Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Is the content of my lecture boring you, son of Jason?” Professor Graemyre’s cold gaze swept across the vast marble hall, sharp as a blade, pinning Jay in place. The silence felt solid, stretching as every head turned in his direction, faces smirking or staring.

“Not at all, Professor Graemyre,” Jay mumbled, heat creeping up his neck as soft chuckles echoed around him. He had been here at the academy for a full year, and still, his mind often drifted to the landscape outside: the sweeping mountains, the glimmering seascape—a scene too wild and majestic to ignore. Perhaps that wandering urge was simply the human in him, unsettled by stone walls and rigid routines.

The Elven professor tilted his head with a dry smile. “Well then, if you’re so captivated, surely you can enlighten the class on the socio-political aftermath following the Titan War?”

“Jay straightened, thumbing hastily through his notes to dodge his classmates’ glances. “Uh, well…” His fingers found little more than his own idle sketches—maps half-drawn, mountains scrawled in bored lines, restless thoughts masquerading as notes. He strained to recall his mother’s tales of the war.

“Yes,” he began slowly, “after Cronus fell…” He noticed Professor Graemyre’s grimace at the mere mention of the name.

“Zeus raised up Mount Olympus, establishing it as a realm for the Gods once they reclaimed their powers. But when the Olympians withdrew to their palace, they left the land’s governance to the people below. This abandonment didn’t sit well— everyone was divided on who should be in charge. Eventually a faction of high elves claimed rulership, based on their wealth and proximity to Olympus.” Jay continued, noting his professor’s deepening scowl as the story unfolded. “Even though peace was mostly restored, most people weren’t too happy about one clan of wealthy elves ruling everyone. Around Olympus, races began drawing borders and forming territories…”

A murmur ran through the elven students, their eyes narrowing in distaste. Jay pressed on. “But the Darke Forest stands between these territories and Olympus, making it near impossible for a lot of communities to get resources and trade - “

“Sir!” A voice broke in from the back, curious and unrestrained. “What exactly is in the Darke Forest? Why can’t the elves just cut a path through it and take the land?”

The hall erupted into whispers and smirks, a few students rolling their eyes, while others cast glances at Professor Graemyre, wondering if he’d tolerate the question.

Graemyre’s gaze darkened, but he obliged. “Many say the Darke Forest is cursed—a labyrinth that shifts with the seasons, ensnaring those foolish enough to enter. Few paths are marked, and those who venture inside…” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over them, his voice sinking into a sombre hush. “Rarely return.” He surveyed the now-wary faces with a faint smirk. “Others believe the forest still harbours fugitives and followers of Cronus - rogues, exiles, and creatures who survived the Titan War’s ravages.”

“Vampires and werewolves?” the voice piped up again, less respectful this time. The class dissolved into laughter, the bold question shaking loose their unease. But Graemyre snapped upright, his face a storm cloud.

“You,” he called sharply, “stand up. Your name.” Silence fell as a boy of about eighteen stood, unfazed. Fair-haired and striking, his blue eyes glinted with the light of high Elven blood, his golden tunic gleaming in contrast to the academy’s sombre Paladin uniforms. Behind him, two halfling girls shared a glance, cheeks rosy as their soft giggles fluttered at the sight of the handsome newcomer.

“Well, to members of my household, I am Thalaneil Lysanthir of House Valmaris…” he replied, his voice rich with unbothered pride as he combed his long, tanned fingers through his hair. “To you people… ‘Your Highness’ will suffice.” He continued, whispers amongst the class grew louder as the professor’s face turned a deep shade of crimson.

“But friends call me Neil.” He added, his mouth twitching into a cool smile.

Quiet gasps echoed amongst from the Elven students. Jay found himself drawn to the newcomer, sensing both arrogance and intrigue in his presence, while Graemyre’s gaze turned steely.

“Ah yes, the Great Thalaneil –“

“-I’d really prefer just Neil. “

“Tell us Thalaneil,” The professor descended from his podium, his gaze sharp. “You seem to have a boundless source of wisdom - how would you govern trade and diplomacy in territories you’ve never stepped foot in? Lands with histories you barely know?” He moved closer, eyes locking on Neil’s as he prowled the aisle. “Would you simply cut through and claim what you wish, as a conqueror?” Neil’s jaw tightened, but Graemyre pressed on. “Sending forces from the North would mean crossing Dwarf territory. They’ll demand a toll, and they’re not known for leniency.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Then go east.”

Graemyre’s smirk deepened. “Through the crowded farmlands of humankind? Force them to the Darke forest’s edge like the Genasi tribes? You’d have a rebellion on your hands before cutting a single tree.”

Neil’s face flushed; his retort silenced.

Graemyre’s expression softened, almost pitying. “Your family sent you here to learn, to become a Paladin warrior.” He straightened, his gaze drifting over the hushed room. “Paladins uphold justice, but they are also the defenders of the lost and the shield of the oppressed. We honor the Olympians, yes, but our strength lies in our own vow to serve righteousness. We train you in strength, and we train you in wisdom—to know right from wrong, to see beneath the surface.”

The room was silent, hanging on Graemyre’s every word, “As with any Paladin, someday in your lifetime you’ll each be required to take a vow that commits you to a cause of righteousness; an active path against darkness.”

His eyes settled coldly on Neil. “So, I suggest, Neil, you do not interrupt my class again.” His gaze shifted to Jay, firm but less severe. “And that you stay attentive.”

As the lecture concluded, Neil sauntered from his desk, shadowed by a short human boy burdened with an armload of books.

“What’s my next class, again?” Neil asked from behind his pocket mirror as he fussed with his hair. His companion sighed, clearly exasperated.

“It’s a scheduled meal break before an open study period; you should really memorise your own class schedule, you know.”

Odd, Jay thought to himself, human Paladins were practically unheard of. The school board were hesitant to even allow Jay entry to the program for having a human mother until they found out his father was the famous war-hero, Jason, who died leading the High Elves to victory during the Titan War.

“But that’s why I have you here, Odie, you’re my representative… my footman!”

“They’re paying me to tutor you and make sure you don’t stick your foot in your big mouth in front of the Elves,” The short boy grumbled.

Neil huffed, folding away his mirror dramatically. “Humans may be good for diplomacy but, Zeus, you guys can be crabby.”

Jay followed the pair into the bustling corridor. This part of the academy was easily the most beautiful—a sweeping open-air passage framed by marble columns that led to a grand balcony overlooking the mountains. The academy was nestled deep within the range, hidden from view, yet even here, the tang of the sea lingered in the air. Jay inhaled deeply, the scent tugging at something deep within him—a restless ache, as if the sea itself were calling..

“Watch your pet, your Majesty!” A harsh voice rang out, sharp and venomous.
Startled, Jay turned just in time to see Odie sprawled on the ground, his books scattered across the busy corridor floor. Standing over him was a towering figure Jay recognised immediately – Rhogar.

Neil didn’t hesitate. “What are you supposed to be, some sort of lizard-man?” Neil said, sounding more unimpressed than anything else.

Rhogar’s amber eyes narrowed, his rust-coloured scales pulling taut as his lips curled back to reveal a row of reptilian teeth. “Don’t tell me you’ve never met a Dragonborn before,” he snarled. “You really are sheltered. It’s disgraceful to your kind!”

His voice echoed through the corridor, drawing the attention of passing students. Jay stepped forward quickly, inserting himself between Neil and the furious Dragonborn before things escalated further.

“Back off, Rhogar,” Jay said evenly, his voice calm but firm.

Rhogar chuckled darkly, his gaze flicking from Jay to Neil with a predatory glint. “Or what, half-blood? It sickens me that the academy would allow such weak bloodlines to train as Paladins.”

Jay rolled his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. Dragonborn students were notoriously proud and patriotic creatures. Rhogar especially. They were humanoid enough to pass in most societies, like dragons that stood as men – but they missed the genetic benefit of wings or a tail. They were favoured as Paladins not only for their size and devotion to mastery but because to any Dragonborn, clan is more important than life itself. Dragonborn owe their devotion and respect to their clan above all else, even the Gods. This makes them excellent allies and excruciating enemies.

“Haven’t you got better things to do than pick on new students?” Jay as he crouched to help Odie gather his fallen books. Before he could stand upright, a sharp talon seized his shoulder, yanking him backward.

“I could remind the filthy half-human where his place is,” Rhogar sneered, baring his jaws.

“Hey, I’m half-human. How about you pick on me?” A familiar voice cut in.

A towering figure stepped into the scene, his broad shoulders and confident stride instantly drawing attention.

“Herry!” Jay exclaimed, the sight of his tall friend filling him with relief. Herry leaned in close to Rhogar, his voice calm but laced with menace.

“I think you ought to get to class,” he said, his tone daring a challenge. “Or would you prefer me carry you there myself?”

Rhogar snarled under his breath but slowly released Jay, his talons retracting as he stepped back. He glared at the group, kicking a book Odie was reaching for across the hall.

“You’d better watch yourselves, half-bloods!” He spat before stalking down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

Even Rhogar knew better than to square up to Herry, whose half-giant strength made him one of the only students capable of inflicting any real damage. Over the past year, having Herry as a best friend had made life at the academy far more bearable for Jay. Herry was one of the rare students completely unfazed by the prejudice tied to human lineage. Perhaps it was because he was big enough that no one dared to call his bloodline weak. Maybe it stemmed from growing up on quiet farmlands, far removed from the scrutiny of city-dwellers. Or maybe it had something to do with his human grandmother—a woman once feared as one of the most notorious assassins of the century. Whatever the reason, Herry treated everyone equally, without exception.

It was one of the reasons Jay enjoyed being around him so much.

“Jeez, run ins with Dragon-breath before lunch – that’s got to be a new record!” Herry chuckled.

“We have our friend Neil here to thank for that,” Jay said with a sly grin, handing Odie a fallen book.

“That was NOT my fault! He just about slammed through us! Besides, it was Odie who got in his way…” Neil protested, gesturing wildly to his companion. Odie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah right, you’re – wait…” Odie’s gaze fell on Jay, his expression shifting. “I know you! You grew up in Silverkeep too, right?”

It took a moment for Jay to connect the dots. “Wait… Odie? No way!” A grin broke across his face as the pair laughed, pulling each other into a loose hug. “I haven’t seen you since you got the scholarship to study at the Palace! What are you doing here?” Jay asked, excitement colouring his tone.

“Yeah, the program keeps me busy. I’ve been able to make enormous progress in my own research thanks to the Palace’s library….” Odie paused, leaning closer to Jay.

“Between you and me, the program is more of a glorified babysitting service. I’m basically a personal assistant.” He said quietly, tilting his head towards Neil.

Jay clapped him on the shoulder, undeterred. “But you’re the smartest person I know! Your research and inventions are going to put Silverkeep on the map someday.”

“Me? What about you?” Odie countered with a wry smile. “It was a surprise to no one the day you ran off to join the Paladins. What with your lineage and all - I think there are going to be a lot more eyes on you.”

“Uh, Excuse me! Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Neil interjected, tapping his foot impatiently.

Odie rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

“Sorry,” Jay said quickly. “I’m jay, I grew up in the same village as Odie,” he smiled politely, gesturing toward the tall boy beside him. “And this is- “

“I’m Herry!” The brawny teen announced, his husky voice full of warmth. “Any friend of Jay’s is a friend of mine!”

Herry grinned at the new-commers, before clapping a large hand on Odie’s back. The smaller teen staggered forward with a startled oof, shooting Herry an exasperated look. If Herry noticed, he gave no indication.

Turning his attention to Neil, Herry extended his hand with a grin. “Nice to meet you!”

Neil regarded the offered hand with a look of mild horror, as though Herry had presented him with a mud-covered glove. “Uh, a pleasure. You may call me Neil, I suppose…” he said with an exaggerated sigh, flinging his hand forward like he was granting a great favour. The jewelled rings on his fingers caught the light, as if he expected them to be kissed.

Herry blinked at Neil’s hand, clearly confused by the gesture, before awkwardly grasping Neil’s fingertips in a firm shake. Neil grimaced as though he’d been subjected to some great indignity.

“Look, is there someone in charge I can talk to about my classes?” Neil asked, flipping his hair dramatically as he surveyed the group. “I really think there should be some kind of accelerated program for someone like me. I mean, I shouldn’t have to spend so much time with the common folk. I’m on a bit of a time crunch with this whole Paladin thing—being royalty and all.”

Jay and Herry stared at him, dumbfounded, while Odie rubbed his temples, clearly wishing he could vanish into thin air.

“You want Chiron,” Jay said finally, his tone sharp. “He’s the headmaster.”

“We can take you!” Herry interjected, grinning as he threw his arms around both Neil and Jay, pulling them close in an overly enthusiastic half-hug.

“Finally, some respect from the students at this Academy,” Neil sighed, tilting his chin upward with a regal air.

Odie exchanged a pained look with Jay, who rolled his eyes as if to say, This is going to be a long day.

Led by Herry and Jay, the group made their way through the bustling main hall of the Academy toward the Eastern Wing. Looming ahead was a grand spiral staircase, its marble steps gleaming in the midday light. Neil stopped short, staring up at the dizzying height of the structure.

Students moved effortlessly from one floor to the next, darting up and down the stairs without a second thought, their confidence unshaken by the unnerving absence of a railing. Neil swallowed hard, his face paling.

“Chiron’s at the top,” Jay said, glancing back over his shoulder.

Neil groaned, his head tipping back as he scanned the seemingly endless ascent. “That’s got to be at least eight stories!”

At the base of the staircase, Odie dumped the stack of books he’d been carrying onto the floor with a careless shrug. “I’ll get them later,” he said, already striding up the stairs.

The rest followed, their footsteps echoing in the vast hall. Neil lingered at the bottom for a moment longer, muttering something under his breath before reluctantly dragging himself upward, his pace lagging far behind the others.

As they climbed the winding staircase, Jay’s thoughts drifted back to what Neil had said about “being on a time crunch.” What could a prince, with the greatest tutors and swordsmen at his disposal, possibly gain from Paladin training? Surely the Palace had the resources to mold Neil into the finest warrior in the land—if he even wanted that.

Jay smirked at the thought. It was hard to picture someone as vain and meticulous as Neil wielding a sword with any real ferocity. The image of the prince frowning at a smudge on his armor was far more believable than one of him charging into battle. Still, the mystery lingered in Jay’s mind. What could have brought him here, of all places? Perhaps Chiron would have answers.

The group finally reached the top of the staircase, their steps slowing as they approached a massive arched door reinforced with rusted iron plating. Neil strode forward without hesitation, reaching for the handle to let himself in.

Jay’s arm shot out, stopping him in his tracks. Without a word, Jay rapped firmly on the heavy door, the sound echoing through the stone corridor.
You’d think a prince would know manners… Jay thought with a shake of his head, suppressing a grin.

The heavy door creaked, the sound echoing ominously before it swung open on its own. The boys hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside.

The scent of old parchment and dried herbs hit Jay immediately, rich and earthy. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves crammed full of ancient tomes, their spines cracked and faded with age. Colourful potions sat on narrow shelves, their glass vials refracting light into shimmering rainbows that danced across the stone walls.

