Chapter 102

The meal finished in comfortable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts about the coming days. As they dispersed, Achilles caught Shea's arm gently.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested, his voice low. "Clear our heads before tomorrow."

Shea nodded, grateful for the chance to escape the mansion's walls. They slipped out through the back door, following a narrow path that wound through the manicured gardens before disappearing into the woods beyond.

The evening air carried a hint of autumn crispness, rustling the leaves overhead. Shea breathed deeply, letting the scent of pine and earth fill her lungs. Her muscles still ached from training, but the discomfort had faded to a dull background sensation.

"You were incredible today," Achilles said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "I've never seen anyone adapt so quickly."

Shea smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had a good teacher."

"It's more than that." He stopped walking, turning to face her. The fading sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across his features. "Your father's blood runs strong in you, but there's something else—something uniquely yours."

His eyes held hers, intense and searching. Shea felt her heartbeat quicken under his gaze.

"Do you think we can win this?" she asked quietly. "Be honest with me."

Achilles considered her question, his expression serious. "I think with you, we have a chance. Without you..." He shook his head slightly. "The balance of power has been shifting for years. This might be our only opportunity to restore it."

They resumed walking, their shoulders occasionally brushing. The path narrowed as they ventured deeper into the woods, forcing them closer together.

"I keep thinking about what your father said," Shea admitted. "About the ritual requiring blood sacrifice. What if—"

"Don't," Achilles interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "We'll find another way."

"But what if there isn't one?" Shea stopped, turning to face him. "What if someone has to die to end this?"

The question hung between them, heavy with implication. Achilles's jaw tightened, a muscle working in his cheek.

"Then it won't be you," he said finally, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Shea reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I won't let it be you either."

Achilles caught her hand, pressing it against his cheek. The gesture was tender, almost reverent. For a moment, they stood frozen in the gathering twilight, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

A twig snapped somewhere in the distance, breaking the spell. Achilles tensed, his senses immediately alert. He pulled Shea closer, his body angled protectively in front of hers.

"Probably just a deer," Shea whispered, but she felt her own muscles tense in response.

Achilles shook his head slightly, his eyes scanning the darkening woods. "Let's head back," he said quietly.

They retraced their steps more quickly, Achilles's hand firmly clasped around Shea's. The peaceful atmosphere had vanished, replaced by a tense vigilance that had become all too familiar.

As they approached the mansion, Shea noticed Marcus standing on the back terrace, his silhouette stark against the warm light spilling from inside. He straightened as they emerged from the tree line.

"Lucius wants us in the study," he called, his voice carrying easily across the garden. "New information."

Achilles exchanged a quick glance with Shea before they hurried forward. Inside, they found Lucius bent over an ancient-looking map spread across his desk. Lyra stood nearby, her expression troubled.

"What is it?" Achilles asked, closing the study door behind them.

Lucius looked up, his eyes grave. "Our spy in the Hawkins faction has confirmed the location of the ritual site." He gestured to the map. "It's not what we expected."

Shea moved closer, studying the yellowed parchment. It showed the familiar outline of Lockewood, with various markings that she didn't recognize scattered across it.

"The original texts mentioned a cave system," Lucius continued, tracing a line across the map. "But according to our information, Donovan plans to conduct the ritual here." His finger tapped a spot marked with a faded symbol.

Marcus leaned in, his brow furrowed. "That's the old Lockewood cemetery."

"Precisely," Lucius said grimly. "Where the town's founders are buried—including the original members of all eight factions."

"Why there?" Lyra asked, her usual playfulness absent. "The caves would offer more protection, more privacy."

"Because the ritual requires more than just Shea's blood," Lucius replied. "It needs to be performed on consecrated ground where the original pact was sealed."

Achilles's hand found Shea's, squeezing gently. "When?"

"Three nights from now," Lucius said. "During the blood moon."

The room fell silent as they absorbed this information. Shea felt a chill run down her spine despite the warmth of the study.

"So we have three days to prepare," she said finally, her voice steadier than she felt.

Lucius nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "Three days to master abilities that most werewolves spend years perfecting."

"She can do it," Achilles said firmly.

"I know she can," Lucius agreed. "But there's something else you should all understand." He straightened, his expression solemn. "The ritual Donovan plans to perform isn't just about power—it's about rewriting the very foundations of our existence."

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked.

"If he succeeds, he won't just control the other factions," Lucius explained. "He'll be able to determine who can shift and who can't. He could strip entire bloodlines of their abilities—or grant them to those who've never had them."

"He'd create his own army," Achilles realized, his voice tight.

"Worse," Lucius said. "He'd become something akin to a god among werewolves."

Shea felt the weight of their gazes turn to her. The pressure of what was at stake settled on her shoulders like a physical burden.

"Then we stop him," she said simply.

Achilles's grip on her hand tightened. "Together."

Lucius nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Together," he agreed. "But first, we need to understand exactly what we're facing." He pulled an ancient, leather-bound book from beneath the map. "This contains the original text of the ritual Donovan plans to use."

He opened it carefully, the brittle pages crackling under his touch. "Study it. Learn it. And then we'll find a way to disrupt it."

As the others gathered around the book, Shea felt a strange calm settle over her. Three days to prepare for a battle that would determine the future of all werewolves. Three days to master powers she was only beginning to understand.

Three days that would change everything.