CHAPTER 141: RETURNING TO THE WEREWOLF WWORLD

The skies pulsed violet.

Above the jagged cliffs of the Ancients’ Cross, the heavens cracked open not with lightning, but with raw, divine tension. Wind howled in wide, angry arcs, and at the center of the storm stood Athena. Her silver hair snapped around her like lashes of moonlight, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural light. Her bare feet gripped the rock as if the earth itself steadied her.

Across from her stood the First One—the original devourer, a beast cloaked in shadows older than time, his form warped by centuries of hunger. His twisted wolf shape reeked of magic and rot, with horns curving out of a snout lined with obsidian fangs.

He moved like smoke and thunder.

"You’ve returned to your true self," the First One growled, voice layered with the echoes of every soul he had consumed. "Goddess of the Moon. You should never have awakened."

Athena narrowed her eyes. "You should never have survived."

They clashed.

Faster than thought, Athena dove forward. The wind followed her like a blade. She struck low, flipping over the ground, calling on a pulse of the moon buried inside her ribcage. A blinding burst of silver exploded from her hands and met black fire mid-air.

The First One staggered.

But he grinned, jagged and wide.

"You’re still learning, little goddess," he snarled, wings erupting from his back, feathered with bones and dripping shadow. "Let me teach you what it means to be prey."

He lunged.

The ground split as his claws dug into it, closing the space between them. Athena twisted, spinning just in time, her fingers summoning a crescent of moonlight that solidified into a shield. The impact sent her skidding back, boots scraping stone, teeth gritted as her arms trembled beneath the force.

She dropped to one knee.

But she didn’t break.

"I am not prey," she said, and her voice thundered across the cliffs. "I am the moon."

Behind her, the cliffs shimmered. The stars in the sky seemed to freeze. And one by one, silver runes lit up beneath her feet. Old words. Goddess marks. They etched into the rock like memory—words in the original tongue of wolves and gods.

The First One’s smile faltered.

"You remember the language," he hissed.

"I remember everything."

Athena rose, and this time, she didn’t need her fists.

She lifted one hand to the moon.

A spear of light arced down like a comet. She caught it midair—translucent, humming, and cold. The power surged into her veins like ice and storm.

With a cry that shook the mountains, she hurled it at him.

It tore through his chest.

The First One screamed. The sound was not just pain—it was the unraveling of centuries. Shadows peeled off him like flesh, revealing the twisted remains of the mortal he once was. For a moment, he looked almost human—lost, afraid, ancient.

But his rage refused to die.

He launched himself toward her with final desperation. Flames of corrupted starlight flared from his claws. He brought them down like a scythe.

Athena didn’t move.

A dome of moonlight burst around her. The claws struck and shattered, pieces of burning bone scattering like meteors.

He fell to his knees.

"End me," he choked, blood black as oil spilling from his lips. "I’ve waited for you to return...just to end me."

Athena walked to him slowly. Her silver eyes dimmed to something gentler, but not forgiving. She knelt in front of him, brushing a strand of hair from his ruined face.

"You were once my child," she said softly. "A protector of the balance."

His eyes widened. Something human flickered in them.

"I forgot," he whispered.

And then he exhaled for the last time.

His body dissolved—not into dust or rot—but into particles of white mist, like a star collapsing. The wind took him.

Silence returned.

Then, a whisper. Not from any throat, but from the cliffs, the skies, the trees.

"She has returned."

Athena turned.

And saw them.

Thousands.

They stepped out from the shadows of the woods, from cracks in the rocks, from behind time itself. Shifters. Wolves. Spirits in cloaks of moon-colored fur. They knelt in unison. They bowed—not in fear, but in reverence.

Her breath caught.

One stepped forward. A regal she-wolf with white-gold eyes and scars across her face. "We have waited, my Lady. We remember the old ways. We remember you."

Athena said nothing at first. Her heart thudded loud and uneven. She felt like two people inside one soul—the mortal girl who had been betrayed by her king, and the goddess who had shaped tides and pulled the stars.

"I am Athena," she said at last. "And I return not to rule, but to restore."

A great howl rose in answer.

Behind her, a presence approached.

She didn’t need to turn.

"Lucas," she said.

He stopped at her side. His face was unreadable, but something deep swam in his eyes—relief, grief, awe.

"You were magnificent," he whispered.

She looked at him then, for real.

Blood smeared his jaw. His armor was scorched. And yet, in that moment, he looked younger—like the boy who once believed she could save the world.

"Are you here to stop me?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I’m here to follow."

Her throat tightened.

She nodded once, then extended her hand. "Then let’s go home."

Lucas opened the portal with an ancient sigil carved into his palm. The gate shimmered—gold and silver, twin energies twisting like rivers.

Athena hesitated.

The other side of the portal glowed with distant trees, starless skies, and the scent of wolves.

"You’re not afraid?" Lucas asked.

Athena smiled faintly. "I was always meant to return."

They stepped through.

The air shifted. The energy in the world was...familiar. Heavier. Older.