Jay’s eyes wandered, catching glimpses of archaic weaponry tucked into shadowed corners—strange designs and craftsmanship he didn’t recognise. Perhaps relics of battles long forgotten, or simply old mementos. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the walls in neat bundles, their muted colours glowing softly under the golden light streaming through the solarium roof.

In the centre of the room stood a massive oak desk, its surface cluttered with scrolls, ink pots, and a scattering of tools. Over it all loomed the centaur himself.

Chiron, though clearly aged, exuded an undeniable strength. His posture was upright, his broad frame dwarfing the desk as he stood over a pile of parchment, his hands carefully arranging the documents. Nothing about him seemed frail. His sharp, intelligent eyes lifted from his work, piercing through the room to his guests.

“Ah, Jay and Herry,” Chiron greeted, his voice calm but commanding. “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of our new admissions.”

Setting aside the parchment, the centaur stepped forward with deliberate grace, his silver-streaked hide catching the sunlight as he moved. “I trust everything is to your liking, young Thalaneil?”

“It’s Neil,” the prince corrected curtly, his tone clipped. “And I’d like to discuss the possibility of speeding along my progression in this course. You see, I’ve already been trained in most subjects by the best tutors in the land. I really don’t see how I can gain anything more from this program, and I’d hate to waste any more of your valuable time. I thought we could arrange for me to graduate early so I can take my oath before the next Solstice.”

Jay caught the deepening lines on Chiron’s brow and smirked to himself. This should be good.

“You thought wrong, Neil,” Chiron said, his voice calm but with an edge of authority. His sharp gaze held steady, belying the harshness of his furrowed expression. “I cannot allow any student to become a Paladin unless they have demonstrated unwavering dedication and devotion to righteousness.”

“But I am righteous!” Neil protested, throwing his hands up in frustration. “No one’s more righteous at being right than me! Ask anyone!”

Behind him, Odie groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, Neil,” Chiron continued, his tone unwavering, “but unless you demonstrate the conduct of a true Paladin, I cannot allow you to graduate with such a title. Paladin oaths are not to be taken lightly, young one.”

Chiron’s long, grey beard shifted as he spoke, the light catching the silver strands. “A sacred oath binds you to a path destined to combat darkness. To commit to one prematurely, without proper training, would be a grave mistake—one that could easily lead to your death.”

“But what if it’s a matter of life and death?” Neil asked, shifting uncomfortably as he bit his lip. His usual bravado faltered, and for a moment, he looked far younger than his princely airs suggested.

Chiron’s thick brows knitted together as he studied the boy. The room grew heavy with silence. Jay and Herry exchanged a glance before looking to Odie, whose expression had darkened.

“Neil, what’s going on?” Jay asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Neil’s shoulders sagged, the weight of whatever he carried dragging him down. “It’s… kind of a long story,” he stammered, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

“It seems we have time enough,” Chiron said calmly, his voice a steady anchor in the growing tension. He gestured to a circle of large cushions arranged within an annex of the solarium, bathed in soft sunlight.

Without another word, the group moved to the space, settling themselves into the inviting cushions. The faint rustle of fabric and the distant chirp of birds filled the quiet as they waited for Neil to speak.

“It’s like this…” Neil began, his usual confidence dimmed by a nervous edge. “When I was born, it’s customary for the various clans to bestow gifts on the new heir. Naturally, my birth attracted a lot of attention—big names, important figures. But the biggest one was the representative from Mount Olympus—Aphrodite herself.”

He paused, his lips twitching into a brief, uneasy smile. “She saw how naturally gorgeous I was, even as a baby, and blessed me with the gift of incomparable luck.”

Jay fought the urge to roll his eyes. I’m struggling to see where I should sympathize, he thought dryly.

Neil continued, his tone growing more subdued. “The luck has been great for the most part. I mean, I manifest pretty much all of my heart’s desires one way or another. But the gift—or at least what I thought was a gift—kind of backfired on me… about a week ago.”

The room grew still. Even the faint hum of birds beyond the solarium faded into the background.

“My parents and I were at a temple dedicated to the Olympians,” Neil said, his voice quieter now, as though forcing himself to revisit the memory. “We were supposed to perform this ritual to honour them. It was a stupid ritual. I didn’t want to do it… so I didn’t.” He hesitated, his fingers twitching in his lap. “And that’s when things started to go wrong.”

Chiron’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line, as though he could already see where the story was headed.

Neil swallowed hard and went on. “My parents got into this huge argument—screaming about how I’d ‘offended the Gods.’ And… I guess I didn’t take it seriously. I said something… bad.” He faltered, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t even remember exactly what it was. Something about how it was all stupid. Something about how I wished they’d all just leave me alone.”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers clenching into fists. “And it was like they heard me.”

Jay leaned forward slightly, the weight of Neil’s words sinking in.

“They turned to stone,” Neil whispered, his voice barely audible.

A heavy silence fell over the room, the kind that made the air feel thick and unmoving. For the first time since they’d met him, Neil didn’t seem like a prince or even an arrogant classmate. To Jay, he suddenly looked like a frightened child, small and vulnerable.

“I told the High Elvin Council, of course,” Neil said after a long pause, his voice trembling slightly. “They freaked out, said we couldn’t let the other clans know the rulers were… incapacitated. They were terrified it’d lead to a revolt. So they sent me here.”

His gaze flickered up, desperate and pleading. “They think if I become a Paladin, take a sacred oath, maybe… maybe that’ll lead me to a cure. Something that can undo the curse.”

He trailed off, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. The group sat in stunned silence, the gravity of his story weighing down on them all.

“If we can’t undo it before the clans meet at the next Solstice, the Elves are going to charge Neil with treason to save face in front of the others,” Odie said quietly. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as silence gripped the room.

Chiron paced slowly, his expression unreadable. His tail swayed in deliberate, measured arcs, the only sound breaking the stillness.

“Please,” Neil said, his voice trembling as he stepped forward. “I made a mistake, but I want to fix it! Not just for me—but for my parents…”

The centaur turned to face him, his sharp gaze meeting Neil’s earnest, pleading expression. For what felt like an eternity, Chiron said nothing, his silence weighing heavily on them all.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but resolute. “I cannot give you the title of Paladin, nor can I allow you to take an oath. You are not ready.”

Neil’s shoulders sagged at the verdict, his confidence crumbling under the weight of those words.

Herry, sitting nearby, rose abruptly, his fists clenched, ready to protest. But Chiron raised a hand, silencing him before he could speak.

“But,” Chiron continued, his tone softening ever so slightly, “what I can do is help you break your curse.”

Neil’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with renewed hope.

“You cannot take an oath if you are not a Paladin,” Chiron explained, his voice steady, “but you can go to the city of Delphi and seek a prophecy from one of the three Oracles. A prophecy guarantees you a pathway to undoing the curse.”

The boys exchanged uncertain glances, the weight of the suggestion sinking in.

“Be warned,” Chiron added, stroking his long, silver beard, “it is no easy task to gain an audience with the Oracle women. And even if they grant you a prophecy, the journey it sets you on will be fraught with trials… and sacrifice.”

His words carried a quiet finality that filled the room, the kind that made it clear this was no simple solution. The gravity of what lay ahead loomed over them all.

“No problem! With my luck and Odie’s brains, we’ll be laughing about this by the weekend,” Neil said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Woah, wait a minute… Odie’s brains?” Odie exclaimed, taking a step back. “I don’t know if this kind of thing is my scene. I’m just book smart! Racing across the country, facing Zeus knows what?! That’s a whole different story—I don’t know…”

“Come on, Odie! You’re always saying you want more adventure,” Neil countered, throwing up his hands. “You’re telling me you’d pass up the chance to meet the Oracles of Delphi?”

“Well…” Odie hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.

Neil pounced on the moment of doubt. “Odie, if you help me fix this, I’ll guarantee you a lifetime grant for whatever research you want at the palace when this is over! Your own library—heck, a wing named after you. Whatever you want!”

Odie frowned, clearly weighing the offer. Jay’s gaze shifted to Chiron, curious for a reaction, but the centaur had wandered to the annex window, his eyes fixed on something far in the distance, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Odie sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’m in. But don’t expect me to be your pack mule like I am at school.”

“Yeah, baby! That’s what I’m talking about!” Neil cheered, pumping his fist in victory. “So, Chiron, how do we get to Delphi from here?”

Chiron turned slowly from the window, his gaze still distant. “Luckily for you, I’ve decided to make a last-minute trip to Delphi myself,” he said.

Jay noticed the slight unease in Chiron’s voice. His eyes wandered past the centaur to the view outside, and he froze.

Far off in the distance, Mount Olympus loomed. Its towering peak was shrouded in a swirling mass of dark storm clouds, so thick they seemed to choke the mountain. Forks of lightning crackled through the clouds, illuminating the summit with bursts of cold, silver light. The mountain didn’t look like a place of divine order—it looked restless, almost alive.

“Chiron… the mountain,” Jay said, his voice hushed. He had never seen Mount Olympus cloaked in such darkness.

Chiron didn’t turn to meet his gaze. His voice was quiet but heavy with meaning. “There is nothing natural about that storm,” he said at last. “The Gods have been eerily quiet since our last correspondence.”

“You speak to them?” Jay asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Chiron nodded solemnly. “There has been a restlessness across the land—and not just in the palace,” the centaur disclosed. “Beasts thought to have been destroyed since the Titan War have been sighted along the borders of the Darke Forest. Clans are disappearing, whispers of revolt. I fear something far worse is coming.”

“Worse like… what?” Herry asked, his voice slow and deliberate.

“Worse like—”

All the sudden, the sound of splintering glass tore through the air. A thunderous crash followed as shards rained down from the solarium above, scattering like glittering daggers across the chamber.

Jay barely had time to react. He instinctively dropped to a crouch, shielding his head with his arms as the echo of the shattering glass vibrated through his chest. From somewhere to his left, Neil let out a sharp yelp and dove beneath one of the large cushions, his muffled cries barely audible over the chaos.

Then came the screech. Long, piercing, and unnatural, it sliced through the air like a blade.

Jay flinched as a sharp pain shot through his shoulder, forcing a cry from his lips. He clutched at the spot, thinking a shard had struck him—until he felt the steady, unrelenting pressure of talons digging into his skin.

“My word…” Chiron’s voice was low, reverent, as though in disbelief.

Jay slowly forced his eyes open, his breath hitching in his throat. Perched on his shoulder was a massive eagle, its golden eyes gleaming with a sharp, unnatural intelligence. Its curved talons dug into him, pinpricks of blood seeping through his tunic. With a powerful beat of its wings, the great bird stirred the air, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

“What’s with—ouch! —this thing?” Jay yelled, shaking his arm in a futile attempt to dislodge the eagle. The bird clung stubbornly to his shoulder, its talons digging deeper with every movement.

Herry surged to his feet, lunging to yank the creature off, but the eagle let out a piercing shriek. The sound hit like a physical force, and Herry staggered backward, crashing into a stack of cushions.

“What’s it doing here?!” Odie shouted, his voice cracking as he scrambled to his feet.

“Maybe it’s migrating south for the winter?” Neil offered, peeking out cautiously from behind the cushion he was still using as a shield.

“It is no mere bird,” Chiron said, his voice trembling with reverence. “This is a call from the Gods. An Olympian Eagle is a messenger from Zeus himself!”

Jay froze, the weight of Chiron’s words sinking in. “But… what would Zeus want with me?” he stammered, glancing at the eagle still perched firmly on his shoulder.

“I intend to find out,” Chiron said gravely, his eyes narrowing as he took in the bird’s unyielding gaze. He paused, then added, “There will be a change in plans. Jay, you must go to Delphi and seek the Oracles. They will interpret this omen. Meanwhile, I will travel to Mount Olympus to consult with the Olympians directly.”

“Me?!” Jay cried, his voice rising in disbelief.

Chiron’s gaze hardened. “Whatever this eagle represents, it has tied itself to you,” he said firmly, already moving to gather satchels and equipment from around the room. “The journey to Delphi is long, but the Oracles will provide the answers we need. The fate of this message rests with you now.”

The eagle flapped its wings once, as if punctuating the centaur’s words, its sharp talons tightening briefly on Jay’s shoulder.

“But Chiron, I can’t just go to Delphi!” Jay protested, his voice rising with panic. “I still have classes, and I don’t know the first thing about—”

“Jay,” Chiron interrupted, his tone firm and commanding. “You have proven yourself to be one of the strongest students in our curriculum. Your ancestry is the stuff of legend. And now, you have an Olympian Eagle perched on your shoulder.” He gestured pointedly at the bird, which shifted its talons but held its ground.

“This is not a matter of whether you can or cannot,” Chiron continued, his voice deepening. “The Gods, for whatever reason, have chosen you. You must answer the call! Delivering this message from the Gods to the Oracles… it may very well be the Fates offering you a sacred path.”

The boys exchanged uneasy glances, their gazes shifting to the eagle, which sat unwavering on Jay’s shoulder, its golden eyes gleaming with an unspoken weight.

“Alright,” Jay finally sighed, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’ll do it.”

“And I’m coming with you!” Herry declared, his enthusiasm breaking through the tension. “We’ll all go!”

“Herry, it could be dangerous!” Jay warned, his tone sharp with concern.

“I can’t let my friends go to Delphi without backup! Plus,” Herry added with a grin, “I’ve always wanted to take a road trip.”

“Perfect! Herry can carry the heavy stuff for the journey,” Neil chimed in, already brushing dust off his tunic as if preparing for a grand adventure.

Chiron stepped closer, his gaze hard and unyielding. “It is vital that you keep this quest between the four of you until you reach the Oracles. Do you understand?” His voice lowered, grave with warning. “Tell no one. The fate of the land could very well be at stake.”

The group exchanged nervous glances, the weight of the moment settling over them. Jay felt the eagle shift again on his shoulder, its sharp talons anchoring him in place as though to remind him of the responsibility now resting squarely on his shoulders.

A restless energy shivered through him, buzzing in his core. Whatever this was, it was bigger than he’d imagined.

Something was beginning.

Chapter Text

Crouched behind a thick wall of shrubbery, the young warrior remained perfectly still, his muscles coiled like a spring. His sharp eyes scanned the dense underbrush ahead, where his hidden snare lay waiting, his ears strained for the faintest sign of life. The Darke Forest around him seemed alive, its towering, gnarled trees twisting toward the sky, their skeletal branches blotting out much of the light. Shadows danced across the forest floor as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, masking faint rustles that could be prey—or predator.

He didn’t care for this kind of work—trapping animals was dull, predictable. A beast that simply wandered into a trap? Where was the challenge in that? He preferred prey that put up a real fight—something with teeth, claws, and a reason to fear. The monsters that stalked the depths of the Darke Forest fit the bill. They weren’t so different from him: surviving in the shadows, unwelcome, and feared.

His lips curled into a faint smirk at the thought. Monsters were easy to figure out, far easier than people. They were predictable in their rage, singular in their instincts. The brutish ones charged without thought, the cunning ones schemed but lacked raw power. And all of them—every last one—underestimated him.

That was their downfall. It always was.

A good hunter didn’t overpower their prey; they outsmarted it. They moved unseen, struck where the beast was weakest, and let it destroy itself. He’d learned that lesson long ago, when being careless wasn’t just a mistake—it was a death sentence. His agility and speed gave him an edge, but it was his mind that made him lethal. His uncanny ability to anticipate movements, to sense the slightest shift in the air, had kept him alive when others wouldn’t have lasted a day.

