Something deep inside me.

A pressure. A force. Like an unseen hand pressing against my ribs, pushing, demanding to be released.

My heartbeat roared in my ears. My vision blurred at the edges, pulsing with an eerie glow. The air crackled around me, thick with something otherworldly.

I gasped.

The Celestians flinched.

Some of them screeched—a sound that wasn’t just fear, but something else. A warning. They flapped their wings frantically, cawing and shrieking to one another as if they were speaking—

"There she is."

"The threat!"

"The one who should not exist!"

The wolf snarled beside me, fur bristling, but I barely heard it.

Because the Celestians—

They were fleeing.

One by one, they shrieked and shot into the sky, their once-ruthless formation breaking into chaos. Wings flapped wildly, talons curled inward as if to ward off something unseen.

They didn’t just retreat.

They ran as if they were terrified.

And it wasn’t the wolf.

It was me.

My breath came in sharp gasps, my hands trembling as the unseen pressure inside me finally settled.

What…

What just happened?

I staggered back, heart pounding. My fingers curled into the dirt, desperate for something real, something solid.

No magic had come. No divine burst of power to smite my enemies.

And yet, I had done something.

Something that made the Celestians run like cowards.

I swallowed hard, staring up at the empty sky where the creatures had vanished. The only sounds left were the rustling of trees and the ragged breathing of the wolf beside me.

"Who am I?" I whispered.

But the night had no answer.

By the time the last Celestian fell, the wolf had collapsed beside me, panting heavily.

I wasn’t a healer. Hell, I could barely bandage my own scrapes without making a mess. But I knew enough about first aid to stop this creature from bleeding out.

"Alright, big guy," I muttered, scanning the ground for anything useful. Herbs, herbs—where were the damn herbs? There—scattered nearby, some with healing properties I vaguely remembered from my mother’s teachings.

I reached for them, but the wolf let out a low, warning growl.

I froze. Oh, so now it wants to act tough?

"Listen," I huffed, pointing a very unimpressed finger at the massive beast. "You can either let me help you, or you can bleed out and die a dramatic, painful death. Your choice."

The wolf’s ears twitched. It gave me a long, measured look.

Then, to my utter disbelief, it lowered its head.

I blinked. Wait… that actually worked?

Wasting no time, I ripped the bottom of my already-ruined skirt and used it to wrap the herbs against the wound, pressing firmly to stop the bleeding. The wolf flinched but didn’t snap at me. Instead, it just… watched.

With unnervingly intelligent eyes.

Like it was trying to figure me out.

Great. Now I had one more being questioning my existence.

"You better be grateful," I grumbled under my breath. "I don’t usually go around patching up mysterious, oversized wolves in haunted forests. You’re lucky I have a soft spot for strays."

A soft, amused huff escaped the beast’s nose.

Wait. Did it just—

Before I could process the fact that the wolf had laughed at me, a deep voice cut through the trees.

"Is telling you to stay in your chambers not enough, or are you just incapable of following orders?"

The words sliced through the air like a blade.

I stiffened, my hands still pressed against the wolf’s wound. That voice—I knew it too well.

Slowly, I turned my head.

Zagan stood at the edge of the clearing, towering, imposing, and very, very unamused. The faint glow of the firefly-like lights cast flickering shadows across his sharp features, doing nothing to soften the sheer intensity of his gaze.

His arms were crossed, his stance relaxed, but there was something about him that made my stomach coil with unease. Or maybe it was something else entirely, because damn, he still looked ridiculously good while exuding pure disapproval.

Oh great. Here comes the scolding.

Zagan let out a slow exhale, as if my mere presence exhausted him. "Do you have a death wish, or are you just naturally this hardheaded?"

I huffed, wiping my hands on my ruined skirt. "I have a very strong survival instinct, thank you very much."

His crimson-galaxy eyes flicked over the fallen Celestians, the blood staining the ground, and the wolf barely clinging to consciousness beside me. His gaze returned to mine, unreadable. Calculating.

Then, another sigh.

A long, drawn-out sigh that screamed I don’t have the patience for this without him even saying it.

I narrowed my eyes. Oh no. No way. He does not get to be the one who’s tired here.

"Are you seriously sighing at me right now?" I pointed an accusing finger at him. "I just fought off a whole flock of Celestians, saved an innocent creature, and somehow still look—" I gestured to my dirt-covered self, "—well, alive! And you're the one sighing?"

Zagan stared. Unmoved. Unimpressed.

"Yes," he said flatly. "Because dealing with you requires more patience than battling an army."

I gasped, clutching my chest dramatically. "How dare—!"

Still, nothing. No amusement. Not even the tiniest twitch of his lips.

Infuriating.

But also… ugh. Why does he have to look good while being insufferable?

How did one man remain so impossibly emotionless?

Slowly, I lifted my head. There he stood, tall and imposing as ever, his silhouette carved against the eerie glow of the firefly-like lights. The soft luminescence caught the sharp angles of his jawline, casting fleeting shadows over his impossibly perfect features. And those eyes—deep violet with swirling galaxies trapped within—were as mesmerizing as they were infuriating. No one that aggravating had any right to look that good.

But he wasn’t looking at me.

His galaxy-hued eyes, swirling with deep violets and flecks of silver, flickered over the fallen Celestians, tracing the remnants of their hasty retreat. Something unreadable passed through his gaze—calculating, assessing—before they finally locked onto mine, pinning me in place with an intensity that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.There was a pause.

A long, suffocating pause.

Then, a smirk.

And with an infuriatingly calm voice, he said—

"So, which one was it?"