They arrived in the heart of the werewolf realm—on the plains of Silverthorn, where the Moonstone once stood.

The moment Athena’s foot touched the ground, the sky bent.

A thousand wolves howled across the territories.

The land itself felt her.

She didn’t say a word. Didn’t summon lightning or show teeth.

And still—they felt it.

The Moon Goddess had returned.

The temple air was thick with incense and silence.

Soft candlelight spilled over ancient stone, dancing across runes carved into the floor centuries ago. Beyond the high archways, wolves gathered in reverent silence. Not speaking. Not breathing too loud.

Because inside the temple...

Cassius had awakened.

Athena stood just beyond the threshold.

She had stood there for hours, unmoving, as if unsure whether stepping in would break something sacred. Her heartbeat was steady, but her fingers wouldn’t stop twitching.

Lucas stood beside her. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Finally, Athena exhaled and stepped inside.

The heavy wooden doors closed behind her.

The scent hit her first—pine resin, blood, and something cold, ancient, untouched by time.

Cassius lay on a stone cot, half-upright now, propped on one arm. His body was still healing, covered in half-faded runes from the healers’ magic, scars tracing his bronze skin like constellations. His wolf eyes—golden and clear—met hers the moment she entered.

He said nothing.

Neither did she.

Her steps were slow, deliberate. Like she was walking through a dream. Or a memory. The last time she saw him, he’d been broken—bleeding in her arms, whispering for her to run before the King’s sword came down. She’d fled through fire, her soul shattered, believing him dead.

And now—

"You’re real," Cassius said softly.

His voice was deeper. Rougher. Like it had crawled out of a grave.

Athena nodded. "You are too."

He tried to smile, but it faltered.

"I thought I dreamed you," he said. "That last night. You were glowing. You held the sky in your hands."

"I did." Her voice cracked. "I didn’t know what I was. Not then."

His eyes sharpened. "But you do now."

A silence fell between them—heavy, stretching like a blade between old wounds.

Cassius sat straighter, wincing slightly. "They call you the Moon Goddess now. They say you killed the First One. That the stars bowed when you walked back into this world."

"I didn’t want any of it," she said. "But it was always part of me."

He looked at her then—not as a god, not as a savior, but as the girl he once loved. The girl he’d bled for. Protected. Trusted.

"Where did you go, Athena?" His voice wasn’t angry. Just tired. "Why didn’t you come back sooner?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came. She swallowed hard.

"I was thrown into another realm," she said. "Trapped. Betrayed. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know what I was capable of. And by the time I remembered..."

"I was already dead to you," Cassius finished for her.

"No," she said fiercely, stepping forward. "You were never dead to me. Not for a second."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "I searched for you in every world I landed in. I tried to find the old path back. But time moved differently there. Years passed. And I wasn’t strong enough to break through."

Cassius looked away.

The pain in his chest was deeper than wounds.

"I waited for you," he murmured. "I kept believing you’d come back. Even when they dragged my body into this temple and said I wouldn’t last the night... I waited."

Athena walked the final steps and stood in front of him.

"You shouldn’t have had to."

"I would’ve done it a thousand times over."

His words were soft, but they broke something in her.

Tears welled in her eyes.

"I failed you," she whispered.

Cassius reached up slowly. His fingers brushed her cheek—just once. His touch was warm, calloused, achingly familiar.

"You didn’t fail me," he said. "You became something more."

Her tears fell, but she smiled through them. "You always believed in me."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I told the pack once: that girl’s going to shake the stars one day."

"They laughed at you," she said, remembering.

"Let them. I was right."

For a moment, they stood in that fragile place between past and present. Between the weight of what they’d been, and the reality of what they’d become.

Athena stepped back, just enough to breathe.

"Things are changing, Cassius," she said quietly. "The balance is shifting. The Ancients are stirring. I’ve awakened powers that haven’t walked these lands in centuries."

"And you need your warriors," he said. "You need me."

"I need my friend," she said.

His expression changed, something flickering behind his golden eyes. Pain? Disappointment? Acceptance?

"Just a friend?"

Athena hesitated.

Then nodded.

Cassius looked away. "Then I’ll serve as one. Until my last breath."

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She just knelt in front of him and bowed her head—Moon Goddess or not.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Always."

Later, as night fell and the stars returned to their rightful alignment, Athena stood atop the cliffs behind the temple. The wind whipped around her, carrying scents of pine, rain, and distant howls.

Lucas joined her silently.

"You saw him?" he asked.

She nodded.

Lucas didn’t say anything else for a while. Then:

"Do you still love him?"

Athena didn’t flinch. "I loved the man he was. Fiercely. Innocently. Before everything burned."

"And now?"

She turned to face him. "Now... I love the world he helped protect. And I love the version of me he helped believe I could be."

Lucas looked at her—careful, quiet. "And what about us?"

Athena’s breath caught. The wind died.

"I don’t know what we are," she admitted. "Not yet. But I trust you. That means something."

"It means everything," he said.

They stood together, looking out across the valley. Below, wolves trained under moonlight. Healers lit lanterns. Warriors carved new sigils.