Nik chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, cousin. Alena summoned an army of demon hounds—they tore through the cohort.”
Danaos frowned, bewildered. Without a word, he dismounted, tossing his reins and helmet to the nearest soldier before striding towards them. “You’re right,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the carnage. “I don’t believe you.”
Before anyone could respond, three enormous hounds slinked towards Alena, licking their bloodied jowls. “I didn’t summon them,” she explained as they gathered around her. Danaos stiffened. “The Huntress lent them to me for one day and one night. And as you can see, they’ll tear down any enemy.”
“The Twelve spare us,” Despoina muttered, hand tightening on her sword hilt, wide eyes fixed on the monstrous beasts.
“This is our chance to take down the Twelfth Legion,” Alena continued, glancing between Leukos and Theo. “Let’s bring the fight to them—while we still have the hounds.”
“The siege?” Danaos echoed, his brow knitting as he looked to Theo for confirmation. “That’s five thousand men—ten times what we faced today.”
Uneasy murmurs rippled through the fresh soldiers on horseback. Doubt spread like a storm cloud. Alena had expected it—charging a siege camp with so few seemed sheer madness.
But then again, so was commanding a goddess’ hunting pack.
She called to the hounds, her magic a summons that needed no words. The air thrummed, and shadows stirred. One by one, the beasts emerged from the ruins, slipping through torn tents and crawling over broken bodies. Their fur gleamed as black as obsidian, flowing like liquid darkness towards the gates.
A terrifying army of fur, fangs, and claws.
A collective intake of breath swept through the ranks. Instinctively, the soldiers stepped back, their fear tangible. Even Nik retreated a few paces, joining Leukos and Theo at asafer distance. Alena couldn’t blame them. The sheer number of hounds—four dozen, maybe more—was overwhelming. They poured from the wreckage like a living tide, each more fearsome than the last.
Theo crossed his arms, calm as ever, as he surveyed the pack. “I think the odds just shifted in our favour,” he said to Danaos.
Alena allowed herself a small smile, resting her hand on the head of the nearest hound. “They’re hungry,” she crooned softly, her voice edged with dangerous promise. “And they want to hunt.”
The tension shifted, the hesitation from moments ago melting away.
Leukos, silent until now, stepped forward. “Then let’s not waste this opportunity,” he declared, his jaw set. “We strike tonight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
KATELL
The ride to Dodona stretched endlessly, each day blurring into the next beneath unrelenting rain and frosty nights. For days, Katell, Arnza, and Pinaria rode hard, halting only when their horses could no longer carry them. Silence was their constant companion, heavy and suffocating, broken only by thethudof hooves or the patter of rain dripping through the canopy.
Their single respite came at a village Pinaria had marked on the map, where a Rasennan unit was stationed. Bearing Damocles’ seal and scroll, they secured food, replenished supplies, and swapped their exhausted mounts for fresh ones.
Pinaria stayed buried in her map, brow furrowed in concentration as she charted their course, tracing the most efficient routes through the treacherous terrain. She was an anchor for their small group, but Katell could see the fatigue etched into her features.
Arnza, however, was an enigma. He’d been unusually quiet, retreating into himself, his sharp gaze always scanning the horizon as he hunted or tended the fire. Katell had tried toengage him—after all, he’d been nothing if not loyal to Rasenna, and since the incident with Tarchun, every step with her edged him closer to treason. Perhaps he followed only for Pinaria’s sake. Yet whenever she pressed, he gave nothing more than an easy smile and a quiet assurance that everything was fine.
At night, her mind refused to rest. Beneath the cold, star-filled sky, images of Alena and Nik plagued her thoughts. Her sister’s revelations, Nik’s words—they stirred painful memories long buried, now rising to the surface as they drew closer to Dodona.
Memories of Leywani and Scylas.
Had Alena spoken the truth? Had Leywani and Scylas been enslaved at the quarry all this time? What would she even say if she found them? Sorry felt useless in the face of such suffering.
No—there was only one thing she could offer now: freedom. She would buy them back from the quarry, no matter the cost. Tear them away from the torment and bring them home to the Freefolk Lands. It wouldn’t erase their scars, but maybe, just maybe, they could find peace again. It was the least they deserved.
“We’re almost there,” Pinaria announced quietly.
They rode in silence through ancient ruins, crumbled remnants of Achaean temples, half swallowed by creeping vines and wild grasses.
“When we arrive, we stay hidden,” Katell reminded them, her voice cutting through the steady rhythm of hooves. Over the past days, they’d pieced together a fragile plan, anticipating every danger. “We assess the situation first, then decide our next move.”
But as they neared the quarry, columns of smoke twisted into the sky—dark, heavy, far more than a few campfires. Katell’s pulse quickened.
The sprawling sight of dozens of tents came into view, clustered around the quarry like a fortress. Soldiers moved among the encampment, armour catching the pale morning light, banners of the Rasennan Legion snapping in the chilly breeze.
