Phoebe hit the ground with a solidthud, snow and mud scattering.
Alena stood over her, breath ragged, shield arm trembling.
“—but praise the Huntress,” Phoebe said, wiping sweat from her brow, “you can hold your own in a fight, Alena. And when war comes, you’ll be ready.”
Alena allowed herself a small, satisfied grin.
“What are you smiling at?” Phoebe jumped to her feet with infuriating ease, rolling her bruised shoulder like nothing hadhappened. “Drink some water, and let’s try that again. That last hit was pure luck.”
Once the snow melted,revealing the treacherous mountain path, Alena and Phoebe prepared for their descent. Alena’s thoughts raced ahead to what news might await them in the valley. Had there been more Rasennan attacks? A full legion would struggle through the deep winter snow, but she wouldn’t put it past the Emperor to try.
Trying to quell her anxiety, she slid her few belongings into a worn leather satchel and paused when her hand closed around the Achaean short sword Nik had given her.
Promise you’ll get the answers you need and then come back to us.
There were still many answers waiting, but she was no longer lost. She had endured, changed, and learned. It was time to return.
She knelt on the furs of her makeshift bed and pulled out the felt-wrapped shape hidden beneath the layers—her mother’s necklace. Many nights she had lain awake, fingers tracing its familiar curves, her Gifted eyes picking out every intricate detail even in the dark.
It was more than a link to her mother. It reminded her of Leukos.
A familiar ache tightened in her chest. No matter how many bruises she earned sparring with Phoebe, the ache never dulled.
She’d tried to bury it, but when the world quieted at night, his absence roared. When she closed her eyes, it was his face she saw.
She missed him so, so much.
He’d come to her again in a dream the night before. Not as the man who’d protected her, but as a boy, barefoot, alone, and kneeling on a beach as the tide surged around him. Alena had never seen the sea, yet her mind conjured it vividly: mountainous waves rearing high, ready to crash and swallow him whole.
Leukos’ eyes were shut tight, lips moving in silent, desperate prayer. In his hands, he held a statue carved of driftwood, depicting a stern man with a beard and trident.
The Sea God.
Far off, a woman sprinted along the shore, arms outstretched, screaming for him—her voice lost in the roar of the sea.
Alena had woken gasping, drenched in sweat, her pulse thudding in her ears.
Was it only a dream? Or something more? A memory that wasn’t hers? It had been so vivid, so sharp, as if she’d stood on that beach herself.
Blinking hard, she tucked the torc back into her satchel.
Outside, a slate-grey sky greeted her, casting a sombre mood over the surrounding peaks. The snow was beautiful yet desolate, the valley below hidden in a curtain of mist.
Waiting for Phoebe, she stamped her feet against the cold. The journey ahead would take at least two days, if all went well. But she was ready. Her muscles were sore but strong, honed by Phoebe’s relentless drills. She was no longer the girl who’d first climbed the mountain.
A voice broke through the quiet.
“Alena.”
She turned, expecting Phoebe, but found the Grey-Eyed Maiden perched on a boulder. As the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, they cast a pale, ethereal light over the goddess, sharpening the flawless angles of her face.
Alena’s breath caught. There was a terrible, inhuman stillness to her beauty, and she suddenly understood why so many Achaeans had worshipped her and killed in her name.
The Maiden said nothing, but the air around them thickened with unspoken tension.
Something was wrong.
“What is it?” Alena asked, her satchel slipping from her shoulder to the ground. She stepped closer, heart thudding. “What happened?”
