CHAPTER 140: THE GODDESS ATHENA

The moment Athena stepped through the Gate, the wind stopped.

The howls ceased.

The air stilled like a held breath.

And then the world bent around her.

It began at the edge of the trees—wolves falling to their bellies. Shifting not into humans, but into their most primal forms, heads bowed, tails low, ears flat. The forest itself seemed to tremble as a low, guttural hum passed through the soil. Not a threat.

A reverence.

Lucas smiled beside her. "What the hell is happening?"

But Athena already knew.

She felt it.

The magic here didn’t resist her. It recognized her. Welcomed her like blood returned to bone.

From the thick pine beyond the clearing, a tall woman stepped forward—cloaked in pelts, her hair woven with bone charms, eyes silver as the moon. She fell to her knees.

"Goddess," the woman whispered. "We have waited."

Behind her, the wolves echoed in unison.

"Moonborn. Light-Walker. She-Who-Returns."

Athena stood still, chest tight.

They didn’t see her divinity as a threat.

They worshipped it.

Lucas whispered, stunned, "They know you."

"No," she said, her voice thin with disbelief. "They remember me."

The woman rose, reverently approaching. "You were lost to us, my Lady. The sky dimmed the night you fell. The wolves of the old blood said it was a test. That when you returned, we would know the end and the beginning were upon us."

Athena’s heartbeat slowed.

The end... and the beginning.

Just like the tree had said.

The woman bowed again. "I am Priestess Senna. High speaker of the Hollowfang Lunar Circle. You honor us with your return."

Athena swallowed. "I didn’t come as a goddess."

"You are what you are," Senna said. "Even if you do not wish to be."

She turned to her pack and raised both hands. "Let the howling begin. The Moon walks among us!"

And with that, the forest sang.

Not with music.

With devotion.

Hundreds of wolves lifted their voices to the sky, crying out not in pain or fear—but in praise. The moon above surged brighter, glowing with unnatural silver, and the wind carried whispers through the branches.

"She has returned."

"The balance will be restored."

"The first blood will burn."

Athena stood amid it all, light and shadow flickering at her fingertips—and for the first time since her transformation, she felt... whole.

Not because of power.

Because of belief.

They believed in her.

Even if she didn’t believe in herself yet.

—

That night, they brought her to the Circle.

A massive grove built in the hollow of a mountain tree whose roots glowed under moonlight. Pools of reflective water shimmered with visions of past wolf queens and Lunar Warriors. Wolves of all ranks knelt as Athena approached the altar—stone etched with crescent symbols, scarred from ancient offerings.

Senna stepped forward, holding a carved dagger of silverroot wood.

"The Rite of Reclaiming," she said. "If you speak your name beneath the moon, it shall be bound to our world again. Your worship restored. Your bloodline reborn."

Lucas stepped beside Athena quickly. "Wait—what happens if she doesn’t?"

Senna turned her pale gaze to him. "Then the world loses her again. And we fall to what is coming."

Athena stepped to the altar.

The dagger was offered to her.

Not to shed blood.

But to draw her symbol.

Her mark.

Not the golden sigil of the gods. Not the balance rune. Not the divine seal that once branded her.

She created a new one.

A crescent entwined with a rift.

The moon and the crack.

Worship and ruin.

She carved it into the altar.

And the earth responded.

The wind roared with voices. The moon flashed white, then blue, then black. Wolves dropped to their knees. Lucas stared as a glow built around her body—silver light woven with threads of void. A howling storm of power and faith spun around her, yet she stood calm in the center of it all.

"I am Athena," she said.

"I am the Moon that watches.

The Key that opens.

The Fire that remembers.

I am not what I was.

But I am still.

And I will not be forgotten again."

The wolves howled as one.

The trees pulsed with moonlight.

And the forest whispered:

"She is ours."

—

Later, Alone

Lucas found her by the edge of the pool, staring into the water. Her reflection shimmered strangely—eyes gold, wings faintly present behind her, a second face beneath hers. The shadow-self still lingered beneath the surface.

He knelt beside her.

"You okay?"

Athena didn’t look away. "They see me as divine. As sacred. But if they knew what I’ve done..."

He placed a hand over hers. "They don’t need a perfect goddess. They need you."

She finally looked at him. "And you?"

He smiled faintly. "I need you too. Not because you’re divine. Because you’re still fighting, even after everything."

Their hands stayed intertwined.

But the moment didn’t last.

A sharp crack echoed from the tree-line.

Senna appeared moments later, breathless.

"My Lady," she said, voice trembling. "The Seer has spoken again. And it’s not a prophecy. It’s a warning."

Athena stood. "Say it."

Senna swallowed. "The First One stirs. Its mind brushes ours. It has found the scent of the Moon. It’s coming here."

Lucas clenched his jaw. "How long?"

"Days. Maybe hours."

Senna turned to Athena. "We will fight for you, Goddess. Every fang. Every bone. The Wyrd still answers you. But this thing... it is older than form. Older than the Hunt."

Athena’s eyes blazed softly in the moonlight.

"Then I’ll face it as I am."

The Moon Goddess reborn.

The fracture who became flame.

The divine who walks among wolves.

And as the forest darkened, she whispered to the stars:

"Let it come."

The moon didn’t set that night.

It hovered in the sky, full and swollen, watching.

The stars pulled tighter, flickering like the realm itself was holding its breath.

