It has been three days since the battle with Zander and the tigers. You'd think seventy‑two hours would be enough time to process the chaos, but my mind is still trapped in the echo of clashing claws and desperate screams. Survival, I've learned, doesn't feel like victory. It feels like heavy, exhausting air. The days afterward blurred together—a relentless, busy haze with no real time to rest. The morning after the initial cleanup, the neighboring Alphas who had fought beside us—including Nova—took their leave. They carried their wounded and their dead back to their own territories, preparing to honor their fallen in the ways of their own packs.
The next day, our people returned—the ones we'd sent away for safety before the fighting began. When they finally stepped back onto our land, the sight was overwhelming. The clearing erupted into joyful, tearful reunions as they rushed into the arms of the survivors, weeping with relief that they were still alive to hold each other. But not everyone had someone waiting. For some, there was no one to run to. No arms to fall into. No familiar voice calling their name. The air, thick with happy cries, fractured around pockets of grief so sharp it felt like the world itself was mourning.
Shortly afterward, we held a somber viewing for those who had lost a beloved family member or friend. The heavy, grief‑filled silence returned as everyone stood before the bodies of their loved ones, staring at the physical cost of our survival. But the hardest part was Hope. Poor, orphaned Hope—standing in front of her mother's body, the only family she had ever known. Seeing her like that made the exhaustion of these past few days settle deeper into my bones.
My heart ached for her, and for everyone forced to step into this devastating new reality—learning how to go on without the people who had shaped their world. Later that evening, after the viewing, we held a pack‑wide ceremony to honor our fallen. We lit the pyre we had prepared ahead of time, and one by one, we committed their bodies to the flames—finally allowing their souls to travel to their resting place with the respect and love they deserved for their sacrifice. A sacrifice made so their families, and the pack, could survive the tiger invasion.
During and after the ceremony, I kept a heartbroken Hope by my side the entire evening. I wasn't sure if she truly understood death or what it meant, but she stood completely still beside me, watching quietly. Even when they called her mother's name and placed her mother's body into the pyre's immense flames, she didn't move. She simply stared as the fire consumed her, silent tears streaming down her cheeks while her shoulders trembled with choked, fragile sobs. Her small hand clung desperately to mine—as if afraid I might disappear too.
As the ceremony drew to a close, I brought Hope back to the house. The day before, I had already gone to Ms. Chambers's home to gather a few of her things. Once we arrived, I settled her into one of our guest bedrooms so she could rest more easily. But just after tucking her in—right before I could leave the room—my heart broke a little more. In a tiny, frightened voice, she asked what would happen to her now that her mother was gone—and whether she would have to live in an orphanage now that she was one herself.
I knew she had endured enough already, and that any big discussions should probably wait for another day. But hearing the raw fear in her voice, I couldn't bring myself to leave her in that state—not even for a night. I climbed onto the bed beside her and pulled her gently against my chest, holding her tight. I told her that no, she absolutely did not need to go to an orphanage. I explained that Kayden and I intended to adopt her—if she was okay with it. Hope gave a small, trembling nod against my shoulder. Then, as if my words had finally given her permission to let go, full, wracking sobs tore through her tiny frame. They were the same heartbreaking sobs that had shaken her earlier that day when she first saw her mother during the viewing. The true weight of everything—the battle, the loss, the terrifying finality of death—crashed down on her all at once.
I stayed right there with her, whispering soft assurances and rubbing her back, keeping her safe in my arms until her cries finally slowed and she slipped into unconsciousness from sheer exhaustion. Even then, I couldn't bring myself to leave her side. I stayed on the bed with her small body pressed securely against my chest. Even when I felt Kayden's presence standing quietly just outside the bedroom door, I didn't move. At some point, he slipped away—I don't know when—and the overwhelming exhaustion of the last few days finally caught up to me. I drifted into sleep with Hope still curled against me.
Hours had passed since then. Kayden and I had been tucked away in his office since early morning, going over report after report from before and after Zander's attack. Now, Kayden, Luca, and one of our warriors were reviewing the grim details surrounding the release and exile of Mr. Snow—Alisha's father, who had betrayed our pack. Alisha would have been allowed to leave with him, but we couldn't grant that mercy. During the battle, one of Zander's warriors had slipped into the prison where they were being held. According to the guards—and Mr. Snow himself—he had provided Zander with a detailed layout of our territory, including the exact location of the cells holding his daughter. He had foolishly believed Zander would keep his word: that once the pack was destroyed, the tigers would rescue him and Alisha, sparing them both from the massacre.
Instead, because of his treason, Mr. Snow had been forced to watch helplessly from his cell as his beloved daughter was mercilessly tortured and killed right in front of him. The guards had barely made it down to the cells in time to kill the tiger and stop him from finishing off Mr. Snow to tie up the loose ends. They saved his life—though I was certain he now wished they hadn't. He had been seconds away from suffering the same fate as his daughter, and now he was left alive to carry the crushing weight of what his choices had done. Alisha received no honor in death. Her body had been burned on a pile with the enemy tigers that same day, stripped of every pack right she once held.
Despite hearing the guard's report on the broken, miserable state of the man, Kayden's expression didn't shift. His face remained carved from stone. He simply told the warrior to proceed with the release. Then, in a cold, steady voice, he added that he didn't care if the traitor killed himself the moment, he crossed the border—but the guards were to ensure Mr. Snow stayed alive until then. His traitorous blood would not stain our land, and his soul would never rest peacefully in the territory he once called home. His body could rot outside our borders for all he cared. The guard bowed deeply upon hearing his words. "As you wish, Alpha," he said before leaving the room and shutting the office door behind him.
The moment it clicked shut, Kayden sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. Seeing him like that, I placed my hand on his shoulder from where I stood beside him behind the desk. I gave it a gentle squeeze—a reminder that I was here, that I was with him, that he wasn't carrying all of this alone. He turned toward me immediately, placing his hand over mine and giving it a small squeeze in return—a silent thank you. Amelia, who had been leaning against the arm of Luca's chair, quietly observing the entire exchange, finally spoke up. "So... how's the little girl holding up? Is she adjusting alright so far?"
Hearing Amelia's words, I knew she was referring to Hope — and the expression on her face told me she was genuinely concerned. Even so, I couldn't help but sigh as I ran my fingers through my hair before answering honestly. "I'm not sure right now. I haven't had a chance to see her since breakfast this morning... and she barely touched her food." Amelia nodded, settling more fully against Luca's side on the arm of his chair. "That makes sense. The poor dear has been through so much already." I nodded in agreement. "That's for sure. I just wish we could've spent more than a few minutes with her at the dining table before getting whisked away to the office."
