CHAPTER 146: BETWEEN FANG AND FLAME

The night air outside the Moon Palace tasted like steel and storm.

Lucas stood at the outer watchtower, eyes scanning the black forest where the winds whispered of something ancient moving in the dark. Cassius joined him moments later, wordless, his armor still half-buckled from a rushed call to arms.

Neither acknowledged the other.

Not at first.

But then, the horn blew once.

A threat was coming.

And the only thing between it and Athena... was them.

"She’s not to leave the tower," Lucas said coolly, not bothering to look at Cassius.

"She won’t," Cassius replied, equally cold. "Not if I’m breathing."

Lucas scoffed under his breath. "Barely, with the way Markus nearly crushed your ribs."

Cassius turned, sharp-eyed. "You’ve got a hell of a way of saying thank you."

"I didn’t ask you to be here."

"No," Cassius said with a dark smile. "But she did."

Silence. Thick and sharp.

Their eyes locked.

The words unsaid were louder than the ones spoken.

A blur of shadow streaked from the trees—fangs, talons, magic. Not a rogue wolf. Something older. A wraith-wolf, formed of bone and silver flame, summoned by forbidden rituals.

It roared as it leapt from the treeline.

Lucas spun his blade from his back. Cassius ignited his fists with the goddess’s light.

Together, they charged.

Lucas slashed low; Cassius struck high. The beast swiped across Cassius’s chest, but Lucas lunged from behind and severed its back limb.

It screamed—a haunting, unnatural sound.

A second creature emerged from the trees.

Two now.

Still, they didn’t retreat.

They stood—shoulder to shoulder, bloodied, breathing hard, refusing to fall.

They fought like opposites forged by the same fire.

Lucas moved like ice—precise, efficient, unforgiving.

Cassius was wildfire—furious, raw, and overwhelming.

Together, they were a storm.

The second beast fell, gurgling into ash.

And only when the forest fell quiet again did the silence between them return.

Lucas knelt, cleaning blood from his blade. "You still love her."

Cassius didn’t deny it. "I always will."

Lucas looked up, eyes calm but cold. "She’s not yours."

"She’s not yours either."

That hit harder than any blade.

Lucas stood. "If you can’t put your feelings aside, she’ll die. She’s not just some girl anymore—she’s the Moon Goddess reborn."

Cassius’s jaw clenched. "You think I don’t know that? I bled for her before you even knew her name."

Lucas stepped closer. "Then bleed for her again without making it about you."

Cassius stared at him.

Then gave a slow nod.

The wind shifted.

Athena’s energy pulsed from the palace in the distance. She was watching. Or maybe just sensing.

Lucas turned back toward the palace. "There’s more coming."

Cassius sighed. "Of course there is."

They stood side by side again.

Enemies.

Brothers-in-arms.

And perhaps—one day—friends.

But not yet.

The storm rolled in slow, thunder like a grieving heartbeat in the distance.

Cassius stood alone in the training yard, bare-chested, bruised from the last skirmish. His blade rested at his feet. He hadn’t moved in over ten minutes. Just breathing. Staring at the moon.

He knew she’d come.

And she did.

"Athena," he said, without turning. Her name was both a reverence and a wound.

"Why are you avoiding me?" she asked softly, arms crossed over the sheer robe that clung to her skin in the rising wind. "You’ve been silent since the attack."

"I needed space."

She stepped closer. "Is that your way of saying you regret protecting me?"

His jaw clenched. "Don’t twist it."

"Then say what you mean."

He turned to face her—and gods, her face nearly broke him. So beautiful. So fierce. The girl he once knew and the goddess she now was, burning together in one body.

"You think this is easy for me?" he asked, voice low. "Watching you every day, standing beside him, wearing power like it doesn’t weigh a thousand scars?"

Athena blinked. "Lucas—"

"This isn’t about Lucas," he snapped, then exhaled, softer. "Not just about him."

She stepped forward. "Then what is it about, Cassius?"

He looked down, unable to hold her gaze. "It’s about what I’ve become. What you have become."

"I remember you, Athena," he said, voice rough. "Before the war. Before the wolves. When you still laughed with your whole chest and danced barefoot in the temple gardens. I remember the girl who healed injured birds with her tears."

She smiled faintly. "And I remember the boy who snuck honey cakes into my room during fasting."

He chuckled once. "I’m not that boy anymore."

"And I’m not that girl. But I still—"

"Don’t." He turned, almost as if the word burned his throat. "Don’t say you still feel something. Because if you do, I will never be able to walk away."

Silence.

Then, softly: "Then don’t walk away."

Her words twisted around his ribs.

"I can’t stay," he said finally, his voice trembling. "Because I’m not strong enough to love you silently. Not when he gets to touch you. Protect you. Kiss you. I see it in your eyes, Athena—you’re in love with him."

She looked away, guilt swimming through her. "It’s not that simple."

"Yes, it is," he said. "Because it has to be. You were reborn with purpose. You carry divine weight now. And me?" He laughed bitterly. "I’m just a soldier who should’ve died with the old world."

"Don’t say that," she said, stepping close, gripping his forearm. "You’re more than that. You matter."

His voice cracked. "But not enough to be yours."

He gently took her hand from his arm and held it for a moment—his thumb brushing over her knuckles like a goodbye.

"I’ll ask to be reassigned," he said.

"Somewhere far. I’ll still fight for you. I’ll die for you if needed. But I can’t stay by your side and pretend that every heartbeat isn’t torture."

Tears welled in her eyes. "You’re running."

"I’m surviving."

"No, you’re breaking us."

"There was no ’us’ left when the gods chose you, Athena. I just forgot to let go."

He kissed her forehead—tender, reverent, final.

And then he left.

No backward glance.

Athena stood in the middle of the empty yard long after he was gone.

The wind carried the last of his warmth away, and the moon above seemed quieter than usual.

Somewhere in the dark, Lucas stood watching from the tower, unreadable.

And in her chest...

A crack formed wide enough to swallow the stars.

The wind howled through the moonlit corridors of the fortress, but Athena’s fury was louder.

She stormed through the stone halls barefoot, her steps echoing like war drums, hair loose, face streaked with tears she hadn’t asked for.

She found him where she knew he’d be—the highest tower, the one place he thought no one could reach. He was standing at the ledge, arms crossed, moonlight washing over his face like judgment.

He didn’t turn when she entered.

That made it worse.

"You watched," Athena hissed. "The entire time. You stood there like some silent shadow while I shattered."

Lucas said nothing.

"I felt you," she growled. "The bond doesn’t lie. You were there."

"I was," he finally said, voice like granite. "What did you expect me to do?"

She laughed—sharp, broken. "I don’t know. Say something. Stop him. Stop me."

He turned now, slowly, and the look on his face wasn’t rage. It was grief.

"You were saying goodbye to someone you loved," he said simply. "What right do I have to interfere in that?"

Athena took a step closer, eyes wild with emotion. "You had every right, Lucas. You’re my mate."

"And yet you didn’t say his name like it was wrong," Lucas replied quietly. "You touched him like you still belonged there."

"I didn’t belong anywhere in that moment," she said, chest heaving. "I was bleeding and you watched me bleed."

He stepped down from the ledge, walking toward her slowly. "I watched you choose."

"Choose what?" she barked. "There was no choice—just history. Just pain."

"You still love him," he said, voice like a wound.

"And I love you too," she snapped. "Do you think hearts are neat? That they pick one name and forget the rest?"

He looked away.

"I don’t want a part of you, Athena," he said, voice rough. "I want the whole damn war."