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.”