Kayden's head snapped toward me the moment those words left my lips, his chair swiveling a second later. "I told you—if you wanted to stay with her, you didn't have to come with me. I could've handled everything." My expression softened as I looked down into his concerned eyes, my heart swelling at the quiet thoughtfulness behind his words. A small, loving smile curved my lips. "I know you did. But the moment I chose to be your mate, that meant becoming Luna. I can't let you handle everything alone. And now that I am Luna, I need to start getting used to the duties that come with it."
Adoration and pride filled his eyes, a pleased smile forming on his lips. Before I could react, he reached out, hands sliding around my hips and pulling me toward him. My feet tripped over themselves, and I fell into his lap—but the way he caught me, guiding me smoothly into his arms, made it clear he'd planned it. He pulled me against his chest, looking directly into my eyes. "I love you so much, Ari. And you're going to make an incredible Luna." My smile widened, warmth blooming through my chest. "I love you too, Kayden." He smiled and leaned in, intent clear in the warmth of his eyes-a slow, deliberate move toward a kiss that promised far more than simple affection. My breath caught, anticipation coiling low and bright as his lips neared mine.
But before our lips could meet, Amelia cleared her throat sharply.The sound sliced through the moment like a blade. Kayden and I pulled apart just enough to acknowledge her presence—though he didn't release me. His arm tightened around my waist, anchoring me firmly on his lap as if daring anyone to suggest I move. Amelia, however, remained unfazed. "So," she began, her tone brisk and rising with every word, "since you're both here—who exactly is looking after Hope? I sincerely hope you didn't leave her alone in a strange place. Not after everything she's been through. It's only been one day since she learned her mother—her only family—is gone. Leaving her by herself would be far too cruel. I can't imagine either of you doing something so irresponsible." Her words came faster and faster, worry spiraling into reprimand.
Kayden's jaw flexed, the faintest growl vibrating through his chest beneath my palms. His arm stayed locked around me, protective and unyielding, as if Amelia's words were a threat he needed to shield me from. The bond stirred in response—warm, grounding, steady—even as the tension in the room shifted. "No," I said flatly, cutting through Amelia's panic. "We did not leave Hope unattended. I wouldn't be sitting here if that were the case. I would never do that to her—or to any child." Kayden's arm tightened around my waist in silent agreement, his presence warm and grounding against my back.
"Hope is currently with Lydia," I continued, my voice softening at the memory. "Kayden's mother. She came by early this morning and insisted we leave Hope with her for the day." Kayden nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "In fact, she was very excited to take her." My lips curved upward, amusement blooming in my chest as the memory replayed—Lydia practically bursting through the dining room door while we were still eating breakfast.
Her eyes bright, hands already reaching for Hope before we'd even finished greeting her. She'd shooed us out like misbehaving children, insisting we go handle pack business while she took care of the little one. "I think she's just thrilled to spend time with her first grandchild," I said, amusement softening my voice. Kayden huffed a quiet laugh behind me, his chin brushing my shoulder. "She's been waiting for this since the moment she found out we were mates." Amelia's shoulders finally relaxed, tension draining from her posture as relief washed over her face.
Just as the room settled into a comfortable silence, and before anyone could speak again, the air shifted. The temperature dropped by several degrees, a sharp, unexpected chill slicing straight through my clothes. The shadows along the walls elongated, stretching across the floorboards as the amber afternoon light filtering through the windows flickered erratically, dimming into a low, oppressive gloom. Kayden's grip on my waist tightened instantly. His muscles locked, a low warning growl rumbling deep in his chest. Beside us, Luca snapped to attention, eyes widening as he and Amelia braced themselves.
Then the air in the center of the office fractured. A brilliant, blinding spark erupted in the middle of the room — a newborn flame, erratic and hypnotic. It flickered violently, snapping and sparking with an unnatural golden warmth that defied the freezing air around us. The light flared upward like a roaring bonfire, casting long, dancing shadows across our faces. And then, just as suddenly appeared, it just as quickly collapsed inward—snuffed out like a dying ember. Standing in the center of the office, materialized from the very heart of that divine fire, was Athena.
She was no longer wearing the full armor she'd worn the last time we saw her. Instead, she wore a silver toga with black trimming, the fabric draping elegantly over her frame. The silver highlighted her golden‑tan skin, amplifying her divinity until she seemed carved from moonlight and purpose itself. Her long golden‑bronze hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the thick length resting over one shoulder. The ends curled softly where they brushed her stomach, catching the light like molten metal. Then her eyes—those deep, bright violet eyes—lifted and met mine across the desk where Kayden and I sat. Everything about her—her presence, her posture, the faint hum of power vibrating through the air—made her appear regal and unmistakably divine. Flawless. Untouchable. Almost.
Confusion rippled through the room, sharp and stunned, until Kayden's deep voice cut through it. "If you're going to keep showing up and leaving my pack as you please," he said, gravelly and dry, "I think it would be beneficial to everyone if you learned how to enter and exit through a door like everyone else." Athena's neat, thin eyebrow arched, the corner of her mouth lifting in quiet amusement. "Now that you and your mate are gods, you will eventually learn how to come and go from Olympus and the physical plane. And I guarantee that once you do, you won't have any desire to enter like a normal person—any more than the rest of us do." Kayden snorted, rolling his eyes. "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should." Her smirk deepened. "True. But you'll find out for yourself soon enough." Kayden's eyes narrowed, annoyance tightening every line of his face.
The two of them stared at one another for a long, charged moment — Kayden with that defiant, disbelieving set to his jaw, and Athena with her amused, knowing expression that made it painfully clear she was enjoying every second of his irritation. The air crackled between them, neither willing to look away first. Finally, having enough of their silent standoff, I stepped in. "So," I said, curiosity threading through my voice, "what brings you here today, Athena? After what you said last time, I didn't think we'd be seeing you again so soon. We're still working on getting the pack back on its feet after the battle." Kayden stiffened beside me but didn't interrupt. Athena's gaze flicked between us, her expression shifting—not softer, but sharper, like she was assessing something only she could see. Athena never appeared without purpose. She wasn't the type to drop in for conversation. So, I knew she wanted something—I just wasn't sure what yet.
Her expression changed at my words. A more serious look overtook her features, her eyebrow twitching upward ever so slightly. But instead of answering me, she turned her body and glanced at Amelia. The moment her gaze landed on her, Amelia tensed—a sudden, terrified rigidity snapping through her body. Luca narrowed his eyes and wrapped an arm protectively around her waist, pulling her securely against his chest. His protective stance was sharp, territorial. Athena didn't look at him once. She kept her gaze locked on Amelia. A knot of dread formed in my stomach. The way Athena was acting—the focus, the silence, the shift in the air—told me instinctively that whatever she was about to say or do, I wasn't going to like it one bit.