Last month had been harpies. A farmer had begged him to drive the winged terrors away after they’d slaughtered half his livestock. He’d dealt with them quickly, efficiently, and without hesitation. But the payment? Silver. Typical. He grimaced at the memory, his fingers unconsciously flexing as if they could still feel the burn of the cursed coins. He made a mental note to buy some gloves before handling those coins.

A faint rustle disturbed the stillness of the nearby bushes. The warrior’s senses sharpened instantly, his gaze locking onto the source of the sound. A small hare emerged, its ears twitching nervously as it crept toward the snare.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the soft crunch of leaves. Shifting his weight, he adjusted his stance. The gold-plated ankle brace he wore clicked faintly against the underbrush as he rolled his heel, the sound almost lost in the forest’s ambient hush.

The small creature sniffed at the snare, its nose twitching delicately. For a moment, it seemed as though the trap might spring—but the sharp crack of a twig in the distance shattered the stillness. The hare froze, its ears swivelling toward the sound, then darted back into the underbrush with a flash of grey fur.

The teen groaned softly, slumping back into his hiding place. Hunting for game required more patience than he cared to give. But business was slow, and he needed to eat.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to tamp down the simmering frustration rising in his chest. He couldn’t afford to lose control. Not here, not now. The town was far too close, and the last thing he needed was to draw unwanted attention to himself. The sun was already beginning its slow descent, casting golden rays through the canopy above. He needed to catch something tradeable before nightfall.

His jaw clenched as his mind drifted to the last village he’d passed through. It had been anything but welcoming. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention when the innkeeper handed him the key to his room. He’d taken it without thinking—hadn’t noticed the faint silver sheen until the metal burned his skin. A stupid mistake. He’d yelped, the key clattering to the floor, and the innkeeper’s suspicious glare had told him everything he needed to know.

It hadn’t taken long for the news to spread. By sundown, whispers of something unnatural reached every corner of the village. By nightfall, it wasn’t whispers anymore—it was torches and angry mobs demanding he leave.

Monsters were easy, he thought bitterly. It was people who were the real trouble.

He absently rubbed his thumb over the faint scar on his palm, a reminder of the mistake. The strange balm he’d picked up from that wandering apothecary had worked wonders, but the memory of the burn lingered. He flexed his fingers, testing the spot where the skin had healed smooth, his frustration twisting into something darker.

When suddenly the soft rustle of careful footsteps broke through his thoughts. His sharp gaze flicked toward the sound, snapping the boy back into his crouched stance. Through the dense shrubbery, sunlight painted speckled patterns across the dark forest floor. From the nearby undergrowth, a lean creature emerged.

The sun caught the fiery red sheen of its fur, turning it into a flickering blaze against the shadows. Its pointed ears, dark and sharp, stood rigidly alert, swivelling at the faintest forest sounds.

A fox.

The boy’s breath hitched as he watched it move, its sleek body weaving gracefully through the flora. There was something about foxes that always held his attention. They were clever and cunning — traits often scorned but ones he quietly admired. They weren’t brutish hunters but agile survivors, thriving in a world that wanted them gone. He respected that.

He rarely killed foxes if he could avoid it. They weren’t worth much as meat, and he had no interest in hunting something he respected. But desperation had a way of stripping away preferences. The sun was sinking fast, painting the forest in deep orange hues, and he couldn’t afford to return empty-handed.

Still, this fox was different. It was stunning, its fiery coat shimmering in the fading light, a creature that belonged more to the wild magic of the forest than the mundane pettiness of market stalls. It felt wrong to even consider it.

He let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching at his side. "Leave it to fate," he murmured to himself. If it didn’t trigger the snare, it would walk away unscathed. If not… well, he needed something to trade.

The boy’s heart picked up pace as the fox inched closer to the trap. Its dark nose twitched, sniffing the air cautiously, and it froze for a moment, as if sensing something amiss. Slowly, it crept closer, its body taut and deliberate. It reached the snare and stopped.

He leaned forward, barely daring to breathe.

The fox lowered its head, sniffing the contraption with a look of sharp curiosity. It tilted its head, almost as if puzzled, then circled the trap once, its bushy tail swaying behind it. The boy’s pulse quickened, each movement of the creature feeling like an eternity.

Then, with a sharp sniff, the fox stepped back, raising its head as though unimpressed.

It shook itself lightly, sneezed, and fixed its golden eyes on the snare, almost disdainfully.

“Hey…” the boy frowned defensively.

A low growl rumbled from the underbrush, breaking the stillness. The fox stiffened, its ears flattening as its sharp eyes fixed on the source of the noise. Slowly, it crept toward the disturbance, the soft growl deep in its throat answering the unseen threat.

The warrior’s body tensed, sinking deeper into his cover. He didn’t dare move as his sharp gaze darted between the fox and the rustling bushes beyond. The growl grew louder, heavier, until the foliage began to tremble violently. Something was coming—something big.

The fox stood its ground, growling louder now, as if daring the unseen predator to come closer. Then, with a sudden burst of motion, the bushes exploded outward.

A massive boar charged into the clearing, its hulking form illuminated by the fractured sunlight. Its monstrous tusks glinted like dull blades, sharp enough to tear flesh. It roared at the fox, its snout curled back in fury, before lunging forward in a brutal charge.

The fox leapt back just in time, the boar’s tusks slicing the air where it had stood mere moments ago. Without hesitation, the fox turned and bolted, its lithe body weaving through the forest with practiced ease.

The boar gave chase, tearing through the underbrush with reckless power.

The warrior sprang into action. A boar that size would be more than enough to see him through to the end of the month.

He darted after the beasts, his boots skimming over the uneven forest floor as he kept pace. Stinging nettle bushes lashed at his legs, but he ignored the bite of the thorns, his focus fixed on the chase. He stayed far enough back to avoid detection—if the boar noticed him too soon, the game would end before it began.

His leg brace clicked faintly with every step; a sound too risky to let the boar hear. With a practiced motion, the warrior reached for his Adamantine whip, its cold metal hissing softly as he released the lock mid-run.

In a single, fluid movement, he lashed the whip upward, its tip coiling tightly around the highest branch of a nearby tree. He launched himself into the canopy with precision, landing lightly on a thick branch before leaping to the next.

From above, he had a clear view of the chase. The fox sprinted ahead, its movements graceful and deliberate. But something about its behaviour struck him as odd. Whenever it pulled too far ahead of the boar, it seemed to slow—not from exhaustion, but intentionally, as though it wanted the boar to keep pace.

The warrior narrowed his eyes, crouching low on the branch as he studied the fox. Its movements were deliberate, too deliberate.

“This thing has a death wish or something,” he muttered under his breath.

He pushed himself forward, leaping from branch to branch, aiming to gain enough distance to position himself ahead of the chase. If he could trap the boar from the front, it’d be over quickly. He weighed his options mid-air. His pocketknife was ready—perhaps he could entangle the beast in his whip and go in for the kill. Or, if he found something heavy enough, he could drop it from above and knock the creature out cold.

Below, the boar began to slow, its furious sprint faltering into an unsteady trot. The fox noticed immediately, its movements shifting as it circled back to face the towering beast. Squaring up to the creature, it snapped and snarled, baring sharp teeth that looked almost too bold for its small frame.

The boar roared in frustration, its tusks slashing the air as it charged again. The fox darted away at the last moment, narrowly dodging the deadly blow. But the beast wasn’t done—it pivoted sharply, its glowing red eyes burning with raw rage as it thundered after the fox once more.

The chase veered into a clearing, the ground overgrown with dense, tangled foliage. The forest seemed to hold its breath as the scene unfolded.

What happened next made the warrior nearly lose his footing.

The fox skidded to a halt in the middle of the clearing, its body twisting sharply as it turned to face the charging boar. For a heartbeat, the boy thought the creature had made a fatal mistake. But then its form began to ripple, the fur dissolving into smooth, sun-kissed skin, its lithe frame elongating and reshaping.

In one seamless motion, the fox was gone, replaced by a girl crouched low against the forest floor. Her short red hair gleamed in the sunlight, the same fiery hue as the fox’s pelt. Her legs braced in the foliage, one hand steadying herself as the other dug through the thick layer of leaves.

Before the boy could fully grasp what he was seeing, the girl pulled a bow and arrow from the undergrowth, her movements swift and practiced. She rose slightly, her intense gaze locked on the boar still barrelling toward her.

“What the—?!” The boy bit back his shout, forcing himself to stay silent as he steadied his balance on the treetop. His heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening against the rough bark as he watched the scene unfold below.

The boar thundered forward, its monstrous tusks gleaming, its red eyes blazing with fury. The girl stood her ground, her bow drawn, the arrow poised with unnerving precision.

She didn’t hesitate.

With a sharp twang of the bowstring, the arrow flew through the air, slicing cleanly through the chaos. A heartbeat later, it struck true, burying itself between the boar’s glowing eyes.

The beast let out a guttural cry, its momentum faltering as its massive body collapsed, skidding to a halt in the dirt.

The boy exhaled; a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He adjusted his stance, leaning slightly forward for a better view.

Impressive aim, he had to admit. Not to mention quick.

The red-haired girl paused to catch her breath, slinging her bow over her shoulder as a victorious grin spread across her face.

“Woo hoo!” she cried, her voice ringing through the clearing. “Told you I’d get it! Hope you doorknobs enjoy doing my chores for a week!”

From the nearby brambles, two boys emerged, both dressed in worn hunting gear. Their grumbling was loud enough to carry across the clearing, their annoyance at their obvious defeat plain on their faces.

“No fair! You cheated!” the younger of the two snapped, his cheeks flushed with frustration.

“Yeah, dad said you weren’t allowed to do that anymore!” the older boy added, his tone sharp with accusation.

Both boys had thick brunette hair matted to their foreheads with sweat, their hunting clothes marked with smudges of dirt and leaves from the forest. The girl, in contrast, rolled her eyes at their protests, the confidence in her stance making it clear she didn’t take their complaints seriously.

The warrior crouched lower on his perch, his sharp gaze narrowing as he studied the trio. Something about her didn’t sit right. Unlike the two boys, with their shared features and exasperated sibling bickering, the girl didn’t look anything like them.

Her striking red hair was a colour that belonged to the wild, not the village. Her movements were too fluid, too sharp, and there was an energy about her that he couldn’t place—something distinctly not human.

“You two are just sore losers,” the girl said with a smirk, her tone dripping with triumph. “Come on, help me with this thing.”

The boys grumbled under their breath but did as they were told. Each grabbed one of the monstrous boar’s legs, straining under its weight as they began dragging it toward the edge of the forest. The girl stood back, arms crossed, watching them with a smug sense of satisfaction.

She couldn’t have been older than seventeen or eighteen, Archie thought as he observed from his perch.

But how in the world had she done it? Shifting like that—no writhing, no hesitation, no grand display of magic. The transformation had been seamless, controlled. Even the most skilled sorcerers couldn’t alter their forms so cleanly, so effortlessly.

Unless…

His pulse quickened. Unless she’s like me, he thought, the idea clawing at the back of his mind.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Now you’re losing it, Archie.”

Still, his curiosity lingered. There was something about her, something he couldn’t shake. His eyes followed her as she walked a few steps behind her brothers, her confident posture and sharp gaze unnervingly familiar.

The moment was short-lived.

A loud crack jolted him back to reality. The branch beneath him shifted, threatening to give way entirely. Archie sucked in a sharp breath, swinging his weight behind the tree trunk to steady himself.

He froze.

Her head snapped toward him, hazel eyes narrowing as her sharp gaze cut through the canopy.

Archie shrank back, pressing himself tightly against the trunk, his heart pounding in his ears. He held his breath, willing himself to blend into the shadows. Her piercing stare swept the trees, her body tensing as though ready to spring into action.

For a moment, he thought she might fire another arrow.

“Atlanta, hurry up already!” one of the boys called out in the distance, his voice cutting through the quiet of the forest.

The redhead rolled her eyes, her lips curving into an exasperated smile. “I’m coming!” she shouted back, her tone laced with mock annoyance.

Before turning to leave, she paused, her hazel eyes lingering on the tree where Archie hid. For a moment, it felt as though she saw right through the bark, her sharp gaze piercing into the shadows.

Archie held his breath, pressing his body even tighter against the ancient tree. When she finally turned away, he exhaled, the tension in his chest loosening.

She’s not someone you sneak past easily, he thought, shaking his head.

Still, the way she had transformed burned in his mind. The seamless shift, the lack of pain or effort. He couldn’t stop the questions swirling in his head. Who is she? What is she?

His stomach growled, pulling him back to reality. He groaned softly; the sound full of resignation.

“Great. Now I have to find something else to hunt in this damn forest,” he muttered, already scanning the undergrowth for signs of movement.

Chapter Text

The journey to Delphi was long and arduous, winding through misty mountain passes and sunlit valleys. Chiron had arranged for a bewitched carriage to escort Jay, Herry, Neil, and Odie down the mountain at first light. The Olympian eagle, however, had made itself a persistent nuisance, refusing to budge from its tight perch on Jay’s shoulder since their meeting in Chiron’s office.

Jay had tried to endure the bird’s presence with patience befitting a leader, but its razor-sharp talons seemed determined to puncture his composure—and his skin. If only the creature could learn some manners, he mused, perhaps he wouldn’t feel quite so tempted to shoo it away.

The carriage itself was a marvel of enchanted craftsmanship, its wheels never seeming to touch the ground as it glided effortlessly over rugged terrain. The trip should have taken no more than half a day, yet progress was painfully slow thanks to Neil. He insisted on stopping nearly a dozen times before Delphi even came into view over the shimmering horizon—each stop justified by his endless list of "necessities," from adjusting his hair to sampling roadside delicacies.

Jay sighed as the spires of Delphi finally appeared in the distance, golden in the midday light. The city clung to the mountainside like a jewel, its ancient walls whispering promises of wisdom and secrets hidden in the folds of time. Perhaps, he thought, they would find the answers they sought—or at the very least, a moment of peace from Neil’s complaints.

“Are we there yet?” Neil whined.

“You mean since the last time you asked? Thirty seconds ago?” Odie grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion from the journey.

Jay sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour—provided there aren’t any more stops...” He trailed off, throwing a pointed glare at Neil. The others followed suit.

“What?” Neil asked innocently, not even bothering to look up from his mirror. “I had to pee.”

“You made us stop six times before we even got off the first mountain!” Herry groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I have a small bladder!” Neil defended himself, holding his mirror up to inspect his reflection from another angle.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t drink your entire water supply in the first hour of the ride, you wouldn’t need to go so much!” Odie snapped, shifting the pile of scrolls he’d been using as a makeshift lap desk.

“And risk getting dry skin?” Neil gasped dramatically. “Pass.”

Oh, brother, Jay thought, leaning back into the cramped seat with a weary sigh. He tried to peer out the window, hoping for some sign that Delphi was getting closer, but the scenery offered no such relief.

The Olympian eagle, apparently unimpressed with the noise and jostling, clicked its beak sharply and snapped at Jay’s brow.

“OW!” Jay winced, jerking back as the bird settled on his shoulder once again, its talons pressing in as if to remind him who was in charge.

