Chapter 233

A few weeks had passed since the birth, and the world had settled into something like peace.

They had been good weeks. Sweet weeks. The kind of weeks you did not appreciate until they were gone. The cubs had grown, filling out, their little faces brightening, their eyes learning to focus, their tiny hands learning to grab. Aevrik was the loudest, always demanding, always hungry. Saelira was the calm one, watching the world with her father’s golden eyes. Zorren was a terror, already trying to roll over before he was ready. And little Nyvara, the youngest, was never happy unless she was in someone’s arms, preferably her father’s.

Aureon was a different male now. Softer. Fuller. He carried his cubs everywhere, sang to them, talked to them, showed them the world one small thing at a time. He had waited so long for this, and now that it was here, he was determined to savor every second.

The older children doted on them. Levy had appointed herself chief sister and spent hours holding the babies, cooing and singing. The boys took turns carrying them around the yard. Even the little ones, the pups and the pearlings, gathered around the basket to stare with wide eyes.

And for a few weeks, there was peace.

And then the letter came.

It arrived on an ordinary morning, carried by a hawk that landed in the yard with a flutter of wings. It was the same as before, the same crude script, the same mark of Darius burned into the hide. But the words were different this time. Shorter. Sharper. And they made my blood run cold.

He is on the move. Three days out. Come now.

Three days.

I read it aloud to my mates, standing in the main room, the whole family gathered around. And when I finished, the room went quiet.

"Then we go," Leon said.

"We go," Ravin agreed.

And we began to prepare.

It was fast. Too fast. There was no time for a slow goodbye, no time for lingering. We packed what we could carry, gathered what we needed, made our plans in clipped voices and hurried words. The children would stay. That was the first decision, the hardest one, the one that made my chest ache. They would stay with Lisa and Raon, safe in the village, far from the fighting.

But when the older boys heard, they protested.

"We want to come," Atlas said, stepping forward, his jaw set.

"Us too," Ryder said.

"And us," Chase and Jasper added together.

"You are too young," I said.

"We are grown," Atlas argued. "We are eighteen. We have trained our whole lives. We can fight."

"You can," I agreed. "But someone must stay with the little ones."

And then I told them.

"You must stay with your younger siblings," I said, my voice firm. "All of them are too young to protect themselves. The pups, the pearlings, the little tiger cubs, the serpent children, the cheetah boys. They need someone strong. Someone they trust. Someone who will keep them safe if anything goes wrong here."

"But Mother—"

"I need you to be their protectors," I said. "You are the oldest. You are the strongest of the young ones. Help your grandparents. Watch over them. Keep them safe for me." I looked at each of them in turn. "That is the best thing you can do for me. Better than any blade."

They wanted to argue. I could see it in their faces, in the way they shifted, in the way their jaws tightened. But they knew I was right. And slowly, one by one, they nodded.

"Alright," Atlas said. "We will protect them."

"Good boys."

We packed through the night. And in the grey hours before dawn, we said our goodbyes.

I kissed every single one of my children. Everyone. From the oldest to the youngest, from Atlas to little Nyvara in her basket. I held each of them, breathed them in, and memorized the weight of them in my arms.

"Be good," I told Levy, kissing her forehead. "Look after your sisters."

"I will, Mama."

"Be brave," I told the boys, one by one. "Be strong. Help your grandparents."

"We will."

"Be careful," I told the little ones, the pups and the pearlings and the serpent children, gathering them into my arms.

And then I went to the cubs, my four tiger cubs, all of them, and gathered them into my arms one by one.

They could walk now, my little ones. They had learned in the past weeks, wobbling on their unsteady legs, tumbling and rising and trying again. Aevrik was the steadiest, always charging ahead. Saelira was careful, watching where she stepped. Zorren was a menace, running before he was ready. And Nyvara, the youngest, still held onto whatever was near, but she could walk too, determined not to be left behind.

I knelt down and pulled them all close, the four of them, and held them against my chest, and breathed them in.

"Mama will be back," I whispered. "Mama loves you. Be good."

And then I let them go.

We gathered a hundred beast men from the lion tribe. A hundred. Warriors, all of them, the strongest the pride had to offer. They came at Ravin’s call, at Leon’s call, armed and armored and ready, their faces grim with purpose. Some had fought beside Leon before. Some had fought beside Ravin. All of them had heard the stories of the golden-eyed beast from the south, of the night he had tried to take the pride’s daughter-in-law and failed. They were ready to finish what had been started.

We set out at dawn.

We ran. For hours, for a full day, we ran across the valley and the plains and the long road south. The ground flew beneath us, the miles falling away, and the warriors ran with a rhythm that seemed almost effortless, their beast bodies eating up the distance. Leon and Ravin led the way, their golden manes streaming, their eyes fixed ahead. Veylan and Eryx flanked them, silver and swift. Aureon ran with them, his white-and-black body bright against the grey landscape.

And I rode on Soryn’s back, Caelion beside me, the two of us moving as one.

The land changed as we went. The green valley gave way to brown plains. The plains gave way to rocky hills. And then, at last, we reached the sea.

The cliffs rose high, white and jagged, and below them the waves crashed and foamed. And there we stopped, the hundred warriors gathered on the shore, breathing hard, looking out at the endless water.

It was Caelion’s turn now.

He stepped forward, into the surf, and shifted into his full mer form. His tail flashed bluish silver, his hair floating, and he raised his hands, and he called on his power.

The wind came first. Then the water. Then the air.

He wove them together, shaping them, bending them to his will. And around every one of the hundred warriors, an air bubble formed, clear and shimmering, allowing them to breathe beneath the surface, allowing them to move as freely as fish. The warriors touched their bubbles in wonder, laughing, gasping, and then Caelion struck the water, again and again, sending great ripples surging forward, currents that caught the warriors and swept them along.

The whole army surged toward the island like a tide.

It was a sight unlike anything I had ever seen. A hundred warriors, each wrapped in a shimmering bubble of air, each swept along by the currents Caelion shaped with his own hands. They moved as one, a great school of predators cutting through the deep, their beast forms sleek and powerful, their eyes fixed on the south. The water parted before them, closed behind them, and the whole sea seemed to bend to our purpose.

We raced south, through the water, the world above us a blur of light and shadow. The sun became a pale smear far overhead, filtering down in ribbons of gold and green. Fish scattered before us in silver clouds, startled by the rush of so many bodies. The seafloor rose and fell beneath us, now rocky, now sandy, now carpeted in coral and kelp. And the island grew on the horizon, dark and green and waiting, a smudge of shape that slowly sharpened into cliffs and forests and the familiar curve of the shore.

Hours passed. The light shifted. The water grew warmer, shallower, brighter. And still we swam, relentless, unstoppable, drawn south like an arrow loosed from a bow.

And I stood on Soryn’s back, my hair streaming, my eyes fixed ahead, and I felt something rise in my chest.

Determination. Rage. Hope. All of it, burning together into a single bright flame.

I thought of Khemari. Of his golden eyes and his cold smile. Of the way he had looked at me like I was a thing to be owned. Of the way he had drugged my mate, threatened my family, attacked my home. He would come for the island, and the island would need us.

And we would be there.

We would be there, with a hundred warriors and my mates and all the power we had gathered over the months. And this time, we would finish it.

Khemari was on the move. And so were we. We were on our way.