Athena extended a slender, perfectly manicured hand toward Amelia. "It is time, my dear." The moment the words left the goddess's lips, the remaining color drained from Amelia's face, leaving her ghost‑pale. Her entire frame went rigid where she sat on the arm of the chair. Shock overtook her features—sharp, raw—before melting into a wave of immense, suffocating sadness. From where I sat anchored firmly in Kayden's lap, I felt him stiffen beneath me, muscles locking as his eyes narrowed in sharp confusion. My own brow furrowed, a jolt of pure perplexity shooting through me. Time for what?
Beside Amelia, Luca felt the shift instantly. His brow furrowed in deep, sharp confusion as his arm tightened around her waist, anchoring her against his chest. He glanced up at her devastated face, then snapped his gaze toward Athena, his voice thick with defensive bewilderment. Before Luca could find his words, Kayden's deep, gravelly voice cut through the heavy silence—sharp, demanding. "What the hell are you going on about now, Athena?" he growled, his grip on my waist tightening. "Time for what?"
Athena's gaze flicked toward Kayden for only a fraction of a second, her expression utterly unbothered by his tone. She didn't spare him more than a heartbeat before her violet eyes returned to Amelia, her extended hand remaining perfectly still. "Olympus awaits," Athena said smoothly. he two words fell like ice into the freezing silence of the office. She said nothing more. She didn't elaborate. She didn't soften. She simply let the terrifying weight of the statement hang in the air. Beside me, Kayden's muscles went rigid, a harsh breath catching in his throat as his mind raced to decipher the goddess's lack of explanation. Amelia was a wolf — a member of our pack. Why would Olympus be awaiting her? The question hung in the air like a blade.
But as Athena's words echoed through the quiet, a sudden, horrifying realization struck me like a physical blow. A wave of cold dread washed over me as the truth resurfaced — the truth we had all conveniently forgotten or perhaps refused to acknowledge. Amelia was a handmaiden to the Moon Goddess, Artemis. Her life here, her time among our pack, had never been permanent. She was bound to the divine realm, and eventually, the debt of her existence would come due. She was meant to return to Olympus. To continue her servitude for another hundred years. To leave everything—and everyone—behind. The illusion we'd been living in shattered. Athena wasn't playing a game. She wasn't threatening. She wasn't negotiating. She was here to collect what belonged to the gods—like Amelia was nothing more than property.
The heavy quiet in the room fractured the moment that finality settled into the air. But it was Luca who broke it first. "Olympus?" Luca echoed, recoiling from the word as if it carried venom. His head snapped from Athena back to Amelia, his arm tightening almost painfully around her waist. His eyes were wide, frantic, desperate. "What the hell is she talking about, Mia? Why is she saying that?" Amelia didn't answer him. A single, heavy tear spilled over her lower lashes, sliding down her ghost‑pale cheek. She looked at Luca with an expression of such profound, suffocating apology that it cut deeper than any confession ever could. She didn't deny it. She didn't tell him Athena was wrong. She didn't even try. She just squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her forehead against his shoulder as a quiet, broken sob escaped her lips.
Her silence was the ultimate betrayal of his reality. "Mia, look at me," Luca pleaded, his voice cracking as panic surged through him, tightening his grip on her and making his whole body go rigid. He cupped her chin gently, forcing her to face him, his own eyes wild. "Tell me she's lying. Tell me you aren't going anywhere." Athena's voice rang out through the room, making the space feel even smaller under the sheer weight of her words. "She cannot tell you that, pup," Athena said softly—her tone an unyielding anchor that crushed any hope of argument. She paused, her cold violet eyes boring into the side of Amelia's face.
As the words left her lips, Athena lowered her extended hand, her posture settling into an untouchable, finalized stance. She let the silence stretch, heavy and judgmental, her gaze drifting from Luca's desperate expression to Amelia's bowed head, then sweeping across the rest of us in turn. She took in the chaos of our reactions with a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. Then she turned slightly, her gaze locking onto Kayden. "How disappointing," Athena murmured, her voice slicing through the quiet. "It appears your Beta is the only one left in the dark. I am disappointed that no one in this room possessed the courage to inform him of the truth sooner—so he could grieve her loss and prepare for the inevitable."
Her violet eyes snapped back to Luca, her posture still flawless, her tone still clinical. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kayden look away, jaw tight as a suffocating wave of guilt rolled off his shoulders. He couldn't bring himself to meet Luca's eyes. On the arm of the chair, Amelia looked just as broken, her shoulders trembling as she buried her face in her hands, swallowed by her own silent shame. But before anyone could defend themselves, Athena continued. "Amelia is not a true member of your pack—"
"You're out of your mind," Luca snapped, cutting her off with a fierce, explosive edge. He rose slightly from his seat, his arm tightening like iron around Amelia's waist, pulling her flush against his side. His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of defiance and escalating panic. "Look, I've had to accept a lot of crazy things lately," Luca growled, his voice vibrating with raw fury. "I've had to admit that you're an actual god, just like our Moon Goddess. I'm learning to accept that there are other divine entities like you out there. But just because I'm forcing myself to accept your existence doesn't mean I believe a single word coming out of your mouth right now."
He pointed a sharp, shaking finger toward the goddess, his chest heaving with every breath. "And that's exactly how I know you're crazy," Luca snapped, the words ripping out of him like claws. "Amelia is a member of this pack. We grew up together. She has been right here by my side since we were literal children." His voice cracked, but the fury didn't falter. "You don't get to just walk in here and rewrite her entire life." The declaration hit the room like a shockwave—raw, desperate, and violently protective. His arm tightened around Amelia's waist, pulling her flush against him as if he could shield her from divine hands through sheer force of will. His eyes burned, wild and disbelieving, locked on Athena with a hatred only terror could birth.
Athena didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She simply watched Luca's outburst with that same detached, clinical calm, waiting for the mortal's denial to burn itself out. Beside me, Kayden let out a low, pained breath, still unable to look up. The tragedy in the room only deepened — because while Luca was fighting with everything he had based on the memories of their childhood, the heavy silence from Kayden and Amelia proved those memories were nothing more than a beautifully crafted illusion.
An amused, maddeningly calm smirk tugged at the corner of Athena's lips. Smoothly, she turned and perched herself on the edge of Kayden's mahogany desk, crossing one elegant leg over the other. The movement was regal, dripping with suffocating condescension. From her elevated position, she looked down at us like a schoolteacher preparing to repeat a very basic lesson to a particularly slow‑witted child. "Oh, pup," Athena sighed, her violet eyes glinting with cold, mocking pity as she locked onto Luca. "I do so hate repetition, but your fierce little mortal delusions are almost endearing. You cling to your childhood memories as if they are absolute truth, completely blind to the fact that we are gods. We don't just read minds — we rewrite them. We can plant false memories as easily as a farmer plants seeds."
