The bastard’s still alive—he’s the only immortal shifter I know—but he’s never reached out. Not once. For all he knows, I’m dead.
Pain arrows through my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The loom encircling my wrist flashes, and the scene changes.
Now I’m a young boy, arriving at the compound.
“There’s my soldier.” The man who speaks is tall, dark, and terrifying.
The malevolent glint in his eyes suggests he’s someone who has been alive a long, long time and has grown nonchalant.
He slaps a hand down on my shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth.
“Come, boy. Let me introduce you to your teammates.” He leads me into a room full of bunks and children, all of whomstare at me curiously, likely wondering if I’m a member of their team.
Ares leads me towards a corner in the back, where three little boys stare up at me. The tallest has tawny skin and black hair, streaked with red and blue, that flops haphazardly over his forehead. His eyes are cold, almost glacial, and his lips are pressed in a perfectly straight line. Beside him is a grinning boy with white-blond hair and a single dimple. The third boy has black hair, pale skin, and a timid smile.
I don’t have a lot of memories of my time in the compound, due to the deep sleep the gods put us in. But I do remember this meeting—and the feeling of completeness that filled me when I stared at the boys.
My team.
The thread flashes again.
Now I’m older, a man in the middle of battle. Blood covers my hands—some of it mine, most of it not.
I look around at the fallen bodies, each one a consequence of my choices. I’m a killing machine. That’s all I’m good for. I have a singular purpose in this life, and it’s to slaughter as many supernaturals and monsters as possible.
I’ve felt numb for so long, and this battle is a testament of that.
But now…
Everything has changed.
I’ve never allowed myself to get close to another person. My brothers are the only exception. I always thought I didn’t need another person to protect. I already have my team, and that’s enough. But now I’m tangled up in all of this shit—in her—and there’s no escaping the web she wove.
I thought pushing her away would make everything easier. Hell, I thought it was the smart thing to do. If I kept my distance, I wouldn’t have to feel this thing gnawing at the edges of mychest every time she’s close. If I kept my distance, I wouldn’t have to watch her crack open and break off pieces of herself for the world to take. But now, as I stand here in the middle of a bloody battlefield, something is different.
I’m different.
She’s the only person who has ever tried to get past my walls, and I pushed her away like a damn fool. I can admit I was afraid—still am. Afraid of what would happen if she really saw me. Afraid of what it would mean to need her. Afraid of what would happen if I were to lose her.
The vision shifts around me and then cuts out. I’m once again in Athena’s Labyrinth, standing in front of the loom. The thread around my wrist loosens and then retreats, returning to the intricate tapestry before me.
My brothers and Thea surround me, and the threads around their wrists untangle as well. They sag forward, seeming relieved.
“Thea!!” Krystian shouts, turning towards her.
She blinks, seemingly in a daze.
“Did everyone else…?” Zaid scratches at his cheek absently.
“Get transported into visions of the past? Yes,” I say, keeping my gaze intent on Thea.
I can’t look away.
Maybe that was the purpose of the loom—for us to look at our past and present and learn from our mistakes. To realize personal truths about ourselves.
Mine?