“Jeez, what’s his problem?” Neil muttered, glaring at the eagle as it ruffled its feathers indignantly.

Jay massaged his forehead, relieved it wasn’t his eye that got pecked this time. The sooner this carriage ride was over, the better.

“Hey, is it just me, or are we slowing down?” Herry’s voice broke the tension, and the boys froze. Delphi was still at least an hour away—this couldn’t be right.

Sure enough, the wheels of the enchanted carriage groaned and creaked, their pace slowing to an uneven crawl until they came to a complete, lazy stop.

For a moment, the boys exchanged silent, uneasy glances, until the carriage doors suddenly flung open on their own.

“You cannot be serious!” Neil scoffed, folding his arms. The doors, as if offended by his tone, wagged back and forth impatiently.

Jay didn’t wait for an explanation. He jumped out and began unloading their backpacks from the carriage. “Looks like we’re going on foot from here.”

Odie adjusted his glasses and squinted at the road ahead, his brow furrowing. “We’ll be lucky to reach Delphi before the Oracles close the temples for the day.”

“Oh, man…” Herry groaned, clutching his stomach. “I’m starving.”

“You just ate two sandwiches!” Neil snapped.

“I mean for a real meal!” Herry shot back indignantly.

Jay let out a long-suffering sigh as his companions bickered, but his attention snapped back when the eagle on his shoulder suddenly dug its talons in.
“OUCH!” Jay yelped, swatting at the bird.

Neil gave the eagle an unimpressed look. “Someone really ought to tell Zeus what a jerk his pet bird is.”

As if taking offence, the eagle flapped its wings, let out a sharp, piercing shriek, and launched itself into the air.

“Where’s it going now?” Herry wondered, watching the bird circle above them three times before gliding toward the distant silhouette of Delphi.

“I think it wants us to follow,” Odie said, quickly polishing his glasses with an old handkerchief.

Jay adjusted the straps on his backpack, his eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the journey pressing down on his shoulders.

“Come on, guys,” he said, setting off toward the road. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mist from the cascading waterfall drifted through the temple’s marble columns, each droplet catching the light like tiny fairies waltzing on the breeze. Beyond the temple’s open-air expanse, the surrounding mountain range stretched across the horizon in a faint periwinkle haze, their peaks streaked with veins of molten gold as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

The kaleidoscopic colors of the heavens only seemed to deepen the shadows of the Darke Forest below. Its dense, emerald canopy loomed ominously, the depths of the wood exuding an eerie stillness that made the edges of the forest feel like the threshold to another world.

Far beyond the forest’s borders, Mount Olympus rose in majestic defiance, its summit piercing the clouds. The storm that coiled around its peak churned and rumbled, restless and electric, as though the mountain itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

“My Lady?”

Theresa flinched at the soft interruption. It wasn’t the first time the temple staff had caught her staring out of her bedroom window, lost in thought.

“Forgive me, your Ladyship,” the young maid stammered, shuffling nervously in the arched doorway. “I didn’t mean to disturb... a vision.”

Theresa chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t a vision—just a regular daydream.”

She cast one last glance at the distant horizon before rising from her cushioned window seat. With a quick sweep of her hands, she smoothed the wrinkles from her nightgown, preparing herself for another long day.

“Are you… uh… nervous about today’s audience with the public, M’lady?” the maid ventured hesitantly, her gaze flickering to Theresa before dropping to the floor.

Theresa tried to offer a reassuring smile, though she knew it wouldn’t ease the girl’s discomfort. She’d grown accustomed to the wary looks from the staff, the careful distance they maintained, as though afraid she might suddenly blurt out a grim prophecy.

Afraid of the new Maiden Oracle, she thought bitterly. It’s not like I asked to wake up one day plagued by visions and have my entire life upended.

“I don’t think so,” Theresa said, forcing warmth into her voice. “I’ve been training every day since the last audience. I think I’ve finally learned how to focus the visions.”

The maid’s soft footsteps echoed faintly against the limestone walls, the sound swallowed by the lofty ceilings of the bedchamber. She approached the large oak trunk at the foot of Theresa’s canopy bed, its surface adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to shimmer faintly in the morning light.

“…But they still feel fuzzy on the details,” Theresa admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

The servant nodded politely, saying nothing as she lifted the heavy trunk’s ornate lid. With practiced care, she withdrew the ceremonial garments, laying them neatly across the silken sheets.

Theresa’s gaze fell on the robes, her expression caught somewhere between resignation and dread. She stared at the stiff, scratchy fabric as though she could will it to vanish. For a fleeting moment, she even closed her eyes, hoping for a vision of someone bursting through the doors, snatching the cursed robes, and tossing them over the balcony to be claimed by the roaring waterfall below.

When no such vision appeared, she sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. With great reluctance, she began to change out of her nightgown, already bracing herself for the discomfort ahead.

The scratchy fabric clawed at Theresa’s neck, making her wince as the maid fastened the buttons running down her spine. She tilted her head back, searching for distraction in the painted mural of the Olympians that adorned the ceiling above. Her eyes traced each figure, naming the Gods one by one.

There was Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War, clad in gleaming armor with an owl perched regally on her shoulder. Beside her stood Hera, Queen of the Gods, clutching a peacock feather in one hand and wearing an expression so stern it reminded Theresa of her old history tutor back home.

Ironically, it was that very same tutor who had first introduced Theresa to the history of the Oracles. ‘Believed to be portals through which the Gods speak directly to the people,’ her teacher’s voice echoed in her mind.

Theresa’s gaze drifted as the memory unfolded. The Oracles, she’d learned, were three extraordinary women embodying the divine cycles of life: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Each represented a stage of existence and wielded unique powers bestowed upon them by the Gods.

The Maiden Oracle, discovered in her youth, was blessed with the gift of future-sight—a glimpse into what was yet to come. The Mother Oracle, embodying maturity, honed the gifts she had mastered in her youth to navigate the present. It was said that the Mother Oracle’s divine eye could pierce through deception, discern truths, and even read the thoughts of others.

Then there was the Crone Oracle, the embodiment of ancient wisdom. She alone carried the weight of all three generations, her vision extending deeply into the past, present, and future. The Crone was revered as the most powerful of the trio, often summoned to the High-Elven Palace for counsel with the royal family. Theresa had only met her a handful of times, outside of official duties, but the woman’s presence had always left an impression.

The Oracles’ fates were as fixed as the stars. When the Crone’s journey to the afterlife began, the Mother Oracle would step into her place, and a new Maiden Oracle’s power would awaken. The cycle was unbroken, eternal, and inescapable.

Theresa’s thoughts lingered on the mural a moment longer before she sighed, the heavy weight of her own role pressing down like the fabric at her throat.

“Three generations bound to a divine cycle,” her tutor had often said.

Such was Theresa’s fate: to live her life as a vessel for the fates, a portal through which their messages passed. She knew she should feel honored, as her father frequently reminded her in his letters, to have been thrust into such a prestigious role. But no matter how hard she tried, Theresa couldn’t help mourning the life she’d left behind.

Before her powers had awakened, she had been at the top of her class in the High Elven City, a prodigy not just in academics but in hand-to-hand combat as well. Theresa and her father had been honored members of the Palace court, a family of distinction with seemingly endless opportunities awaiting them. The future had been a world of open doors—until the day her gift emerged and every path she’d envisioned for herself was abruptly sealed.

Now, as she donned the ceremonial robes for what felt like the hundredth time, she couldn’t help but recall her first day at the temple all those weeks ago. The other Oracle-women had greeted her warmly, assuring her that her newfound gift of foresight was a ticket to adventure, to a life spent serving and bettering the kingdom.

But it hadn’t taken long for the shine of their promises to dull. “Adventure,” as it turned out, was little more than a grueling schedule of psychic training, an endless string of tedious ceremonies, and dreary public audiences.

Theresa adjusted the scratchy fabric around her neck, her fingers brushing the stiff embroidery as she sighed. The life she had imagined for herself seemed farther away with every passing day.

The maid gingerly lifted the final piece of the ceremonial garment, holding it high above the floor to avoid the embroidered hem catching on anything. Theresa slipped her slender arms through its long, billowing sleeves, the fabric settling heavily over her shoulders.

As the maid fussed with the tangled knots along the back of the gown, Theresa’s gaze wandered to the adjacent mirror. She studied the girl’s reflection—a face younger than she’d expected, no older than sixteen, with wide eyes that darted nervously between the knots and the floor.

In her first few weeks at the temple, Theresa had been attended by a stern, older maid who prattled endlessly about temple etiquette and the Oracles’ illustrious history of serving the kingdom. Though her lectures were often tiresome, the woman’s confident presence had been oddly grounding, a small anchor in the sea of change that had swallowed Theresa’s life.

But now the older maid was gone, her absence as abrupt as it was unexplained. She had been replaced by this quiet, timid girl who barely spoke a word or dared to meet Theresa’s gaze.

Theresa had tried to bridge the gap with small talk and smiles, hoping to ease the girl’s obvious discomfort, but the stiff silences that followed each attempt only deepened the growing pit of loneliness in her chest. Instead of feeling reassured, the girl’s nervousness only made Theresa feel more out of place, more like the strange and isolated figure everyone seemed to see when they looked at her.

“So… you started working here a few days ago, right?” Theresa ventured, summoning as much warmth into her voice as she could muster. “I feel a little embarrassed to say this, but I don’t think I caught your name?”

The maid paused, her hands hesitating over the knot she was tying. For a moment, she met Theresa’s gaze in the mirror before lowering her eyes again.

“Nia,” she replied softly. “I used to work in the laundry, but I got moved up here...”

Theresa sucked in a sharp breath as Nia tightened the crisp, white ceremonial robes around her waist, the fabric cinching uncomfortably.

“Have you always lived in Delphi?” Theresa asked, attempting to keep the conversation alive.

“No, M’lady. My family sent me here to work.”

Theresa offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “Huh. Mine too,” she joked, but the silence that followed felt heavier than the robes she wore.

“You must miss them,” she tried again, softening her tone. “Where is home for you?”

Nia hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric’s hem. “My home was a village called Messis,” she said at last, “but my family is in Aegis now.”
Theresa perked up slightly. She recognized the name from her studies—Aegis, a thriving hub for merchants and travelers, its central location making it a bustling crossroads for the kingdom. “I’m surprised you had to travel so far to find work, coming from a big place like that,” Theresa mused aloud.

Nia glanced at her, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Theresa wondered if she had said something wrong.

“The town’s very different these days,” Nia said at last, her voice quiet. “It never fully recovered after the Titan War... Now the forest has started taking over some parts of it, most people are trying to get out.”

Theresa frowned, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean the forest is ‘taking over’?”

Nia’s hands froze mid-tie, her face paling as though she had said too much.

“The… the Darke Forest, my lady,” Nia said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. “It grows and changes more each day, taking over anything close to it...”

Theresa tugged at the scratchy collar of her robe, frowning. “But I thought that was just an old wives’ tale to stop people from going in there.”

Nia shook her head. “My uncle showed up on my mother’s doorstep six months ago, claiming his farm had been swallowed by the woods. We didn’t believe him at first… until—” Her voice faltered, her gaze dropping.

Theresa opened her mouth to prompt her further when a sudden, icy sensation prickled between her brows. The air around her seemed to freeze, and her body went rigid.

Then it struck—a flash of blinding, violet light that consumed her vision. The room, Nia, and even the scratchy robes vanished as a numbing void engulfed her senses.

For a moment, there was nothing but suffocating darkness. Then, slowly, shadowy shapes began to emerge from the purple haze.

A village square came into focus, bustling with market stalls advertising fresh produce. “Messis farmed,” read a sign hanging over a stall of bright, fragrant fruit. But cracks suddenly split the cobblestone streets, and thorned vines burst violently from the ground.

The peaceful square erupted into chaos. The vines twisted and coiled, tearing through buildings and enveloping entire homes. Trees, grotesque and unnatural, shot up at a horrifying speed, their roots splitting shopfronts as if they were paper. Villagers screamed, fleeing in every direction as monstrous shadows poured from the nearby forest.

Armoured giants, harpies, and creatures Theresa couldn’t name emerged; their breastplates marked with an unfamiliar emblem: two overlapping scythes beneath the letter “C.”

The vision shifted violently. Maroon eyes, glowing with malice, seared into Theresa’s mind. A man’s face began to form around them—weathered and scarred, with a crooked line carving from his cheekbone to the edge of his jaw. His smile twisted the scar into a crescent shape against his neatly trimmed beard.

He threw his head back, laughing triumphantly, the sound echoing in her mind. The laughter was cut short by a slashing flash of lilac light, and Theresa was yanked from the vision, her body lurching backward as she gasped for air.

In the mirror, she saw Nia stumble, rushing to catch her as she collapsed. The young maid’s mouth moved frantically, but the ringing in Theresa’s ears drowned out her words. All she could hear was the echo of that man’s chilling laugh, reverberating in her mind.

Finally, the sound began to fade, replaced by Nia’s panicked voice.

“C-Can you hear me, my lady? Are you alright—?”

Theresa grabbed the maid’s arms, her voice trembling. “Those things—they attacked your village!” she cried. “Th-those creatures!”

She struggled to articulate what she had seen, but the terror on Nia’s face told her everything. The maid knew exactly what she meant.

“H-how did you know that?” Nia stammered, taking a cautious step back as she helped Theresa to her feet. “How could you have seen that? I-I thought you only saw the future!”

Theresa massaged her temples, her thoughts spinning. Nia was right—how could she have seen into her memories? Only the Crone Oracle had the ability to see into the past, and only after a lifetime of training.

She pushed the question aside, focusing on what she’d seen. “But those eyes… the man with the scar. Who is he?”

Nia’s confused expression deepened. “What man? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, Gods, I knew I should’ve stayed in the laundry…”

“The symbol on the monsters’ armor,” Theresa pressed. “It has something to do with him. I think he’s connected to the forest somehow.” She shook her head, trying to make sense of the vision. “What happened to the rest of your home?”

A shadow crossed Nia’s face, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Gone…” she said, the word barely audible. “Most of us fled to Aegis after those creatures showed up.” She shuddered. “They say things like this happened when Cronus was rising to power last time. I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Theresa was stunned. “But wait—if this kind of destruction is wiping out entire towns, why hasn’t anyone told the Palace? Or the Oracles? We could help!”

Nia shuffled awkwardly, avoiding Theresa’s gaze. “The truth is… many have tried. But…”

“But what?” Theresa leaned forward, her apprehension growing.

“Well…” Nia hesitated. “My cousin made the journey to the Oracles to ask for help. But when the council found out what she was going to ask, they turned her away.”

Theresa’s jaw dropped. “What council?” For weeks, she’d lived at the Oracle’s temple, yet she’d never heard of any council.

“The council from the Palace,” Nia explained. “They screen all the questions from the public audience attendees. No one’s allowed to ask the Oracles a question unless the council approves it first… unless, of course, you have enough money to persuade them.”

Theresa blinked in disbelief. “Why would they turn her away? That’s a real issue!”

“They said she was spreading propaganda,” Nia replied slowly, her voice heavy with bitterness. “They didn’t want to risk it getting out to the public.”

Theresa’s mind went blank with outrage. She thought of all the hours she’d spent answering the most mundane, gossip-fueled questions in those tedious public audiences, while people with real, life-or-death problems were being turned away?