Luca's breath hitched, his entire body locking up as he stared at her—but Athena didn't stop. Her piercing gaze slid from Luca's pale face to Kayden's tight jaw, then down to where I sat frozen in Kayden's lap. "Amelia was only sent down to this realm just before you all started middle school," Athena stated smoothly, her voice cold and sharp as marble. "Every single memory you possess of her before that age is a complete fabrication. I intentionally manufactured those distant, cold childhood recollections so your adult minds would never question why you weren't closer as toddlers." She leaned forward slightly, violet eyes locking back onto Luca, delivering the final, crushing blow.
"Your precious childhood history is a ghost, Beta," Athena said, her voice smooth and merciless. "A beautifully constructed illusion designed to make your soul trust the Trojan horse I planted in your pack. The reality is simple: she belongs to Olympus, and her time here is done." For a long, horrifying second, the room was completely devoid of sound. The truth didn't just hang in the air—it crushed us, heavy and absolute. Luca's chest stopped heaving. He went terrifyingly still, the fierce defiance in his eyes fracturing into raw, unadulterated horror. Slowly, desperately, his head snapped down toward his mate, begging her with his eyes to tell him the goddess was lying.
But Amelia couldn't meet his gaze. She buried her face deeper into her hands, her shoulders shaking violently as a broken sob escaped her. Her reaction was the final confirmation. The childhood they shared, the late‑night talks about their past—all of it was a beautifully spun web of lies. "No..." Luca whispered, the word barely a breath. His hands trembled against her waist. He let go of her chin, stumbling back half a step as if the woman in his arms had suddenly become a stranger. "No, no, no. Mia, look at me. Please, look at me."
When she finally raised her head, her face was ruined by tears, her eyes red and swimming with suffocating apology. "I'm sorry, Luca," she choked, her voice fractured into a million pieces. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to leave you. I never wanted to leave you." A harsh, ragged sound tore from Luca's throat—not a growl, but the sound of a man breaking apart. His head snapped up, his wild, frantic gaze locking onto Kayden, then ripping over to me. The raw, bleeding betrayal in his eyes made my stomach twist violently.
"You knew," Luca said. His voice dropped into a dangerous, deadly quiet—far more terrifying than any roar. He took a sharp, aggressive step toward Kayden's desk, fists white‑knuckled at his sides, chest heaving with a sudden surge of adrenaline. For a split second, I genuinely thought he was going to lunge across the wood and strike his Alpha. Kayden didn't move. He didn't defend himself. He just braced his shoulders, ready to take whatever wrath his best friend unleashed.
But Luca never threw the punch. Halfway through his stride, his movement hitched. His head snapped back toward the arm of the chair where Amelia sat completely broken, her soft sobs echoing through the suffocating room. The realization struck him like a physical blow—fighting Kayden was a waste of the precious seconds he had left. Kayden wasn't the threat. The goddess perched regally on the desk was. Swallowing his rage, Luca spun on his heel and turned his back on us entirely. He dropped to his knees in front of Amelia, abandoning all his pride, instincts, and anger in an instant.
"Mia," he begged, his voice cracking out of that deadly quiet and fracturing into pure, raw desperation. His large hands trembled violently as he cupped her face, gently but firmly forcing her to look at him. "Mia, look at me. Forget about them. Forget about her. Look at me." Amelia slowly lowered her hands, her green eyes swimming with a suffocating, silent apology as she finally met his gaze. Seeing the devastation wrecking his features, she leaned heavily into the warmth of his palms, her own hands flying up to grip his wrists tightly as she anchored herself to him. "I don't care if a god planted my earlier memories. Or that you weren't originally from our pack," Luca whispered, his voice trembling as he searched her face for any sign of hope. "I don't even care where you came from."
"You are my mate," Luca choked out, staring directly into her soul. "You were made for me as I was made for you. We belong together. No matter how you got here, or what secrets were hidden away in your mind, the love I have for you is the only real thing I have ever known. Even if Athena is right about your past, she cannot rewrite us." A ragged, shuddering breath escaped Luca's chest as he dropped his forehead against hers, pulling her into a fierce, desperate embrace — clutching her as if he could physically shield her from the heavens themselves. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the sound of their quiet breaths.
From her regal perch on the edge of the desk, Athena simply watched them cling to each other with a blank, unbothered expression. Her violet eyes were cold and still as carved marble. To a goddess who had watched empires rise and fall for thousands of years, their raw, bleeding love story wasn't an offense. It was just a minor delay. Slowly, Athena rose from the desk, her movements perfectly fluid and dripping with an untouchable authority that made the air turn instantly frigid. Every shift of her posture carried the weight of Olympus—cold, inevitable, absolute.
"A touching sentiment, pup," Athena murmured, her voice slicing through their fragile sanctuary without hesitation. "But Amelia knew what she was agreeing to the moment we asked her to come down to the mortal realm." Her violet eyes glinted, ancient and merciless. "She has long known that once her task was complete, she would return to her place at her goddess's side—her post beyond the veil of the mortal realm, among the clouds of Olympus." The words fell like a divine verdict, flattening the room's remaining hope. Athena didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. Her tone alone carried the finality of a closing gate—one that mortals had no power to reopen.
His embrace went stiff. For a long, torturous second, he didn't pull away — but the sudden rigidity in his muscles spoke volumes. Slowly, agonizingly, Luca pulled his head back just enough to look down into Amelia's face. The desperate defiance that had fueled him moments ago was gone, replaced by a hollow, terrifying confusion. "You knew?" Luca whispered. The words were small, raw, stripped of every ounce of Beta authority." Mia... you knew you had to go back? The whole time?"
Amelia closed her eyes, unable to bear the sheer agony painting his features. A fresh sob tore from her throat, her grip on his wrists tightening so hard her knuckles turned white — as if she were trying to physically hold onto the life, she was about to lose. "I didn't know I would find you," she wept, her voice a broken, breathless plea against his chest. "When I agreed to come down, I didn't know about the bond, Luca. I didn't know what it felt like to love someone like this. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
"It is true," Athena intervened smoothly, her voice slicing through the grief with sharp, clinical clarity. She stepped forward from the desk; violet eyes fixed on the weeping handmaiden. "We never told her that the two of you were fated mates." Her tone held a cold, strategic satisfaction. "We only told her that she needed to get close to the two of them—to Kayden and yourself. Her directive was simple: when Kayden eventually found his true mate, she was to ensure they did not reject one another on sight. She was a buffer, meant to keep them close for as long as possible and let the mate bond do the rest. Once the roots took hold, her purpose here was fulfilled."
For a long moment, Luca just stared at Amelia. The initial sting of betrayal melted away into a profound, breaking sorrow. "They used you," Luca whispered, his voice cracking as he reached up, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "They dropped you into my life just to ensure their own plans succeeded... and they didn't care that it would break you, too." Amelia leaned into his touch, her green eyes open now, burning with desperate, fierce devotion.
