?"
I shot him a look. "If we both die on this mission, just know it’ll be your fault."
"Fair." He smirked. "But we won’t. We’re too irritating to kill."
The gates began to open.
The wind whipped harder now, biting at my face.
We didn’t speak again.
Didn’t need to.
We rode.
Out.
And straight into whatever hell waited for us next.
The road to Varos was colder than I expected.
Not just the wind, but the stillness. A silence that clung to the trees, too complete to be natural. The kind that makes your instincts twitch even when your senses co up empty.
Lucas rode slightly ahead, his cloak trailing like a shadow across the muddy path. He didn’t speak much, and for once, I didn’t want him to.
The trees here felt wrong.
Twisted.
Even the birds were silent.
By the third hour, I started noticing the signs.
A deer carcass — untouched, but frozen mid-run, eyes wide, bloodless.
A patch of forest where the leaves had turned black, even though it wasn’t autumn.
A strange symbol burned into the side of a tree, so deep the bark had peeled like old flesh.
"Lucas," I said finally, slowing my horse.
He turned slightly. "I know."
"You saw it too?"
"Four of them now," he said, nodding toward the woods. "Sa mark. Sa placent."
I frowned. "You think it’s from the nobles?"
He didn’t answer.
Which told enough.
We pressed on.
A few miles later, the sky began to darken — too early for sunset, too thick for mist. It crawled in slowly, like it was watching us.
And then ca the scent.
Rot.
Not fresh death.
Not old decay.
Sothing older. Wilder. Wrong.
My horse jerked under . Lucas’s mount shifted restlessly, ears flattening.
"Whatever it is," he said quietly, "it knows we’re here."
I tightened my grip on the reins. "What is it?"
"I don’t know yet," Lucas murmured. "But it’s not just watching. It’s waiting."
I didn’t like that.
I didn’t like any of it.
But we didn’t stop.
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