Her hands clenched into fists. “This is outrageous! We’re supposed to help everyone!” Theresa’s voice trembled with indignation, the heat of her anger rising to the surface.

She paced a few steps, her ceremonial robes rustling with each movement. “That’s it,” she declared, spinning back toward Nia, her eyes alight with determination. “I’m taking this up with the other Oracles!”

Nia let out a soft whimper of exasperation. “Please, my lady, we must get you to the ceremony—there’s nothing you can do! It’s the way things have always been!”

Theresa stopped mid-step, her mind racing. So, the Palace has been keeping the kingdom in the dark all this time…

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where dark clouds coiled ominously around the summit of Mount Olympus in the distance. “I can’t just keep pretending everything is fine while innocent people are getting hurt,” she murmured, stepping closer to the window.

The storm clouds seemed to writhe and shift, as though alive. Theresa could have sworn they’d grown thicker, heavier.

“Please, my lady,” Nia pleaded urgently, her voice almost cracking. “You’ll be late for the ceremony!”

But Theresa’s attention was elsewhere. “I wonder…” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “What if all of this is connected to that?” She nodded toward the mountain just as a jagged streak of lightning split the sky, illuminating the roiling storm clouds.

And then, it hit her.

The second vision erupted, dragging her into its grip.

Olympus loomed before her, shrouded in raging black storm clouds. Lightning tore violently across the sky, illuminating the chaos as thunder roared like a battle cry. A long, piercing shriek echoed over the mountains, and from the storm emerged a great golden eagle. It soared through the turbulent skies with fierce determination before diving toward the earth.

The eagle landed on a battlefield at the foot of Olympus, where seven figures stood in a defensive line. Their faces were obscured, but their armor gleamed with symbols of the Gods. The eagle perched on the shoulder of the group’s leader—a youthful figure, no older than Theresa.

The scene shifted. The battlefield dissolved, and the seven now faced the Darke Forest. The eagle screeched again, launching into the air and disappearing into the forest’s shadowy heart. At the edge of the forest, the trees began to twist and writhe unnaturally, their branches contorting into limbs. Faces emerged from bark, and towering giants replaced the ancient trees, each clad in armor bearing the ominous C-symbol from Theresa’s earlier vision.

The leader of the seven raised his sword, his posture resolute. With a cry, he led the charge, and the others followed, their weapons gleaming as they joined him in solidarity.

The vision began to splinter, images flashing too quickly for Theresa to fully comprehend. She saw fleeting glimpses of six unfamiliar faces, their features blurring as they flickered past. The leader’s face lingered, his eyes filled with kindness, determination, and an unshakable concern. Then, she saw herself—glowing eyes alight with power—standing as the seventh figure.

The flashes became more disjointed, a whirlwind of disconnected scenes: a full moon glowing ominously; a solstice festival in wild celebration; animals racing through the forest; a village engulfed in flames; grey eyes prowling the underbrush like a predator; soldiers rising from the soil, their armor etched with Olympian symbols; twin statues frozen in terror; a towering wolf, its eyes locked on Theresa, poised for the kill; the Darke Forest twisting into a nightmarish labyrinth.

The final image was unmistakable—the man with the scar. His smile twisted into a menacing scowl as he raised his twin scythes toward the seven figures. He lunged, his attack aimed at the leader, but the boy met the blow effortlessly with his sword. The others surged forward, their weapons raised to join the fight.

Theresa gasped awake, clutching the windowsill for support as pain throbbed through her temples. She had never experienced a vision so vivid, so powerful. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she steadied herself, her mind racing.

This was no ordinary vision. Something big was coming—something unspeakably evil.

Theresa turned toward Nia, who stood motionless by the mirror. The maid’s face was pale, her wide eyes glazed over as though she were on the verge of fainting.

“I should have stayed in the laundry,” she whimpered.

Chapter Text

The city of Delphi stretched out before the boys, a sprawling labyrinth of ancient stone and marble that glowed golden under the midday sun. The streets bustled with life, filled with the chatter of merchants peddling their wares, the melodies of musicians on every corner, and the mingling scents of spices and fresh bread from the market stalls. It was a city of contrasts—beautiful yet chaotic, vibrant yet overwhelming.

Jay, Herry, Neil, and Odie trudged through the throng, weary from their journey but determined to reach their destination. At last, the towering facade of the Temple of Delphi came into view, its majestic columns and intricate carvings rising above the din of the crowd. The temple’s grandeur loomed over them, a stark reminder of the importance of their mission—and a sharp contrast to the exhaustion written on their faces.

“Are we sure this is the right place?” Neil asked, his voice tinged with skepticism as his eyes flitted over the bustling scene outside the temple.

“Pretty sure,” Jay replied, shifting the weight of his backpack. “Chiron said the Oracles are—OW!”

Before he could finish, a blur of gold swooped down from above, colliding with his shoulder. Jay stumbled back, his yelp of surprise drowned out by the piercing screech of the golden eagle, which had returned to its perch on his shoulder with the elegance of a king reclaiming his throne.

The bird stared intently at the temple, its sharp gaze cutting through the crowd. Passers-by stopped in their tracks, their whispers growing louder as they pointed at the peculiar sight. A red stray cat, lingering near a market stall, hissed at the sudden commotion before darting into the crowd and disappearing.

Jay groaned, rubbing his sore shoulder. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. After enduring the eagle’s talons for hours during the carriage ride, his patience had long since worn thin.

“Uh, yep. Something tells me we’re at the right place,” Herry said with a chuckle, extending a hand to help Jay to his feet.

The boys joined the line snaking around the temple grounds, the slow shuffle of feet doing little to ease their growing fatigue. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, stretching shadows that only seemed to intensify their impatience.

“Jeez, you’d think the workplace of all-seeing Oracles would have more efficient customer service,” Neil grumbled, crossing his arms as they inched closer to the temple’s grand entrance.

“Watch what you say in there, Neil,” Odie warned, adjusting his glasses. “I spent last night reading up on these ceremonies. The people here take tradition seriously. One wrong move, and they’ll toss us out without a second thought.”

Herry scratched the back of his head, frowning. “So… uh, what’s the plan once we’re in there anyway?”

Jay froze. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Navigating their way to the temple had consumed all his focus. Now, standing so close to their goal, he had no idea what they’d actually say to the Oracles.

The golden eagle shifted restlessly on his shoulder, its talons digging in. “Easy,” Odie said, breaking the silence. “All we have to do is show them the eagle. I mean, come on—any idiot could see it’s a sign from the G—”

Before he could finish, the eagle let out an ear-splitting screech. Passers-by winced and covered their ears, muttering curses as the bird flapped its wings furiously.

Neil shot Jay an exasperated look. “What is his problem?” he shouted over the commotion.

“How should I know? OW!” Jay yelped as the eagle dug its claws deeper, its wings thrashing with impatience.

“I cannot wait until we can ditch this thing!” Neil snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.

As if understanding the insult, the eagle abruptly launched itself into the air, its golden feathers glinting in the fading sunlight. In a single swoop, it disappeared into the clouds, leaving the boys stunned.

“Neil!” Odie cried, spinning toward him. “What did you do?! You know the stuff you say always comes true!”

“That was not my fault!” Neil snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know the bird could understand me?”

Odie clenched his teeth, his fists tightening at his sides. It took everything in him not to snap back. Sensing the brewing tension, Herry quickly stepped between them, though his own frustration mirrored Odie’s.

“Never mind that now,” Herry said, his tone firm but calm. “We’ll just have to go in and explain what happened.”

Jay rubbed his temple, his brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe we won’t have to explain too much after all…”

The others turned to him, confused.

“One of the Oracles can see into the past, right?” Jay continued, his voice steadying. “If she can read our memories, she’ll see that we were sent by Chiron and the Gods. That should be enough.”

The group fell silent, mulling over the idea. It seemed… simple enough.

Odie adjusted his glasses, letting out a measured breath. “That might just work…” he admitted.

Jay’s gaze shifted to Neil, his expression sharp but not unkind. “Maybe it’s time to start using your gift in more productive ways,” he suggested.

Neil sighed dramatically, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. “Fine. Like getting us to an Oracle fast so I can finally get some rest.”

“And some dinner,” Herry added with feeling. “I’m starving.”

As the boys approached the temple’s entrance steps, a commotion from within caught their attention. A young woman, dressed in travel-worn clothes, was being roughly escorted out by two temple attendants.

“But you aren’t listening to me!” she pleaded, her voice echoing across the courtyard. “The Darke Forest is spreading. It’s attacking villages!”

Her desperate words were met with cold indifference. “As we told you last week,” one of the attendants replied brusquely, “and the week before that…”

“The Oracles will not be disturbed by such conspiracy and nonsense,” the other finished, his tone dismissive.

“Didn’t you hear me? People are getting hurt!” the woman insisted, her voice rising.

"You will leave at once," the attendants said, shooing her away. "Or next time, it will be the city guard escorting you out."

The young woman stood frozen for a moment, watching as the men disappeared back inside the temple. Her face was etched with frustration, her jaw clenched as she ran a hand through her short, fiery hair. Her hazel eyes scanned the crowd.

When her gaze locked with Jay’s, a flicker of mischief danced across her face. A sly smile curled at the corner of her lips, and before he could even blink, she spun on her heel and vanished into the bustling throng.

"What was that all about?" Herry asked, his attention lingering on the temple doorway.

"No idea," Jay replied, his voice low with curiosity. "But it seemed pretty serious."

As their turn finally came, the boys were ushered into a small antechamber preceding the grand hall of the temple. The room was dimly lit, its walls adorned with ancient carvings of Olympian symbols. A temple attendant greeted them—a middle-aged man with a lined face and sharp, scrutinizing eyes. He barely looked up from the scrolls in his hands.

"State your business, please," the man said, his voice clipped and impersonal.

The boys exchanged uneasy glances before Jay stepped forward, doing his best to sound confident. "We were sent by the centaur Chiron, and we need to speak to the Oracles. It's urgent."

The attendant raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanging. "Sent by Chiron, you say? And yet, I see no evidence of such a claim."

"It's important," Jay pressed, his tone firm but nervous. "We received an omen from the Gods and were sent here to consult with the Oracles."

"I see," the attendant replied dryly, adjusting his crooked glasses. "The Oracles do not grant audiences lightly. If what you say is indeed true, then perhaps you can describe this so-called 'omen'?"

The boys exchanged a series of panicked glances, each hoping someone else would come up with a convincing answer.

"Well…" Jay began hesitantly.

"A really big bird went through a window," Herry offered confidently, crossing his arms as though it explained everything.

The attendant chuckled softly. “Young man, if everyone sought the Oracles’ guidance over every animal encounter, we’d have a line stretching to Olympus…”

Odie shook his head, his eyes falling to the floor. He muttered a silent prayer to Hermes for safe passage, his thoughts racing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flicker of movement.

Adjusting his glasses, he caught sight of a blur of red fur sweeping behind the attendant.

A cat, he realised, enjoying the irony.

The feline paused as it reached the threshold of the grand hall, its lithe body poised like it sensed it had been noticed. Its large hazel eyes locked onto Odie’s with an almost human intensity, a silent challenge gleaming in their depths. It was as if the cat dared him to expose its covert mission.

Odie held its gaze, giving no indication of protest. Seemingly satisfied, the cat flicked its tail with quiet elegance before slipping past the threshold and vanishing into the shadows of the next room.

Jay pressed on, breaking the moment. “We may not have physical proof, but if we could just show the Oracles our memories, then—”

“I’m sorry, but the Crone Oracle is not attending today’s council,” the attendant interrupted, his voice clipped and final. “You’ll have to come back next week.”

Jay opened his mouth to argue, but the man raised a hand, silencing him before he could get a word out.

“Uh, excuse me!” Suddenly, Neil stepped forward, his usual swagger cutting through Jay’s uncertainty. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, his voice dripping with royal confidence. He held up his hand, flashing the signet ring on his pinkie finger. The royal emblem gleamed in the temple’s dim light. “I don’t think my father would appreciate hearing that his son was turned away from Delphi.”

The attendant’s face went as pale as parchment. “Y-your majesty—” he stammered, fumbling with his robes in a flurry of awkward movements. “My apologies, Your Highness! B-but the Oracles’ schedules are very strict. Perhaps we could arrange something for later this—”

Neil narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, the subtle gesture enough to silence the man mid-sentence.

“No, no—uh, yes, of course, Your Highness! Right this way…” the attendant sputtered, hastily correcting himself.

The boys stood frozen in stunned silence as the attendant bowed and gestured Neil toward the hall.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Herry whispered to Odie, his voice barely audible over the sound of Neil’s triumphant footsteps.

Jay peered inside expectantly. The Great Hall was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the late afternoon sun, the light streaming through high arched windows and casting long, dramatic shadows across the polished marble floor. The room was immense, every detail designed to overwhelm the senses: intricate mosaics depicting legendary battles and feats of the Gods adorned the walls, while towering statues of the Olympian deities loomed above, their gazes seeming to follow every movement.

At the far end of the hall, two women in flowing traditional robes sat on a raised dais, their serene yet imposing presence amplified by the empty seat between them. The boys hesitated as they approached, their footsteps echoing against the vast silence of the chamber.

With every step, the atmosphere grew heavier, the sheer scale of the hall—and the divine figures it honoured—magnifying their unease. What was meant to inspire reverence felt more like a silent judgment, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on them.

As the group drew closer, Jay’s attention was first drawn to the Mother Oracle. Her presence was formidable—sharp eyes scanning the group with a calculating gaze, as though she could see straight into their souls. There was an air of authority about her, an unspoken command of the present that made him instinctively stand straighter.

But it was the younger of the two who truly caught his attention—the Maiden Oracle, he assumed. She looked to be about his age, her strawberry blonde curls tumbling to her waist in soft waves that seemed to catch the golden light. Her white ceremonial robes gleamed with an almost ethereal quality, and for a moment, Jay wondered if she was glowing.

Girls rarely made him blush, but standing before her, something about her presence struck him with an intensity he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just her beauty—it was something deeper, an unspoken power that radiated from her. Awe and unease gripped him in equal measure, leaving his thoughts scattered and his tongue tied. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, drowning out whatever words he might have said.

Theresa sat beside the Mother Oracle, her gaze lingering on the horizon where the setting sunbathed the room in hues of gold and amber. Yet her thoughts were far from the present. Her mind danced through the fragments of her earlier visions, circling around something just out of reach.

There was a shadow in her thoughts, a presence she couldn’t define. She didn’t know what it was, only that it hadn’t yet come to pass—but it was drawing closer, like storm clouds gathering at the edge of a clear sky.

She appeared distant when Jay stepped forward, his shoulders squared though his voice wavered slightly. “We were sent by the centaur Chiron, on a mission from the Gods,” he said, striving for confidence. “We need the guidance of the Oracles.”

Theresa turned her head, meeting Jay’s eyes for the first time. The moment stretched, the air between them stilling.

She had spent hours sifting through the fragments of her vision—so vivid yet maddeningly indistinct. Faces, places, emotions had blurred together in a whirlwind of chaos. But through it all, one image had burned the brightest: the face of a boy.

The leader.

Him.