I blinked. "...What?"

He took a slow step forward. "Which one are you responsible for?"

I scowled. "Excuse me?"

"Attracting them," he drawled, eyes glinting with mocking amusement, "or scaring them away?"

Oh. Oh, this smug little—

"Would you believe me if I said both?" I shot back, throwing my arms up dramatically.

Zagan just stared.

Expressionless. Unmoved.

Like my entire existence was some minor inconvenience.

How. How did he do that? How could someone be so unreadable? So detached? What was he—a rock?

A very large, very infuriatingly sculpted, hot rock.

I internally groaned. No. No, I was not going down that road. This man was insufferable. His handsomeness should be illegal.

He strode forward, gaze locking onto the wolf. But instead of hostility, something else flickered across his face.

He smirked. "Onyx."

The massive black wolf’s ears perked up at the name, tail giving a weak wag despite its injuries.

Onyx? This was his wolf?

Zagan turned to me, his galaxy-hued eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Thank you for saving him. But if there's anyone I plan on killing tonight... it’s you."

My lips pressed into a tight line. "Is this your way of showing gratitude?"

Zagan exhaled sharply. Then, his expression hardened. "You shouldn't be here."

I stepped forward. "I can help you. I can fight. I—"

"You don’t know what you're talking about." His voice was cold. "A lady like you belongs in the capital. You belong in silks, sitting pretty, waiting to be wed."

Anger surged through me. My fists clenched.

"I would rather die in honor than at the hands of a traitor."

Something in his expression shifted. Just for a moment.

And in that moment, I knew I had struck a nerve.

His gaze flicked to the injured wolf at my side, then back to me. "And Onyx?"

I folded my arms. "What about him?"

"You’re helping him?" His tone remained unreadable.

I huffed. "No, I’m obviously performing a sacrificial ritual to summon even more Celestians. Thought it’d be fun."

Still. No reaction.

I squinted at him. Was he even human?

Zagan exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "You really are trouble."

I jabbed a finger at him. "And you are the definition of emotionally constipated!"

Silence.

Then—

A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his brow.

Victory.

But before I could celebrate, he simply turned on his heel, motioning for me to follow. "Come."

I scoffed, mumbling under my breath as I hoisted myself up. "Wow. What an invitation. I feel so special."

Still nothing.

Zagan remained as cold and unbothered as ever.

I swore, if I ever found the key to unlocking a single real emotion on his face, I was keeping it.

But for now?

I had a wolf to carry and a stubborn war god to deal with.

The moment he uttered the word come, I knew it.

This is perfect.

An opportunity like this was rare, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.

Seduction plan: activated.

I sauntered after Zagan, making sure my steps were slow and deliberate. Every ounce of charm I could muster, I poured into my movements—the graceful tilt of my chin, the way my fingers lightly trailed over my collarbone, even the occasional, perfectly-timed sigh.

Not that he noticed.

Zagan walked ahead, rigid as ever, not sparing me a single glance.

Okay. Maybe he needs a little push.

I quickened my pace, falling into step beside him. “You know,” I began, voice silkier than usual, “I’ve always admired strong men.”

Nothing.

I tried again. “Especially men who know how to command a woman.”

Still. Nothing.

Was this man human?

I shifted closer, brushing my fingers ever so slightly against his arm. “It must be exhausting, being so powerful. Surely, you must long for a moment of comfort.”

He didn’t stop walking. Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he exhaled, tone as dry as ever. “You are persistent.”

“Yes,” I purred. “Very.”

“Unfortunate.”

I nearly tripped.

Unfortunate?!

I scowled but quickly schooled my features back into something enticing. This wasn’t over.

We reached the hallway leading to his chambers, the flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows along the stone walls. I tilted my head, letting my hair cascade over one shoulder. “You know, Zagan, a man like you—”

But then I noticed it.

His breathing was heavier than before, his steps slower, his usual sharp precision faltering.

Wait.

A few more paces, and I could see it clearly. The slight tremor in his fingers. The barely noticeable sheen of sweat forming at his temple.

Zagan. The unshakable, untouchable War God… was struggling.

By the time we reached his chamber doors, he came to a halt, gripping the handle. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and his knuckles had turned white.

Then, for the first time tonight, his mask cracked.

A sharp inhale. A slow, steadying exhale. But even that wasn’t enough to hide the way his shoulders trembled slightly.

“You’re poisoned,” I realized, heart lurching.

Zagan pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s fine.”

It was not fine.

He barely made it inside before his legs gave out.

I caught him—or, well, tried to. The weight of a warlord collapsing was not something my arms were prepared for, and together, we half-stumbled, half-crashed onto the edge of his bed.

Panic gripped me. I pressed my hand against his forehead. Burning. Too warm.

I scanned his face—his breathing had become shallower, his normally intimidating presence diminished.

Zagan had never been an easy man to deal with.

That much, I knew.

But I didn’t expect him to be this stubborn while actively dying.

I had half a mind to strangle him myself as I struggled to keep him upright. He was burning up, his breath uneven, his weight pressing against me as I tried to keep him conscious. But even now, he refused to make it easy.

Think, Thalia.

I turned his face toward me, forcing his glazed-over purple eyes to meet mine. “What did you take? What poison?”

He exhaled slowly, like the mere act of speaking was an effort. “Nightshade extract.”

My stomach dropped.

“Nightshade? That’s lethal in high doses!” My voice pitched, but I didn’t care. “How much?”

His eyelids fluttered. “Enough.”

Enough to kill him.