And deep in the mountain-wrapped forest, the wolves gathered.

Athena stood in the center of the training ring carved into the roots of the ancient Silverfang tree. Her feet were bare against the cold earth. Her blade—half light, half shadow—rested against her spine. And before her stood warriors.

Not just wolves. Moonborns.

The fiercest of every pack. Alphas, betas, even omegas who’d shed their blood in past wars. They had fought for centuries in their own battles—but now, for the first time in history, they trained under their goddess.

"Athena," said Kaelen, the Hollowfang High Alpha, stepping beside her. "They need to see you bleed."

She turned to him, frowning. "You want me to lose?"

"I want them to know you can. That you’re one of us."

Lucas leaned against a nearby stone, arms folded. "She’s already died once for this realm. Isn’t that enough proof?"

Kaelen didn’t answer. He simply turned and gave a low whistle.

A wolf stepped into the ring.

Enormous. White as bone. Eyes like dawn. Her name was Lyra, a legendary warrior of the Icefang clan.

She bowed before Athena—but not out of submission.

Out of respect.

Athena exhaled, stepped forward, and nodded.

"I accept the challenge."

—

They moved like mirror images.

Lyra lunged with a burst of speed no mortal could track—but Athena met her strike, twisting and bringing her knee up into the wolf’s ribs. Lyra flipped midair, landing in a crouch, and slashed with claws sharpened to divine metal.

Athena bled.

Just a thin line across her cheek—but it sent a ripple through the watching crowd.

The Moon Goddess could bleed.

She didn’t falter.

She attacked.

Her blade swept through moonlight like it knew the rhythm of the stars. Lyra parried, howled, and charged again. Back and forth they fought—flame against fang, shadow against speed. Until finally, Athena disarmed her with a flick of her hand, pinning the wolf beneath her boot.

Silence followed.

Then howls erupted.

Not in rage.

In triumph.

Athena stepped back and helped Lyra up. The warrior bowed again—lower this time.

"You fight like the wild," Lyra said. "Like one of us."

Athena’s lip twitched in a smile. "I am one of you. I just forgot for a while."

Kaelen looked around the circle of warriors. "Then train her. Teach her what she once gave us. We do not fight for the Moon Goddess."

He raised his head.

"We fight with her."

And the forest thundered with howls.

—

Later That Night

Athena sat on the cliffside, overlooking the silver forest below. Lucas approached quietly, a flask in his hand. He offered it to her. She took a sip—bitter wolfroot brew. Burned like honesty.

"Why do they trust me so easily?" she asked.

"Because they were born from you," he said. "Their entire cycle is shaped by the moon. By you. You think they’re following a goddess—but they’re just answering the blood that’s always called to them."

She looked at him. "What if I fail?"

He sat beside her. "Then they’ll still fight. But it’ll hurt more."

She laughed softly—dark, tired. "Comforting."

Lucas nudged her shoulder. "You’re not alone anymore, Athena. You don’t have to be divine. You just have to stand. That’s enough for them."

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: "Will it be enough for what’s coming?"

The wind shifted.

And somewhere beyond the trees, a wolf howled.

Not from the Hollowfang. Not from any known pack.

Something older.

Something off-key.

Athena stood.

"The First One is near."

—

The Seer’s hut was lit by a single ember.

Athena knelt before her, the rest of the room quiet. Kaelen, Senna, Lyra, and Lucas stood behind her.

The Seer’s eyes rolled back as her mouth moved in a trance.

"You will meet the First One beneath the blood moon. It will not come in rage. It will come in recognition. It will not speak. But you will hear. And when it opens its eye—do not look away."

Athena’s hands curled into fists.

"What happens if I do?"

"You become what it was. And it becomes what you were."

Senna gasped.

"A soul for a soul," said the Seer. "A goddess for a gate."

Lucas stepped forward. "Then we don’t let her go alone."

But Athena stood.

"No," she said. "This is between me and it."

Kaelen nodded solemnly. "Then we will guard the border. We will hold the Wyrd line. You hold the rift."

—

The forest turned black as ink.

The moon began to bleed.

It wasn’t red.

It was draining—like something was pulling the light from it. Stripping it bare.

And at the farthest edge of the Hollowfang land, where the veil between worlds was thinnest, the trees bent backward. Time warped. Space cracked.

A tear opened.

And something crawled through.

Not a monster.

Not a beast.

A wolf.

But not of this world.

Massive, furless, eyes glowing like dying suns. Its body flickered—part reality, part memory. Its breath turned the grass to ash. Its voice wasn’t sound—but thought.

Athena. Moonborn. Returner.

Athena stepped into the circle of stones alone.

"I am not yours."

You were always mine. The moment you looked inward. The moment you feared yourself. I am the fear that made you burn.

"I carry that fear," she said.

And her body ignited.

Not in fire.

In truth.

Wings unfurled.

The crescent mark blazed on her chest.

Shadow and light twined into armor around her limbs.

The wolf stepped closer.

Then carry me too.

The sky split.

And the First One opened its eye.

Black.

Limitless.

Hungry.

Athena met its gaze.

And did not look away.

The air screamed.

The trees wept blood.

The stars dimmed—

—and then exploded with silver light.

The eye shattered.

The First One reeled.

And Athena, voice shaking, whispered: "You’re not the first."

She raised her blade.

The wolves howled.

And the battle began.