"I would choose you again," she breathed, her voice trembling but gaining strength with every word. "Even if they had told me from the very beginning... even knowing exactly how agonizing this moment would end, Luca, I still would have come down. Every shifter in the world would do anything—endure anything—just to meet and protect their mate. I wouldn't trade a single second of our time together, and I wouldn't trade this broken heart just to avoid the pain. Getting to know you, sharing every laugh, loving you... it has been the greatest treasure of my entire life."
From where she stood, Athena looked down at them, her expression unmoving. She didn't offer sympathy, but she granted them one final grace note of time. "A beautiful testament to the Fates," Athena murmured, her tone still clinical. "But the clock does not stop for mortal declarations. Come to my side, Amelia. It is nearly time to go." Luca sharply shook his head, desperation ripping through him. "No," Luca choked, his arms locking around her waist again, pulling her flush against his chest as if he could anchor her to the mortal realm through sheer force of will. "No, I'm not letting you go. You are my mate. We are meant to be together. No one—not even the gods—has the right to tear us apart. I won't let them take you."
"Luca, listen to me," Amelia pleaded softly, placing her hands on his cheeks to force him to meet her eyes. A small, bittersweet smile touched her lips through her tears. "Our separation isn't forever. Athena said it herself—Artemis's handmaidens are bound by ancient laws, but a handmaiden is dismissed after her centuries of service. My servitude will end, Luca. And when my time is done, I am coming back to you. We will spend the rest of our lives—and all of eternity—together. You have to hold onto that. You have to wait for me." Her words were soft, but they carried a promise so heavy neither of them knew if they could keep it.
Luca looked at her like a man drowning, clinging to the only thing that could keep him afloat. Before he could even process the weight of her promise, the sheer injustice of the situation fractured the fragile quiet of the room. Kayden's posture snapped upright, his presence swelling with a commanding force that made the air tighten, his entire body coiled with a fierce, protective intensity that rolled through the room like a storm front. His left arm tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest as if to remind everyone exactly who I belonged to, while his eyes locked onto Athena with a dangerous, feral gold brilliance.
Bang! Kayden slammed his right fist down onto the heavy mahogany desk. The wood groaned under the immense force of his strike, causing the papers to rattle and the inkwell to tremble as he loomed forward in his seat, his chest heaving with a controlled, lethal fury. "Enough!" Kayden roared, his voice vibrating with a raw, protective power that shook the very walls of the office.
"I don't care that Amelia wasn't originally from our pack or that she wasn't born here. She has been by our side for decades now. She is one of my best friends and one of my most hardworking Betas. She is invaluable to me. Even if she wasn't entirely forthcoming with her past and who she truly is, I don't care anymore—because despite all that, she has been a true and loyal friend to me for years. So, no matter what anyone says or thinks, she is a vital part of this pack. And I'll be damned if you or anyone else is going to just come into my pack and take one of my beloved pack members to gods‑knows‑where!"
The echoing roar of Kayden's voice slowly faded, leaving a heavy, ringing silence in the room. The air felt charged, thick with the suffocating weight of his anger. Luca's head snapped up and through the raw grief wrecking his features, a sudden gleam of grim satisfaction and fierce pride broke through. His Alpha was standing up for them. His Alpha was refusing to back down. A dark, desperate spark of hope flared in Luca's chest as he looked from Kayden to the goddess, ready to fight to the death if Kayden gave the word.
Amelia, however, went completely pale, her green eyes widening in absolute shock. I felt her breath hitch from across the room—sharp, panicked—the kind of sound only someone who truly understood divine consequences could make. Her shoulders drew tight, bracing as if she expected a blow from Athena herself. And I knew exactly why. Amelia had lived under a goddess's command for years. She knew the terrifying, unyielding scale of divine power in a way none of us mortals ever could. She knew what happened to those who dared defy the heavens—not in stories, not in warnings, but in lived experience. So, when Kayden rose against Athena, when his voice thundered through the room like a challenge to Olympus itself... Amelia didn't see bravery. She saw a man she loved walking straight into fire.
For several long, suffocating seconds, Kayden and Athena locked eyes. From where I sat in his lap, I felt the tension like a physical force—the air stretched taut between them, vibrating with a silent, dangerous friction. Kayden's chest heaved beneath my back, his hand anchored to the desk as he fought the roaring instinct to protect his pack against the cold, unyielding reality of Athena's warning. Athena didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't even acknowledge the storm building inside him. With effortless indifference, she broke the stare and turned her back on him, her violet eyes settling on Amelia once more. "Say your goodbyes, handmaiden," Athena murmured, her tone calm and clinical—as if she were reciting a schedule. "If the two of you are fortunate, in another hundred or two years, when your servitude has ended, you may be permitted to return to the mortal realm. Until then, you are to resume your position at your goddess's side."
Her words dropped into the room like an iron weight. A century or two meant nothing to a goddess. But to the shifters around me, it was an agonizing lifetime. Amelia swallowed hard, a bittersweet tear slipping down her cheek as she looked at Luca. The promise of her eventual return was there—but the wait would be devastatingly long. "No," Luca choked out. His arms locked around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he shook his head in violent, desperate denial. "No... Mia, please. A hundred years? Two hundred? I don't want to live a lifetime without you. Please just stay here with me. Just stay. I love you, Mia. I love you so much. I don't want to be without you... you are my mate."
"Luca, look at me," Amelia whispered. I watched her reach up, cradling his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her thumbs brushed away the fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. She offered him a small, trembling smile—one that broke under the weight of her own grief. "We can't change this, my love. But a hundred years is a blink to the Fates. I will hold onto the memory of your face every single day. I will count down every second until I can sprint back into these woods and into your arms. You have to be strong for me. You have to live, Luca. Promise me you'll wait." Her voice cracked, but her devotion didn't.
Luca didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned down and captured her lips in a desperate, bruising kiss. It was a kiss fueled by pure heartbreak, his hands tangling in her hair as if he could somehow anchor her to the mortal realm through the sheer force of his love. Amelia gasped against his mouth, pouring all her own unspoken sorrow into the kiss, holding onto him just as tightly. When he finally pulled back, his breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. He pressed his forehead heavily against hers one last time, and then—reluctantly, agonizingly—the violent tension in Luca's shoulders began to bleed out into a hollow, crushing defeat. His fingers slowly, painfully uncurled from her waist, letting her go only because her love demanded it.
And sitting there in Kayden's lap, feeling his heartbeat hammering against my spine, I understood the cruelty of it in a way only someone touched by the divine could. Athena's timeline wasn't a threat—it was a decree. A law older than kingdoms. Older than the moon. Older than the forests these shifters called home.Luca wasn't just fighting fate.He was fighting Olympus.And Amelia...She was already halfway claimed by it.