Now, as he stood before her in the Hall, that familiar tingling at the back of Theresa’s mind returned, stronger than ever. Her pulse quickened as her gaze swept across the boys’ faces. The sense of recognition, hazy at first, grew sharper with each passing second, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. She could feel it—something was about to happen.

The Mother Oracle’s piercing gaze locked onto Jay. She said nothing, but the weight of her scrutiny was almost unbearable. Jay swallowed hard, his shoulders stiffening as though bracing himself against an unseen force. It wasn’t just her presence—it was the way she seemed to peel back the layers of his thoughts, stripping away pretense.

And she was.

Her divine gift, the ability to see the truth of the present, allowed her to delve into the thoughts and intentions of those before her. Jay could feel it, as though his very essence was being laid bare under her gaze.

For a moment, the room fell deathly silent. The faint rustling of robes and the distant hum of the temple faded into nothing as the Mother Oracle’s eyes narrowed, assessing them with unnerving precision.

Finally, she spoke, her voice calm but filled with quiet authority. “You speak the truth, young man. But truth alone is not enough.”

Theresa glanced between Jay and the Mother Oracle, her heart thudding in her chest. Her eyes lingered on Jay a moment longer, the tingling in her mind intensifying. This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

She had seen these boys before—along with others—in the fragments of her vision. She didn’t know all the details, but she knew. They were vital. They were meant to play a pivotal role in the events to come.

And she knew they needed help.

"The temple has no time for half-baked quests and wild goose chases," the Mother Oracle said firmly, her sharp gaze shifting between Jay and the others. "The Gods may have sent you, but their reasons are not clear. You will find no answers here today."

"Wait—" Theresa’s voice broke through the air, soft but urgent. All eyes turned to her, and for a moment, she hesitated. The weight of what she wanted to say pressed heavily on her chest. How could she explain what she felt, what she knew? How do you tell someone they’re the key to something far greater than they could imagine?

“They’re connected to something bigger,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “I saw them in a vision. We should listen to them—”

The Mother Oracle raised a hand, silencing her mid-sentence. “The present does not always align with what is to come, Theresa,” she said, her tone calm but unyielding. “Your visions, while powerful, are still unmastered—uncertain. The future you see may shift with the slightest change. Your sight is not yet reliable enough to interpret the Gods’ will without question.”

Theresa’s heart sank at the words, but she held her ground, her fingers curling tightly around the edges of her robes.

Jay opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the Mother Oracle raised her hand again, her dismissal final. “Go,” she said, her voice ringing with authority. “Return when your purpose is clearer.”

The attendant who had led them in appeared at their side, poised to escort them out. Jay clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath his calm exterior. He knew arguing would get them nowhere, but the dismissal stung.

Herry, less inclined to stay silent, stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. “Hang on a second—”

His words were cut off by a sudden commotion.

A blur of red streaked across the room. The small cat that had slipped into the temple earlier darted from behind a statue of Artemis, sprinting toward the dais with startling speed. As it neared the Oracles, its body began to change—elongating, twisting, reshaping itself.

By the time it reached the base of the dais, the cat was gone, replaced by the figure of a young woman. Jay’s eyes widened in recognition. It was the girl from outside.

She shook out her short, fiery hair, glaring fiercely at the temple attendant.

“You!” the attendant sputtered; his voice sharp with outrage.

The young woman ignored him, her attention fixed on the Oracles. Jay instinctively stepped back as she strode forward, her movements confident, her gaze unwavering.

“Your Grace,” she began, her voice ringing through the Great Hall. “Our people need help. The Darke Forest is spreading.”

Her words echoed against the marble walls, heavy with urgency. “Every day, entire villages are being wiped off the map. People are getting hurt.”

She glanced between the two Oracles, her eyes blazing with determination. The Mother Oracle’s expression remained inscrutable, her silence adding weight to the moment. The Maiden Oracle, by contrast, sat frozen in shock, her wide eyes fixed on the girl.

“If we don’t act now,” the girl continued, her voice rising, “it’s going to consume everything in its path. We need to defend ourselves. Warn the surrounding villages. Do something!”

The Mother Oracle’s eyes narrowed at the girl’s entrance, her voice calm but cutting. “What is your name, child?”

“Atlanta,” the girl replied, her tone steady despite the tension in the room.

The Mother Oracle pressed on, her gaze unrelenting. “Do not think your intentions to deceive my staff has gone unnoticed, Atlanta. Deception lingers on one’s aura like a foul stench,” she said, her words as sharp and cold as ice. “The temple is very strict about the matters brought before us. Many citizens come with many grievances, but storming in with wild tales will not grant you an audience here.”

Atlanta bristled at the accusation, her hands clenching tightly at her sides. “They aren’t tales!” she shot back; her voice heated but unwavering. “I’ve seen it myself. Villages swallowed whole by the darkness…”

Her gaze shifted between the two Oracles before locking onto Theresa’s. “And I’m not the only one who’s seen it.”

Theresa’s breath caught in her throat. Her gaze sharpened as she looked at Atlanta—really looked at her. That fiery red hair, the fierce determination in her stance—it stirred something deep within her psyche.

There it was again, that flicker of recognition. The fragments of her earlier vision came rushing back, hazy but vivid enough to set her pulse racing. She had seen this girl—seen her fiery presence in the chaos of her vision, standing alongside faces and moments that had yet to fully form.

Jay felt a strange connection to Atlanta as she spoke, her words echoing the warnings he’d received from Chiron. There was something about her presence—fierce, unrelenting—that struck a chord deep within him. He stepped forward instinctively, but before he could speak, the Mother Oracle rose from her seat, her expression severe.

“That is enough,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Guards, escort this girl out. Theresa and I will not be disturbed by such nonsense.”

Two temple guards stepped forward; their footsteps heavy against the marble floor. Atlanta stiffened, her eyes darting between the approaching guards and the Oracles, her frustration barely contained.

“Wait,” Theresa interjected, rising from her seat as well. Her voice was hesitant but clear, her brow furrowed in concern. “We have to listen to her.”

The Mother Oracle turned to her, her sharp gaze narrowing. “Excuse me?” she said coldly. “Theresa, this is not a matter for debate. The Darke Forest is a known threat, but it has been contained before. There is no need for unnecessary alarm.”

Atlanta’s eyes flashed with frustration, her fists clenching at her sides. “You don’t understand!” she said, her voice rising. “It’s different this time. It’s… it’s alive, like it’s feeding on something. And it’s growing stronger.”

Theresa’s heart pounded in her chest. The urgency in Atlanta’s eyes was undeniable, and the tension in the air pressed against her like a tangible force. She stepped forward, hesitating only for a moment before placing a hand on the Mother Oracle’s arm.

“Please, listen to her,” Theresa said, her voice trembling slightly but carrying an undercurrent of quiet conviction. “I’ve… I’ve seen something too. Something that connects to this. To them.” She swallowed hard, her gaze unwavering. “She’s right. We can’t ignore this.”

The Mother Oracle’s sharp eyes studied Theresa for a long moment, her expression unreadable. The room seemed to hold its breath. Even she, with her unshakable presence, could sense the disturbance lingering in the air. But her role was to remain steady, a beacon of logic in the face of uncertainty.

“Very well,” the Mother Oracle finally said, her tone measured but firm. “But, Atlanta, we cannot act on panic alone. We will seek guidance from the Crone Oracle before deciding our next move.”

Atlanta clenched her fists at her sides, frustration flickering across her face, but she nodded reluctantly. It was far from the answer she wanted, but she understood it was the best she would get for now. Theresa caught her eye, tilting her head ever so slightly in a gesture of reassurance. She held Atlanta’s gaze, her expression calm yet determined, the unspoken promise of solidarity lingering between them.
As the guards began to usher them away, Jay’s steps faltered. Something pulled at him, and he turned his head, glancing back over his shoulder.

There she was.

Theresa stood rooted in place, her robes catching the faintest breeze. Her eyes lifted, meeting his across the vast hall. In that moment, the noise and movement around them faded into silence. Jay’s chest tightened, though he wasn’t sure why.

Her gaze held his, steady and searching. Neither spoke, but there was a pull—a thread stretched taut between them, unseen but unbreakable. For a heartbeat, time seemed to hold them there, suspended.

Then the moment passed. The guards urged Jay forward, and Theresa’s figure receded into the golden glow of the hall. Still, the weight of that glance lingered, like the whisper of a prophesy yet to be fulfilled.

Chapter Text

The air in Theresa’s chambers hung heavy and still, pressing down like an unseen weight. She had stormed out of the grand hall after a final heated exchange with the Mother Oracle, her frustration leading her back to the sanctuary of her room. Now, she sat curled on the cushioned ledge of her window, knees drawn to her chest, as the day’s events relentlessly circled her mind like an unending storm.

Her fingertips traced the edge of the window, the cool surface a small tether to the present as her mind drifted. The Mother Oracle’s words voice echoed sharply in her memory, cutting and resolute: “Your sight is not yet reliable enough to be trusted with the Gods’ will without question.”

A frown deepened across Theresa’s face, and a tightness built in her chest, spreading like wildfire through her veins. She hadn’t asked for this - any of it. This gift, this responsibility; it was all thrust upon her without consent. But today’s visions felt different; fragments of a future, though its meaning unclear, its importance undeniable.

The ceremonial robes she’d shed earlier lay in a crumpled pile on the floor, their stiff fabric mocking her. Even without them, the room felt stifling, the air too thick to breath. She pushed herself up from the window seat and began to pace, her steps quick and restless.

In one swift motion, she flung open the balcony doors, the hinges creaking in protest. The cool air wrapped around her, filling her lungs and stealing away some of the heat from her frustration. She stepped out onto the stone balcony, her hands gripping the rail as she tilted her head back, letting the chill seep into her skin.

“I should have done more,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her thoughts drifted back to Atlanta, to the strangers sent by Chiron, and most vividly, to the boy who led them. His face lingered in her mind as if etched into her memory, clear and unshakeable. For the first time since her arrival at the temple, she had encountered people who truly needed the oracles’ help – people she might have been able to guide. And yet, she had failed them.

Her mind spiraled through all words she should have said, rehearsing arguments that might have swayed the Mother Oracle’s decision. She pictured herself standing firm, louder, more assertive – impossible for the Mother Oracle to dismiss. The scenes played out in her imagination like fragments of an unfinished script. Then her thoughts turned bolder, and she envisioned something else entirely: leaving the other Oracle on her dais and walking out with the strangers. A quiet thrill coursed through her at the thought, the kind of energy surge she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Why hadn’t she done it then? What had stopped her?

The question hung in the air, heavy but unanswered. And then, a new thought took shape, one that sent a spark of excitement through her chest: What’s stopping me now?

The Crone Oracle was always away on her so-called “important business.” Surely the temple could survive a few days without Theresa. And if the Mother Oracle was right – if the vision she’d seen didn’t come to pass – then what harm could it do?

Still, doubt coiled within her like a stubborn shadow, rooting her to the spot. She could already imagine the Mother Oracle’s reaction—stern disapproval, perhaps worse. Would she be punished for defying the temple’s structure? Would her absence be reported to the authorities—or, even more terrifying, to her father?

Her thoughts spiralled, one worry feeding the next. What if someone else needs help tomorrow, and I’m not here? What if I fail them by leaving? And even if she did leave, the streets would soon be cloaked in darkness. How could she possibly find the others in a sprawling city at night?

Theresa let out a heavy sigh, frustration tightening her chest. She hated feeling this helpless, this… torn. Her gaze wandered to the horizon, settling on Mount Olympus. The jagged peak loomed in the distance, its crown of dark clouds restless and foreboding.

“I need a sign,” she murmured aloud, her voice barely rising above the stillness. Her eyes lingered on the mountain as if it might respond, as if some unseen force could untangle the threads of her indecision. “What’s the right path?”

The air seemed to hold its breath. Then, as if the mountain had heard her plea, a bolt of lightning streaked through the clouds, illuminating the jagged edges of the peak. The distant crackle of thunder followed, low and rumbling like an ancient voice.

Theresa frowned, unsure whether to take the sight as reassurance or warning. She turned to retreat inside when a sudden flash of light and an ear-piercing screech sent her stumbling backward. For a brief, disoriented moment, she thought she’d been struck by lightning.

She opened her eyes, heart pounding, and froze.

Perched on the balcony railing, feathers gleaming in the faint moonlight, was a massive golden eagle. Its talons gripped the stone with restless energy, its sharp gaze locking onto hers with a piercing intensity.

Theresa’s breath caught as the bird’s eyes bore into her. She felt the familiar, icy pull of a vision surging forward, overtaking her senses before she could resist.

The world shifted. She saw the city streets, the vision weaving through alleyways and bustling squares like an invisible map. Navigating the shadowy streets until lingering on an old travellers’ inn marked by a gilded caduceus, before flashing abruptly to the leader of the boys from the temple, his face stark against the chaos. And then, just as quickly, the vision wrenched her back into herself, leaving her gasping for air.

The eagle hadn’t moved, its fierce eyes fixed on her, almost impatient.

She pushed herself to her feet, her mind racing. “I guess that answers that,” she said breathlessly, her voice shaky but laced with determination.

The eagle let out another piercing cry, wings spreading wide as it launched into the setting sun. Theresa shielded her ears, watching the bird’s golden form vanish into the clouds. Her hesitation dissolved, replaced by something sharp and certain.

It’s time to go.

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As the sun sank toward the horizon, the stone streets of Delphi became streaked with shadows. The boys moved in silence, the weight of the temple’s dismissal hanging heavily over them. Around them, the city was still bustling with life—merchants hastily packing down their wares, children darted through alleyways, and the hum of voices from a distant tavern carried on the wind—but it all seemed distant, muffled, like the world was just out of reach.

Jay walked ahead, his brow furrowed, his mind looping back to the hall. To her.

He hadn’t imagined that look—Theresa’s eyes meeting his like she’d seen him, truly seen him, in a way that made the rest of the world blur and fade. And Atlanta… her words echoed in his head, stark and urgent. The Darke Forest. Villages swallowed whole.

“What do we do now?” Herry asked finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile quiet.

Jay stopped, letting the question hang in the air as he glanced back at his friends. Neil was already fussing with his reflection in a shop window, trying to fix the windswept mess of his hair. Odie adjusted his glasses, his expression distant as though calculating something.

“We figure it out,” Jay said, his voice firm, though a flicker of doubt lingered in his chest. “Chiron didn’t send us all this way for nothing.”

He turned to lead them forward again, but the sound of quick footsteps caught his attention.

“Jeez, you guys didn’t put up much of a fight.”

They spun around to see Atlanta leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. Her red hair looked like fire in the light, and the same fierce determination from earlier burned in her hazel eyes.

“You again?” Neil groaned, still tugging at his collar. “Haven’t you caused enough drama for one day?”

Atlanta smirked, tilting her head just slightly. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you just throw a royal tantrum to get through the door?”

Neil froze, a hand shooting to his chest as though mortally wounded. “It wasn’t a tantrum,” he sputtered, his voice climbing an octave. “It was… strategic negotiation.”

Atlanta snorted. “Whatever you say, ‘Highness.”

Herry snorted, covering a hand over his mouth, while Odie coughed loudly to disguise a laugh. Shaking his head, Jay stepped between the two before Neil had a chance to respond.