Amelia then stepped back, wiping her eyes as she turned her gaze toward the desk. Kayden was still rigid, his fist white‑knuckled against the mahogany, his gray eyes burning with unresolved, protective fury. "Kayden, please don't get so worked up," Amelia said softly, her voice carrying a deep, grounding warmth. "I know you want to fight for me, and I love you for it. But I'm fine. Truly. I've been with the goddesses since I was a child, and I knew what I agreed to when I consented to come down to the mortal realm on behalf of the gods. I knew the terms. It's okay."
Hearing her speak—hearing the absolute certainty and acceptance in her voice—was the only thing capable of piercing through Kayden's protective anger. He slowly lifted his hand from the desk, his chest heaving as he forced his wolf to stand down, yielding strictly because it was her wish. "You will always have your place here in this pack, Amelia," Kayden promised, his voice deep and rough with emotion as his left arm tightened securely around me. "No matter how many centuries pass, your rank is yours. You will always be welcomed home."
I pressed myself closer against Kayden's chest, my own vision blurring with tears as I looked at the girl who had become so much more than just a friend—she was part of our family in every way that mattered. I nodded fiercely to confirm Kayden's words, letting my voice cut through the heavy silence of the room. "He's right, Amelia. This will always be your home. We will keep your place ready for you, always," I said softly, my voice trembling with unshed emotion as I met her eyes.
Stepping out from the safety of Kayden's arms, I closed the distance between us and threw my arms around her. Amelia held onto me just as tightly, both of us anchoring each other through the heartbreak. "I don't care about the gods or what they demand," I whispered into her shoulder, burying my face against her as the tears finally spilled over. "To me, you're my friend, and nothing—not even a hundred years—is going to change that. I'm going to miss you so much." Amelia squeezed me one last time before we reluctantly pulled apart.
As I stepped back, Kayden finally let go of his rigid posture at the desk. The fierce, unyielding protector melted away, leaving only the boy who had grown up alongside her. He stepped forward, his massive frame enveloping Amelia in a fierce, crushing hug. Amelia buried her face against his chest, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if clinging to the decades of memories they shared. Kayden held her so tightly it looked as though he were trying to shield her from the heavens themselves, his jaw clenched tight as he fought back his own rare tears.
They had been best friends since middle school—through every awkward phase, every pack milestone, every trial. And now he had to let her walk into the gods' realm. Even if it had always been part of her destiny, it didn't erase the years they'd spent side by side. "Take care of yourself, Mia," Kayden murmured into her hair, his voice breaking just slightly. "Don't let them change who you are." When he finally pulled back, he placed his large hands on her shoulders, giving them a firm, reassuring squeeze before stepping back to my side. His hand immediately found my waist again, his fingers gripping me tightly for anchor.
Amelia wiped a fresh stray tear from her cheek, a look of profound gratitude washing over her features as she let out a breathless, watery laugh—deeply moved by our loyalty. Taking a steadying breath, she squared her shoulders and turned back toward the goddess, ready to face her with her head held high. Athena didn't utter a single word of comfort, nor did she acknowledge the tears staining Amelia's cheeks. To the goddess, mortal grief was irrelevant. She merely extended a pale, flawless hand toward Amelia, her violet eyes gleaming with a cool, absolute authority that commanded immediate obedience.
"The time has come," Athena murmured, her voice carrying a soft, echoing resonance that made the glass panes in the office windows hum. Amelia took a final, lingering breath, casting one last look over her shoulder at Luca, Kayden, and me. Her expression was a mix of devastating heartbreak and unbreakable resolve. Then, she turned completely away from us, stepping forward to place her small hand into Athena's waiting palm. The moment their fingers brushed, a piercing, incandescent glow erupted from the center of the room. It wasn't a slow burn; it was a sudden, violent explosion of blinding white light that swallowed everything.
The sheer brilliance of it was overwhelming, stabbing straight through my closed eyelids. I gasped, turning my head away as stark, empty whiteness consumed my vision, temporarily blinding me. For several long, agonizing seconds, the world was nothing but a silent, radiant void. Gradually, the brilliance began to fade. The harsh whiteness bled away, allowing the familiar, dim shapes of the office to slowly return. Blinking rapidly through the lingering dark spots in my vision, I snapped my gaze toward the center of the room—my heart hammering against my ribs, bracing for the crushing emptiness of a room without her.
Except... the emptiness never came. My chest tightened in sheer, overwhelming confusion as my eyes adjusted. Amelia was still standing there. My brain scrambled, completely unable to process the sight of her. We had just said our final goodbyes. The light had taken her. She was supposed to be gone—yet there she was, solid and breathing. That same paralyzing bewilderment was mirrored perfectly on Amelia's face.
She was staring down at her own empty, open palms, turning them over slowly as if she couldn't quite believe they were her own. Her brow knit tight, her shoulders tense, her jaw slack with utter shock as she looked around the space where the goddess had just been standing. She looked just as lost and confused by her own presence as we were. Across from me, Luca let out a sharp, breathless gasp, his eyes wide as he stared at his mate. For a fraction of a second, a heavy, baffled silence hung over the room as we all tried to make sense of the impossibility in front of us.
But before any of us could open our mouths to ask what was happening, a soft, amused chuckle cut through the quiet. The sound came from the other side of Kayden's desk. Every single one of us snapped our heads toward it. There, perched entirely at ease behind the heavy mahogany desk, was Athena. She had casually claimed Kayden's leather chair, leaning back into it with an air of effortless grace, looking for all the world as if she belonged there. A smug, clinical smile played on her lips as she watched our stunned reactions. Her violet eyes gleamed with quiet, mocking satisfaction.
"You really should have seen your faces," Athena purred, resting her chin on her hand with effortless poise. "The tragic despair was almost magnificent. You mortals take yourselves far too seriously." Her casual mockery broke the stillness in the room—Kayden's fury flared hot and immediate, while the rest of us stayed locked in stunned silence, my own irritation flickering beneath the shock. Kayden took a heavy step toward the desk, his cold, steel‑gray eyes locking onto her with a dangerous intensity. He slammed both hands flat against the mahogany, leaning forward to look the goddess dead in the eye. "What the hell kind of game are you playing at, Athena?" Kayden demanded, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly register that shook with pure aggravation.
She arched her brow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Come now, Kayden. There is no need to be so tense. I thought you would be happy to see her still standing there?" Kayden let out a sharp breath, dropping one hand from the desk to run his fingers through his hair in pure frustration. He gripped the strands for a second before letting his hand fall away, his jaw clenching tightly. "Yes, we are happy she's still here," he snapped, leaning back into her space. "But why the hell make us say goodbye if you were just going to do this in the first place? I have absolutely no idea what exactly you are planning, Athena, and I'm done trying to figure it out. Now tell me what the hell it is that you are planning?!"