“You’re Atlanta, right?” He asked, curiosity overcoming his caution. “I’m Jay. This is Herry, Odie, and Neil.”

Atlanta pushed off the wall, the soft glow of street lanterns flickered across the narrow lane, catching the sharp angles of her face. Her sharp hazel gaze flicked over each of them, quick and assessing.

“Were you really sent by Chiron?” She asked, her tone sharp with curiosity, though a hint of scepticism lingered beneath it. “As in the Chiron—the centaur who trained half the legends in history? Big guy with the hooves?”

Jay fingers curled slightly around the strap of his pack; the echo of Chiron’s warning to keep their mission under wraps flickered in his mind. “Yeah,” he said, his voice calm but measured. “That’s him.”

Atlanta studied him for a beat longer, like she was weighing more than just his words. “So, you guys must be Paladins, huh?”

Odie cleared his throat, stepping in as Neil opened his mouth to retort. “We’re not exactly official Paladins yet, this is really more of an extra-credit field trip sort of arrangement.”

A hint of disbelief flickered across her face before she shrugged, her voice warming. “Well, that explains why you look so out of place. I was starting to think you wandered in here by accident.”

Jay frowned, but before he could respond, Atlanta crossed her arms and stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over the group with sharp confidence. “Look, we all saw what happened back at the temple. That vision? Everything the Oracles said? None of that felt like a coincidence.”

“You think we’re all connected somehow?” Herry asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“You heard Theresa,” Atlanta replied. “Whatever’s happening it’s bigger than any one of us. You don’t just get sent by Chiron for a history lesson.”

Jay nodded slowly, her words striking a chord. “You’re saying we need to work together.”

Atlanta grinned, resting one hand on her hip, her confidence defying her smaller stature. “I’m saying we’ve already got one piece of the puzzle—whatever that vision was—and if what Theresa said is true then if we stick together, we’ve got a better chance of figuring out the rest.”

Neil groaned, adjusting his collar with a dramatic flourish. “Great, so now we’ve got a ‘team’ and no idea what we’re supposed to do. Where do we even start?”

The group exchanged hesitant glances, the weight of uncertainty settling between them. Jay exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. Frustration bubbled just beneath the surface, remnants of the temple’s rejection gnawing at him. Returning empty-handed felt like failing, and failing wasn’t an option—not when Chiron had trusted them with this mission.

“We could start with dinner?” Herry suggested, his voice breaking the uneasy silence.

Jay opened his mouth to respond, but the faint sound of hurried footsteps pulled his focus. The rhythm grew louder, closer. He turned instinctively just as a figure rounded the corner, moving briskly.

Their paths collided, and Jay stumbled back a step. The hooded figure paused, startled, but before an apology could form on his lips, Jay’s eyes locked onto the unmistakable cascade of strawberry-blonde curls spilling from beneath the hood. Recognition hit him like a bolt of lightning.

“Theresa?” Jay said, blinking in surprise.

The young oracle froze mid-step, her wide eyes flicking between Jay and the others. Her hands tightened around the edges of her cloak before she let out a small sigh of relief.

“You’re still here,” she said, her face flushed. “I wasn’t sure I’d find you.”

“We weren’t exactly given much direction,” Odie replied with a small shrug. “You look like you’ve been running.”

Theresa nodded, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting the Mother Oracle to appear at any moment. “I… I couldn’t stay. The vision—it’s too important to ignore. And…” She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Atlanta, then Jay and the rest. “I think I’m supposed to help you.”

Jay took a step forward, his brows furrowing. “Help us? I thought we had to wait for the other Oracles to help?”

Theresa’s lips pressed into a thin line, and shook her head. “I couldn’t just sit there and wait for someone else to figure it out.”

Atlanta let out a soft laugh, though it wasn’t mocking. “Guess that makes two of us.”

Theresa glanced at her, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “I don’t know everything yet, but we’re connected. All of us. Whatever’s happening, it’s pulling us together for a reason.”

Jay looked between the two women, then at his friends, each of their faces showing varying degrees of agreement. “Alright,” he said finally. “Then we stick together.”

Neil sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine, but can we do this sticking-together thing somewhere that’s not the middle of the street? My feet are killing me.”

Odie adjusted his glasses. “He’s got a point. We need somewhere to stay tonight, at least.” He turned to Theresa with a tired grin. “That big temple you live in wouldn’t happen to have a few extra beds, would it?”

Theresa’s fingers gripped the edge of her cloak, her gaze darting briefly over her shoulder before turning back to the group. “We should probably steer clear of the temple,” she said, her voice low and careful. “I didn’t exactly tell them I was leaving.”

“It’s a big city,” Herry offered with a shrug. “There’s got to be somewhere for us to stay.” He turned to Neil, who was absentmindedly picking at a cuticle, and nudged him playfully—though with a bit too much force. “What about Neil?”

“Ow!” Neil yelped, rubbing the arm Herry had shoved. “What about Neil?” He frowned, mildly offended.

“You’re the one with super-luck,” Odie added with a sly smile.

Atlanta and Theresa exchanged curious glances. “Super-luck?” Atlanta echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s right…” Jay chimed in with a grin. “Lead the way, Your Highness”.

Neil looked at each member of the group, clearly unimpressed. After a moment, he sighed. “Fine,” he grumbled, stretching his arms. “But whatever we find, I call the big room.”

They set off, trying several inns, only to find that each one was either fully booked or closing its doors for the night. Frustration mounted as they wandered through the increasingly deserted streets, the weak glow of lanterns flickering against the encroaching dark.

“This is hopeless,” Neil groaned, flopping onto a nearby bench with theatrical despair. “We’re going to sleep under the stars, and I’ll probably get wrinkles.

Before anyone could respond, a sharp cry echoed through the air. The golden eagle swooped down from above, circling them once before flying ahead, its golden feathers glowing faintly in the dark.

Neil groaned, slapping his forehead. “Not this guy again. I thought we got rid of him!”

“Is that thing following you?” Atlanta asked, watching the bird disappear down another street.

Jay frowned. “It’s been… guiding us, I think.”

Theresa gasped. “That’s the eagle. From my vision.”

“Your vision?” Jay asked, but she was already following the bird’s path with her eyes.

“We should follow it,” she said firmly.

“Because that’s not ominous at all,” Neil muttered.

“Come on,” Atlanta said, already moving. “If it’s leading us, we shouldn’t lose sight of it.”

The group hurried after the eagle, weaving through the city’s twisting streets. The bird led them through a labyrinth of alleys, the city growing quieter with each turn. Finally, they emerged into a small courtyard, the golden eagle perched on the sign of a modest-looking inn. A golden caduceus above the door shimmered faintly, twin snakes coiled around a staff.

Theresa gasped softly. “That’s it. That’s what I saw.”

Atlanta lingered back for a moment. “That’s weird,” She frowned. “I know this area like the back of my hand and there’s never been an inn here before.”

“Maybe it’s Neil’s luck?” Herry suggested,

“Hey, yeah! Maybe it IS Neil’s luck,” Neil perked up.

Jay studied the dark, shabby exterior. “That is pretty strange,” he admitted, tightening his grip on the strap of his pack as he stepped closer to the door. “But we don’t have much choice.”

Jay twisted the rusted handle, the door groaning under his grip before it gave way. As it swung open, a wave of warmth greeted them, golden light spilling out and bathing the group in a comforting glow. The inside of the inn was an unexpected contrast to its modest exterior—vaulted ceilings, intricately carved beams, and walls lined with shelves of curious trinkets that seemed to hum faintly with energy.

Behind the bar stood a tall, lean figure, his sharp grin matching the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, hands resting on the polished counter, surveying the group with the air of someone who had been expecting them all along.

“Welcome, travellers,” he said, his voice quick and melodic, like a songbird mid-flight. “To the Sleepy Gryphon.”

Chapter Text

The Sleepy Gryphon was alive with warmth, light and something intangible – like the air itself had been woven with threads of magic. Soft golden light spilled from sconces shaped like tiny gryphons, their wings outstretched as if mid-flight. The scent of spiced honey and fresh pine lingered in the air, and the faint sound of music – though no instrument could be seen – drifted lazily through the room. Mismatched tables and stools, scattered across the space, were polished to a gleam.

The innkeeper was in constant motion, his sharp grin never wavering as he darted around the bar. One moment he was pouring a deep amber drink into a goblet for a cyclops, the next he was tossing a set of gleaming dice to a cloaked figure seated in a corner booth. When he finally turned back to the group, his hands clapped together with such enthusiasm it sent Neil stumbling backwards into Herry.

“Well, you kids are a sight for sore eyes! I trust you found the place alright?” he chirped, his words spilling out so quickly they tumbled over one another. “Lucky for you, the kitchen is open late tonight—today’s special is I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-ambrosia baklava! Oh, but careful—it contains dairy.” The group exchanged baffled glances, but the innkeeper didn’t seem to notice—or care.

“Look at you all!” he continued, beaming with such energy that the tiny wings on his leather sandals fluttered, lifting him an inch or two off the floor. “A band of young travellers with that unmistakable spark! The spark of Adventure. Destiny. Chaos!” He clapped his hands together. “And a bit of exhaustion too, judging by those dark circles. Though I must admit…” His bright gaze darted over them, his brow lifting in mock surprise. “I was expecting a slightly bigger group.”

Jay stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes sweeping the warm glow of the room, from the flickering hearth to the platters of bread and cheese laid on each mismatched table. His gaze finally returned to the innkeeper, still hovering slightly off the ground. “We’re, uh… just looking for a place to stay.”

The man let out a laugh that filled the room like a gust of wind scattering leaves. “Well of course you are! You’ve stumbled upon the place to stay —it’s where the weary find rest and the lost find their way.” He leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “The Sleepy Gryphon doesn’t just pop up for anyone, you know. Only to travellers in true need - and you kids? You need it.”

Neil turned to Odie, making no real effort to lower his voice. “Who is this guy?”

The man straightened with a theatrical flourish, the sleeves of his simple tunic rippling as though caught in an invisible breeze. “Woops, how silly of me! I forget how much you mortals love your labels, don’t you? Call me Hermes. Innkeeper extraordinaire, messenger of the Gods, and patron saint of travellers, merchants, language and thieves.”

Theresa stepped forward; her brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait – you’re Hermes? Like, the Hermes?”

“As in one of the twelve Olympians?” Jay blinked, struggling to reconcile the cheerful figure before him with the legend from his mother’s stories. “The immortal God?”

“Guilty as charged!” Hermes declared, tossing them a wink as he spun on his heel. With a flourish, he grabbed a plate of steaming pastries from the bar and placed them on a nearby table.

“You’re telling me an Olympian God is waiting tables at a bar job?” Neil gawked, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Hermes grinned, entirely unbothered. “Well, it’s more of a side-hustle, really. Keeps me on my toes—and hey, it gets me out of the house.” He gave a carefree shrug before turning to the bar, where an elderly dwarf was patiently waiting. Without missing a beat, Hermes switched to a dialect so ancient it made Jay’s head spin, his words smooth and melodic as he chatted with the dwarf.

“Now,” Hermes called over his shoulder after sending the dwarf off with a tankard of something frothy, “you kids make yourselves comfortable. Sit, eat, drink! Rest those weary feet of yours.” He gestured broadly to the cosy inn, where the fire crackled invitingly, and the aroma of fresh food filled the air. “Then you can tell old Hermes what it is you’re chasing.”

The group hesitated for a moment, the weight of the day still clinging to their shoulders, but the allure of a warm fire and steaming food proved irresistible. They settled into a large wooden table near the hearth, where the golden glow of the flames softened the edges of their weariness.

Jay had barely relaxed into his seat when six tall mugs materialized on the table—whether through magic or Hermes’ uncanny speed, he couldn’t tell. Herry wasted no time, reaching for one. His large hand wrapped around the mug as if it were no larger than a child’s cup.

He eyed the liquid, swirling it gently before raising it to his lips. A grin spread across his face as he lowered the mug. “It tastes like Granny’s cider back home - homemade just right.” Without hesitation, he drained it in two hearty gulps, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Neil raised an eyebrow and cautiously reached for his own mug, tilting it slightly to examine the faintly shimmering liquid. He took a delicate sip, his posture instantly relaxing as he leaned back into his chair with a contented sigh. “I don’t know what you’re drinking,” he said, casting Herry a sideways glance, “but this is definitely the best lilac wine I’ve ever tasted.”

Atlanta raised her own mug, sniffing the liquid before taking a long sip. A smile tugged at her lips as she set it down with both hands. “Spiced mead,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of nostalgia.

Odie, ever the observer, studied the hazy gold liquid in his own mug, his brow furrowing slightly. He tilted the mug just enough to catch Jay’s reflection in the surface, the firelight dancing in the liquid like tiny sparks. Jay met his gaze, waiting for Odie’s verdict.

“It looks like nectar to me,” Odie finally said, his tone fascinated.

Jay blinked. “Nectar? As in the stuff from Olympus?”

Odie nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of the mug. “It’s supposed to have healing properties—good for the body and mind. They say it tastes different to everyone, depending on what feels most comforting or familiar.”

“That explains it,” Neil said, lifting his mug in mock toast. “Comfort and class, as always.”

Jay finally picked up his own mug, hesitating for only a moment before taking a cautious sip. The taste hit him immediately, warm and rich, like the honeyed teas Chiron used to serve on the colder mornings of training. It settled in his chest like a small, glowing ember, soothing the tension he hadn’t realized he was holding.

As he placed the mug back on the table, the warmth still lingering in his chest, Jay glanced around at the group; their faces now softened by the glow of the hearth and the soothing effects of their drinks. He leaned back in his chair, letting the warm glow of the inn wash over him. The fire crackled softly, shadows dancing across the walls, and the low hum of distant chatter filled the air. He reached for his drink once more, savouring the fleeting moment of ease, when the soft creak of the door broke through the atmosphere.

A gust of cool night air curled through the inn as a lone figure stepped through. A sly, knowing grin stretched across Hermes face at the sight of the newcomer. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite stray!” He called out from behind the bar.

Archie rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His violet hair was damp with sweat and his dark cloak dusted with dirt from the road. “Cute,” he muttered, kicking a bit of mud from his boot before heading straight to the bar. “Really missed your comedy hour, Hermes.”

Hermes grinned from across the bench, “You missed more than that. We had a lamb Moussaka two days ago that would make a hydra purr. You’d have loved it.”

Archie slid onto the barstool; his shoulders heavy beneath his weather-worn cloak. “Yeah, well, I could’ve used a hot meal and a soft bed three days ago.”

Hermes chuckled, sliding a mug across the counter with practiced ease. “Sorry, kid, you know how it works. For times in need, not convenience.” He gave Archie a sideways glance. “And judging by those dark circles, I’d say your timing’s right on schedule.”

Archie accepted the drink with a grunt of thanks. “Been a long week. Forest’s acting weirder than usual. Got chased out of a foothill by something that wasn’t quite a chimera, but not not a chimera either. Haven’t been able to line up another job since.”

Hermes raised a brow, “It’s not like you to be short of work.”

“Yeah, well all my customers keep skipping town. Supplies are getting harder to come by.”

Hermes gave a quiet nod, his gaze drifting over the bar. “Speaking of which…” He ducked beneath the counter and reappeared with a small, dark vial. “Last one I’ve got in stock.”

Archie’s posture stiffened. “You’re kidding.”

“You’ve got to keep better track of your potion schedule, Archie. This place won’t always be here to bail you out.” Said Hermes, his voice dipping into something gentler than usual.

Archie reached for the vial, cradling it carefully. “No one in the lower cities is selling. Everyone’s keeping tight reserves. I can’t seem to source the stuff without getting unwanted attention these days.”

Hermes didn’t answer. He watched reverently as Archie slipped the potion carefully into his bag.

“Ration it,” Hermes said after a moment. “You’re good for another month if you pace it.”

“Assuming there are no unexpected changes.” Archie’s jaw tensed. “Again.”

Hermes eyes softened, but he didn’t press. He gave Archie’s shoulder a light pat before moving to take someone else’s order. “Eat something. Baklava’s good tonight. You look like you’ve been to Hades and back.”

“Appreciate it,” Archie muttered, carefully hanging his pack to the side of his chair as his gaze drifted toward the firelit group gathered across the room. The low murmur of conversation brushed against his sharpened senses—another unwelcome side effect of the full moon drawing closer. He didn’t know them. Not yet. But his attention snagged on the flame-haired girl; a ghost of recognition stirring somewhere deep, too faint to name but too sharp to ignore.

Hermes, catching the glance as he passed, didn’t say a word. But his grin curved just slightly sharper.

“Destiny’s funny like that,” he said to no one in particular. “Always seems to come in at closing time.”

Atlanta leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “So,” she said, her voice steady but inviting. “We’ve got some guys sent by a centaur on a mystery mission, a runaway Oracle, a prince, and me. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

Theresa offered a faint smile, her hands cradling the warmth of her mug. “Or maybe the start of something much bigger. The vision I had this morning... it wasn’t like the others. I saw all of us—together—standing against something.”

Atlanta leaned forward, “You mean like the forest?”

Neil threw his hands up dramatically. “Alright, that’s it!” he burst out, exasperation thick in his voice. “Ever since we met you guys it’s been all ‘vision’ this and ‘forest’ that—I’m completely lost here! Can we please, for the love of Zeus, just go around the table and explain how in Olympus we all ended up here?”

“Neil—” Jay started, a warning edge to his voice.

But Herry scratched the back of his head, his expression sheepish. “Actually… he’s got a point. I’m pretty lost too.”

Jay sighed, leaning back in his chair. His fingers drummed lightly against the mug in front of him, his gaze shifting to the others. If Theresa was right, and they were tied together by fate, then they needed to start being honest with one another. Even if it meant bending Chiron’s warnings a little.

“Alright,” Jay said at last, his voice steady. “If we’re stuck in this together, we may as well get everything out in the open.”

Neil volunteered to begin, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug that didn’t quite match the flicker of tension in his expression as he retold the story of the Gods’ gifting him divine luck. “It all sounds great until you realize it comes with a lifetime of pressure. My parents didn’t waste a second putting it to use. Every day, it was ‘Manifest this, pray for that, perform this ritual.’” He waved a hand dismissively. “Normal kid stuff, right?”

Theresa’s gaze lingered on Neil, her expression softening as a flicker of understanding passed through her—she knew too well the weight of being bound to a purpose not entirely her own.

“Everything was always about serving the Gods, the Palace, or the country,” Neil said, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to brush away the memory. “I just wanted one day to be about me.” His voice softened as he recounted the ritual his parents had demanded, how he had refused, and the fury that followed. The memory grew heavier as he described his impulsive wish—the moment it all went wrong—and the sight of his parents, frozen in stone, etched into his mind.

“I tried everything to fix it, but nothing worked,” Neil said, his voice taut as he recounted how the palace ordered him to become a Paladin, take the oath, and break the curse before the next solstice—or face charges of treason. “But the whole Paladin thing wasn’t exactly my style, so Chiron figured I should talk to the Oracles to get some answers.”

“Don’t forget the bird,” Herry chimed in, reaching for his third slice of bread and cheese—a plate that, much like the mugs of nectar, seemed to appear without warning.

“Wait,” Theresa frowned, leaning forward. “Neil, if that’s what brought you here, why didn’t you say anything when you saw us at the temple?”

Neil straightened in his chair. “Well, maybe I would’ve - if we hadn’t been so rudely INTERRUPTED and KICKED OUT!” He snapped, shooting a pointed look at Atlanta.

Atlanta sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry for cutting your turn short.” Her tone softened as she met his eyes, sincere despite his glare. “If I’d known what you were there for, I would’ve done things differently - but I had my reasons, I promise.”

She set her mug down, fingers still curled around it, as if holding onto the warmth helped her steady the words forming on her tongue. “The forest wasn’t always like this,” she said, her voice low. “It used to be alive in a different way. Wild, sure, but… balanced.”

The firelight caught the edge of her features, the shadows shifting as she spoke. “My family’s lived near its borders for generations - we’re hunters. We knew the old paths and the rhythms of the land. We respected it. And it respected us back.”

A crease formed between her brows. “But something’s changed. It feels sick. Like it’s… infected with something.” Her voice thinned, “Monsters are showing up where there used to be deer. Creatures are twisting into things they shouldn’t be. Entire villages are being swallowed up overnight. Even the trees feel wrong.” She shook her head once, sharply, like she could shake off the memory. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch it spread. So, I came to Delphi. Thought someone might listen.” Her mouth curled into a humourless smile. “Instead, they accused me of spreading propaganda and sent me packing... well, you know the rest.”

Neil squinted at her from across the table, waving his mug a little too enthusiastically. “So… do the rest of your family turn into cats too or is that just, like, a party trick you do?”

Atlanta stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “No. Just me.” She shrugged, “They’re all normal.”

“I have to know where you trained in sorcery,” Theresa said, leaning forward. “I’ve never seen such a smooth transfiguration spell.”

“Spell?” Atlanta blinked, “there’s no sorcery to it. It’s just… something I’ve always been able to do.”

“Wait, so you born with it?” Herry asked, a crease forming between his brows.

“Does that mean your mom had babies or kittens?” Neil added with a grin—right before Herry’s elbow caught him squarely in the ribs.

“Neil!” Jay hissed.

“What?” Neil spluttered, “It’s a valid question!”

Atlanta rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “I wouldn’t know. My parents found me alone in the forest when I was a baby - didn’t catch the details.”

Herry leaned in again. “Can you turn into other stuff too?”

“Just animals I’m familiar with - cats, birds, foxes,” Atlanta replied, ticking them off on her fingers. “I’ve been practicing a deer, but… it takes a lot of time and energy to learn new forms.”

Across the room, Archie nursed his drink, half-listening, half-pretending not to.
At the mention of foxes, something stirred at the edge of his memory—a flicker of red fur, a shape blurring into a girl under the cover of trees. His fingers tightened slightly around his mug. He hadn’t imagined it that day in the forest after all.

He shifted his weight, angling his chair just enough to hear better, while keeping his head down.

At the table, Odie sat up straighter, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as something clicked. “Wait. So, you can do all that – no magic –just you?” His voice lowered, cautious but curious. “Does that mean you’re… a shifter?”

Jay felt a thread of recognition tug at him – an old lesson from Chiron’s lectures, something about a shapeshifting species that were hunted for what ran through their veins. He said nothing, but he felt an old sadness wash over him.

As Atlanta nodded, Odie’s brows lifted, the wheels in his mind visibly turning. “But I thought they were all gone,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Wiped out during the Titan War.”

Atlanta’s gaze sharpened in a flash, the air around her snapping tight.

“You don’t know that for sure,” she said - too quickly, too sharply. “It’s not like there’s a registry.”

Odie leaned back, hands in surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just… I never thought I’d actually meet one- uh, I mean, someone like you.”

“Does that mean there are more of your kind out there?” Jay asked before Odie could dig the whole any deeper.

Atlanta hesitated, glancing away.

“Yes. Well… no. I mean, maybe…” Her voice faltered, then firmed with a stubborn edge. She looked at them, her eyes bright and defiant. “Look, just because I haven’t met another doesn’t mean I am the only one.”

Atlanta dragged in a breath, reeling herself back from the defensive edge. She leaned her elbows onto the table, voice rougher but steady.

"But that's not important right now," she said, cutting through the lingering tension. "I went to the Oracles because the forest is sick. I don't know how to fix it, but if someone doesn't..." She shook her head, not needing to finish.

The table fell silent, the fire crackling in the hearth filling the space she left behind.

"I know," Theresa murmured, her fingers tightening around her mug. “I saw it too.” Her words wove through the heavy air, and as the others leaned in, she quietly recounted what had driven her here—the visions of a spreading darkness, of the forest devouring everything in its path, and of the faces she hadn’t even known yet, standing against it.

The firelight caught the sombre glint in their eyes as they listened, a subtle current drawing them tighter together.

Theresa had just finished describing the sinister man with a scarred face from her vision, when suddenly—

"Visions! Curses! Possessed forests!" Hermes materialized beside their table with a grin and a plate stacked high with honey cakes, the sombre tension scattering like startled birds. "My, my—you kids are practically a walking epic, aren't you?"

Hermes dropped the plate onto the table with a theatrical flourish, scattering crumbs everywhere. "Not every day you find a band of heroes mid-formation over my best vintage and pastries."

The group exchanged a few awkward glances, the weight of Theresa’s vision still hanging between them.

Jay cleared his throat. "The thing is... we don’t really know what we’re supposed to do next."

Hermes gave an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Lost? In my inn? Perish the thought!" He circled the table slowly, the wings on his sandals fluttering with each step. "But it just so happens I know a thing or two about helping travellers find their way."

He paused dramatically, then pointed a thumb toward the ceiling. "You see, the three lovely Oracles you visited? They deal in visions of the mortal realm. The past, present, future—all stitched into the mortal weave. But true prophecies? Threads spun by the Fates themselves? Those come from a different source."

Odie leaned forward, curiosity sharpening in his gaze. "You mean… there’s another Oracle?"

Hermes tapped the side of his nose, his eyes gleaming. "Bingo. Older. Wiser. Not bound to any temple or crown. The original voice of fate itself."
His grin widened, almost conspiratorial. "Still breathing, still weaving the threads of destiny—just not much of a people person.”

"Where do we find them?" Theresa asked, voice steady but low.

Hermes’ grin only grew more mischievous. "Ah, that's the trick, isn’t it? You’ll have to earn it. The old Oracle dwells beyond the edges of what most would dare to cross. Hidden through the Darke Forest, where the roads don’t follow maps and the trees themselves might take offense if you step wrong."

Neil paled slightly. "Sounds... charming."

"And dangerous," Atlanta added.

Hermes gave a breezy shrug. "Only if you're foolish, unlucky, or slow. Good thing you’ve got some capable legs among you." His gaze flickered briefly to Archie at the bar, unnoticed by most of the group.

Jay frowned. "Even if we wanted to get there... how would we even survive crossing the Darke Forest?"

Hermes leaned against the table, his voice dropping just slightly—almost conspiratorial. "Ah. That’s where fate lends a hand." He produced a folded piece of parchment from thin air and slid it across the table. A map—old, faded, barely complete.

"And," Hermes added cheerfully, "Chiron left you a little note."

Jay picked up the scrap of paper. Written in hurried script was a message:

"The forgotten road holds the steps you must take. Trust the path unseen."

They stared at it in silence.

Neil broke the tension by groaning and burying his face in his hands. "Why can’t anyone just say, ‘Turn left at the big scary tree and keep going’?"

As the group tried to decipher Chiron's riddle, Neil drained the last of his drink before standing up, stretching with a loud, theatrical sigh.

“I need something stronger if we’re about to go forest trekking,” he announced, brushing crumbs off his tunic. Without waiting for agreement, he wandered toward the bar, weaving around tables with a casual swagger that promised disaster.

Jay barely managed to choke out a warning—"Neil, maybe just—"—but it was too late.

With a careless swing into the empty stool, Neil's foot snagged the strap of Archie’s pack. The bag jerked sideways, spilling its contents—most notably a small dark vial that popped free, catching the firelight just long enough for Archie’s eyes to lock onto it.

“No-” He gasped.

With a sharp crack, the vial hit the floor. The scent of crushed herbs and iron hung in the air as the dark liquid pooled across the wooden boards in a shimmering smear.

Archie shot to his feet, the scrape of the chair jarring against the inn’s cosy hum. His breath caught sharp in his chest; eyes fixed on the spilled potion like it had punched a hole in his ribs.

Neil blinked down at the spreading mess. “Oops?” he offered sheepishly.

Archie turned his head slowly, the blue-grey of his eyes darkened into a storm. His hands flexed at his sides, as if he was fighting the instinct to grab the nearest thing and break it twice over.

“Relax, bud, I’ll spot you a new drink," Neil said breezily, waving it off like he hadn’t just kicked a hornet’s nest. Jay moved instinctively, stepping between them.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” Archie’s voice was low and steady. He could already feel the slow, rising thrum beneath his skin—the inevitable loss of control if he didn’t keep it together or find another dose soon.

Before the moment could tip too far, Hermes swept into the scene sidestepping the broken glass with ease “Easy now boys,” He sang, draping an arm over Archie’s stiff shoulders like they were lifelong friends. “I love a good sparring amongst mortals as much as the next Olympian, but let’s not spill more blood than potions tonight, hmm?”

Archie didn’t move, though the muscle ticking in his jaw suggested it was costing him everything not to.

Hermes gave a theatrical sigh, releasing Archie only to turn toward the others with a flourish. "Well, the Fates are certainly working overtime tonight," he said, voice brightening, "It seems you kids need a guide. And our friend here—" he gave Archie an affectionate pat that made the rogue visibly twitch—"happens to be quite talented at finding paths others… lose limbs trying.”

Atlanta narrowed her eyes. “You mean through the Darke Forest?”

Hermes beamed. “The very same! Did I mention he’s excellent at surviving things that want to eat you? Well of course you’ve got your standard cursed woods, monsters with too many heads, endless illusions. It’s A lovely little stroll, really. But without someone who knows the old roads...?” He mimed a throat-slitting gesture. “Let’s just say the trees won't be your biggest problem."

Archie’s scowl deepened. “I’m not a tour guide.”

Hermes chuckled. “No, but you could use the gold. And…" He dropped his voice with a conspiratorial air, "I hear there’s a very fine supplier of certain... rare potions and botanicals... not far from where these folks are heading."

Archie hesitated, the tension in his shoulders flickering. He didn’t trust coincidences. Especially ones involving the trickster God of thieves.

Neil, still hovering awkwardly nearby, fumbled his coin pouch onto the bar. "We’ll pay you!" he declared. "Gold. A lot of it. Enough to, I don’t know—buy a new cloak, a less tragic pair of boots, maybe even a proper haircut if you’re feeling wild."

Jay buried his face in his hands. Herry coughed loudly into his mug.

But Archie didn’t move for the gold. His blue-grey eyes glanced between the pouch on the table, the broken vial, and the strangers still staring at him. His attention snagged—just for a breath—on Atlanta.

A flicker, like static in the air.

His shoulders lifted and fell in a long, reluctant breath. He scooped up the coin pouch with a loose, almost careless swipe.

"Fine,” Archie muttered. “We leave in the morning.”