Athena leaned back into the leather cushions with complete nonchalance, entirely unfazed by his demands. Her smirk faded, replaced by a cool, calculating look that seemed to see straight through him. "I am planning to fix a fracture," Athena said smoothly. "You have all been putting on a brave face for the pack, but the mistrust in this room has been suffocating. Ever since you learned the truth about Amelia's origins, you have spent every waking moment creating distance — constantly questioning what was real and what was an act." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing right through Kayden's defensive posture.
"You can no longer trust your own instincts or your own memories, Kayden. So, you chose to pull away. I forced you to feel the weight of a final goodbye to remind you that the bond and the friendship you share is real, regardless of how it began. You needed to see what you would be losing to finally stop second‑guessing it." Athena remained seated behind the mahogany desk, her violet eyes holding Kayden's rigid gaze with a quiet, unyielding challenge. The room stayed suffocatingly still, the heavy silence stretching out as her words sank in, dragging his self‑inflicted distance into the open.
Kayden didn't push forward this time. Instead, he slowly straightened, his hands leaving the surface of the desk. His jaw remained tight, a muscle working in his cheek as he absorbed her critique. He didn't look back at Amelia—not yet—but the aggressive edge in his posture faded slightly, replaced by the grim, heavy weight of a leader forced to confront a truth he'd been actively avoiding. "But I don't understand," Amelia cut in, her voice breaking the silence as she finally found her footing. She took a step forward, her chest heaving as she looked at Athena in utter bewilderment. "I've always known that once this was all over, I would have to return to the Moon Goddess's side. I was ready to go back to my mistress. I accepted my fate. So why didn't you take me to her? Why am I still here right now?"
Athena merely arched a brow, a soft, knowing smile touching her lips as she looked at the bewildered girl. "You truly haven't put the pieces together, have you, Amelia?" Athena asked, her voice carrying a calm, undeniable weight. "I suppose it makes sense. You were so young when you left to come down to the earthly realm, and your mistress rarely keeps more than one wolf shifter at her side. You've never seen what happens when one of her handmaidens finds love."
Athena leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the mahogany desk, her violet eyes locking onto Amelia's. "The Moon Goddess loves the wolves she created, Amelia. She always has, ever since she poured her own magic into the very first one. When her handmaidens find their mates, she doesn't stand in their way — she rejoices with them and lets them go with her blessing. But even if she wanted to keep you, the laws of the divine court are absolute. A handmaiden must remain chaste."
Amelia froze. I watched the breath catch entirely in her throat as the weight of Athena's words settled over her. A sudden, brilliant crimson rushed to her cheeks, staining her skin as she stiffened. She didn't have to say a word for me to know exactly where her mind had gone. I knew how powerful the mate bond was, and I knew exactly how long she and Luca had been together. Watching the sheer panic and embarrassment flitting across her face, the truth clicked. She wasn't a virgin anymore. By fully completing her bond and choosing her mate, she had unknowingly closed the door to Olympus—and her place by the goddess herself. "Your place isn't among the gods anymore, Amelia," Athena added softly, her gaze steady.
"So..." Luca's voice cracked, breaking the stillness. He sounded entirely breathless, like a man gripping onto a lifeline he couldn't quite believe was real. He looked between Athena and Amelia, his eyes wide and frantic. "So, she doesn't have to leave anymore? She can stay here... by my side?" Athena offered a small, almost imperceptible nod."Yes. She never has to leave — unless, of course, Alpha Kayden decides she is no longer welcome in this pack."
The moment the words left Athena's mouth, the invisible strings holding Amelia upright snapped. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed toward the floor with a sharp, choked gasp. Luca didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, crouching down and leaning toward her as he reached out to check on her—but before his hands could touch her, Amelia spoke, her voice raw and desperate. Luca froze mid‑reach, his hands hovering in the air as Amelia ignored her fall entirely, her tear‑filled eyes locking onto Kayden. "Alpha... please," she started, the words spilling out of her in a frantic, breathless rush. "I know I lied to you. I know I lied to everyone about where I came from and my origins, and I know I wasn't originally a part of this pack. But I love everyone here. I love you, and Artemis, and... and Luca. I don't want to leave. I view this pack and everyone in it as my family. Please, I don't want to leave..."
"Amelia." Kayden's voice cut through her frantic plea — firm, but surprisingly gentle. He stepped forward, looking down at the girl on the floor. "You can stop," he said, a quiet warmth softening his features. "Have you already forgotten what I told you right before you left? I told you then, and it stands now—you are always welcome here. You are and always have been a part of this pack, and nothing will ever change that. You are one of my best friends, and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise after learning the truth of who you really were." The raw sincerity in Kayden's voice dissolved the last of the fear in the room. Amelia let out a watery, breathless laugh, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks as the crushing weight of her secrets vanished for good.
With the barriers gone, Luca didn't wait another second. He closed the remaining distance between them, his arms wrapping around Amelia securely as he pulled her tightly against his chest. Amelia clung to him just as desperately, burying her face into his neck. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I watched them. The sheer joy radiating from my friends warmed something deep inside me, replacing the lingering anxiety of the day with absolute peace. I turned my head to look at Kayden. His shoulders had completely uncoiled, the harsh, defensive edge he'd been wearing gone as he watched the two of them. Stepping up to his side, I slid my arm around his waist, leaning my weight into him. Kayden didn't hesitate to pull me closer, his large hand settling against my side as he drew me firmly against him.
The scraping roll of plastic wheels against the hardwood abruptly shattered the quiet warmth that had settled over us. Every head in the room snapped toward the desk as Athena stood. She didn't look at any of us directly as she stepped around the heavy mahogany, her movements smooth and deliberate as she drifted toward the center of the room. "Well, now that we've settled that little matter," Athena said lightly, though her tone carried that unmistakable divine weight, "it is time that I take my leave. Though I still hold true to the words I gave you after the battle with the tigers came to an end. If you ever need or desire to see me again, simply call out my name, and I shall appear before you once more."
She stopped in the open space, turning back to face us fully. A sharp, amused glint danced in her violet eyes. "Do keep in mind, however... I am not a pet that will come at your every beck and call. I am a goddess, after all, and I will always do exactly as I please." She let the weight of her title hang in the air for a beat before her gaze swept over the four of us one last time. "I will be watching over you," Athena added, a cool, knowing smile touching her lips. "And I truly hope you won't disappoint me now—especially since you have managed to alter your very fates with my intervention."
As the final syllable faded, the entire room darkened as if a thick cloud had swallowed the sun. The air around Athena ignited—burning with a brilliant, concentrated violet. It didn't blind us; instead, it warped and twisted, rising into a massive, towering pillar of deep lavender and amethyst fire that danced like a wild candle flame reaching all the way to the ceiling. For a breathless second, the heat and otherworldly brilliance of her divine energy filled every corner of the office. Then, with a deafening, echoing snap—like giant fingers pinching a wick—the massive purple flame was violently snuffed out.
The light imploded inward, collapsing into a spectacular wave of thick, silvery‑lavender smoke that rushed outward across the floor like a breaking tide. Millions of tiny purple embers drifted through the air, glittering like falling stars before dissolving into nothingness. When the smoke cleared a heartbeat later, the room returned to normal. The space where she had stood was completely empty, leaving behind only a faint, crisp scent that felt like a summer storm rolling through an ancient grove—rich olive wood, sharp citrus, and a soft, fading whisper of lavender.
As the suffocating divine weight finally lifted from the office, the stunned silence broke.
Luca and Amelia let out a simultaneous, ragged sigh of relief, the last remnants of their fear melting away. Luca closed his eyes and pulled her even closer, burying his hands in her hair as he brought his lips to hers in a deep, desperate kiss that cemented her safety. Amelia melted against him, completely safe in his arms. Beside me, I felt the heavy tension drain from Kayden's frame. He tightened his strong hold around my waist, pulling me securely against his chest as if reminding himself that we had survived this, too. With a soft exhale, I turned inward, nuzzling my head into the warm crook of his neck. I let my body fully relax, settling comfortably against his side as we simply held each other, listening to the quiet, happy tears of our friends.
*
*
In a brilliant, instantaneous flash of light, Athena materialized in the center of the grand sanctuary of Olympus. The temple of the Moon Goddess Artemis was a sanctuary of eternal, luminous radiance. The entire space glowed a brilliant, cloudy white, its towering marble columns draped in shimmering silver tapestries and banners of fine silk. The delicate fabric stirred in a nonexistent breeze, catching the radiant glow and gleaming like moonlight reflected on water. Athena smoothed her attire, her cool composure settling back into place as she stood amid the silver and stone.
Her gaze drifted first toward the empty throne across the room. Plump silver pillows were scattered across the seat, slightly rumpled—as if the goddess who occupied it had only just risen moments before. Scanning the vast temple, Athena's eyes finally found the figure she sought. Standing a short distance away, looking out beyond the open edge of the sanctuary, was the goddess who ruled this domain. Her burgundy‑red hair, woven through with striking silver strands, was pulled into a high ponytail, the length brushing just above her shoulder blades. Had it been down, the vibrant locks would have cascaded well past her mid‑back. As she shifted, the temple's luminous light caught those silver strands, making them shimmer with celestial brilliance.
She stood a few inches shorter than Athena, her lean, muscled frame unmistakably that of a master archer. Her skin was a beautiful, light golden‑tan—the warm glow of a goddess who spent her eternity beneath moonlight and starlit skies. Athena closed the distance, her footsteps silent on the marble. Sensing her approach, Artemis turned her head slightly—a minimal acknowledgment—before returning her gaze to the open expanse beyond the pillars, her expression unreadable. "Was that truly necessary?" she asked softly, her voice carrying the cool, quiet resonance of the night sky.
Athena let out a soft, low chuckle, the sound rich with amusement as she stepped closer to the Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. "You are far too soft when it comes to your beloved wolves," Athena murmured, a knowing smirk curving her lips. She offered a small, dismissive wave of her hand, brushing off the accusation entirely. "Perhaps it wasn't strictly necessary. But they needed a reminder of what they would be losing to truly appreciate one another again." Her smirk widened, a playful spark glinting in her eyes. "Besides, a goddess has to keep herself entertained somehow."
Then the amusement vanished. Athena's expression smoothed into a calm, unyielding composure as she locked her gaze onto the back of the other goddess's head. Though her voice remained level—masking the lingering amusement beneath—her words carried a blunt, undeniable truth. "Though if you didn't like how I handled things," Athena said quietly, "you could have always gone down to the mortal realm and handled them yourself. Instead of just watching from up here."
The Moon Goddess sighed deeply, the sound heavy and carrying a quiet, lingering sadness. "We both know it is probably for the best that I do not get involved with them directly," she murmured, still looking out over her domain. Athena nodded slowly, her serious expression softening just a fraction in genuine agreement."True." A subtle shift went through the Moon Goddess — the heavy atmosphere lifting just enough for a hint of playfulness to creep into her voice. She tilted her head slightly back toward Athena. "Besides... wasn't it you who informed me that it would be for the best if I didn't get involved with them personally?"
Athena chuckled, a familiar glint returning to her eyes."That I did, and it still stands true. But I wasn't entirely certain you would actually adhere to my words." The Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt let out a soft, weary sigh, her shoulders dropping just a fraction as she stared out at the horizon. "I debated defying your advice a few times," she admitted quietly, her voice carrying the weight of past restraint. "But in the end... I knew it would only make things worse if I went down there myself."
She went still, the silver strands in her high ponytail catching the temple's luminous light as she spoke, gratitude mingling with the melancholy in her tone. "In the end, you were correct. Because of your counsel, everything has turned out exactly the way we intended all those years ago — back when I first came to you and begged for your help. Everything happened precisely as you said it would, following your desired outcome just as you promised all those years ago." A quiet, distinctly smug smile tugged at the corner of Athena's lips. "Of course it did," Athena murmured softly, a touch of amusement in her voice. "After all these centuries, we both know my calculations are hardly ever wrong."
Before either of them could say another word, the quiet of the temple was broken by the soft rustle of fabric. Three of Artemis's handmaidens glided through the entryway. The handmaiden walking in the center immediately caught Athena's eye. Ignoring the Goddess of Wisdom entirely, she stepped forward and addressed her mistress. "My Lady, it is getting late. It would be in your best interest to retire for the night." The Moon Goddess let out a soft sigh, but before she could answer, Athena narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice laced with quiet amusement. "I see you still have that one hanging around, sister." At the comment, the middle handmaiden turned her gaze directly to Athena. For a brief, sharp second, a flash of pure disdain—and unmistakable hatred—burned in her eyes as their gazes locked.
Artemis, noticing the sudden spike in tension, quickly waved off her older sister's remark. "Her words are correct," the Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt countered smoothly, leaning into the attendant's reminder. "It is getting late, and I shall retire for the evening." With that, Artemis turned her profile away from the horizon and began walking toward her waiting handmaidens. Athena's jaw ticked—a muscle tightening in her cheek at the dismissal—but she chose not to press the matter. "Very well then," Athena said coldly, adjusting her posture. "I shall be taking my leave." Turning her back toward Artemis, Athena began a swift, commanding stride toward the temple's exit.