As they continued their conversation, Kyra's sharp eyes suddenly locked onto Lucian. Without warning, he strode over and scooped the cat into his arms.

"What a nice cat," he remarked, stroking Lucian's fur.

Aristos’ brow furrowed. "Where did that cat come from? I don't allow animals in here."

"Don't worry about it. This cat doesn't bite," Kyra then lowered his head, bringing his mouth close to its ear. In a whisper so soft that Aristos couldn't hear, he added, "Isn't that right, Lucian?"

Lucian's entire body tensed. How did Kyra know his name? It had to be a guess, a coincidence. There was no way...

Suddenly, a voice resonated in his mind, clear as day. "It's not a guess. I sensed you a mile away."

Kyra was communicating with him telepathically. This was impossible unless...

Aristos' voice cut through Lucian's panicked thoughts. "What are you doing with that cat?"

Kyra, still holding Lucian, turned back to Aristos with a serene smile. "Nothing. Just talking to it."

"Talking to an animal? That's weird, even for you."

"It's not weird at all. You should try it sometime. Animals are excellent listeners," he gave Lucian a final pat.

"No way! I don’t like cats or dogs. They smell all the time and are hard to maintain."

"Oh, that’s just mean."

"It’s true."

"Well, nice chatting with you. I need to get back to work."

Aristos gave a nod.

As Kyra turned to leave, still cradling Lucian in his arms, the cat's mind was reeling. Kyra wasn't just a smuggler or Aristos' partner. He was something more, something otherworldly. The pain in Lucian's head, the telepathic communication - it all pointed to one shocking conclusion: Kyra is a god.

Kyra carried Lucian through the warehouse, past stacks of crates and barrels, until they reached a small, secluded alcove hidden from view. He gently set Lucian down on a wooden crate, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"You must be asking yourself a lot of questions right now," he said.

Lucian's feline form tensed, his tail twitching. He wanted to shift back to his human form, to demand answers, but he didn't dare reveal his ability. Instead, he fixed Kyra with an intense stare, hoping his eyes could convey his confusion and suspicion.

"Oh, come now," Kyra chuckled. "There's no need to keep up this charade. I know who and what you are. You can change back. No one will see us here."

"I…I can’t."

"Not a shapeshifter, huh?"

"No, I’m not."

"Then who—wait, I sensed that power before, it seems familiar. Very familiar."

Lucian's mind raced. Not only could Kyra sense his divine aura, but he could also identify its source. This wasn't just any minor deity; Kyra had to be a powerful god to possess such abilities.

"Are you…no you can’t be."

"What?"

"You can’t be Artemis. Her powers are much stronger than yours. Unless, you’re his relative? No, it’s much more than that. You’re…her child, isn’t it? Am I right?"

"How did you—?"

"I knew it," Kyra snapped his finger. "It’s been a long time but I know that power from somewhere. How is your mother by the way?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and unsettling. He couldn't decide if he should acknowledge his question or not.

"Why is he asking about her? This is all too strange," Lucian thought. "I... I don't..." He paused, realizing how ridiculous his question was. But Kyra didn't seem fazed at all.

"Come now, young demigod. There's no need for pretense here."

Lucian's whiskers twitched. He felt cornered, exposed. Part of him wanted to bolt, to dash away and lose himself in the city streets. But another part wanted to answer him on the spot to gain his trust so he can say more about the Persians.

"She’s…ok I guess," he replied. "I’m confused. What’s happening?"

"What’s to be confused with? Am I not allowed to know the status of one of my own race?"

"I…I guess not."

"There you go."

"I know your name isn't Kyra," Lucian thought back. "Tell me, who are you really?"

"You know who I am from the myths, little demigod."

"Was that a trick question? No, I don't."

"Very well. I'll give you a hint."

The air around them seemed to chill, and shadows deepened in the corners of the alcove. Kyra's mental voice took on an otherworldly resonance as he continued, "I am the one who comes for all, eventually. Kings and paupers, heroes and villains - all must face me in the end. I do not judge, I merely guide souls to their final destination."

Lucian's feline form tensed as the implications of Kyra's words sank in. This was no minor deity, no simple god of commerce or nature. This was one of the most ancient and feared gods in all of Greek mythology.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"I have walked battlefields strewn with the fallen," Kyra's thoughts continued, "and I have stood by sickbeds as the old and infirm take their final breath. I am both feared and welcomed, dreaded and embraced."

"Are you…?"

"Say it. Say who I am."

Lucian's mind whirled. I know those legends. I heard it before when I was a child. Those stories whispered in hushed tones about the deity who shepherds souls to the Underworld.

"Thanatos," he finally spoke. "You are Thanatos, the god of death."

"Now you understand the gravity of the situation you've stumbled into," Kyra's mental voice grew somber. "This is no simple matter of mortals and their petty schemes. The forces at play here reach to the very foundations of the cosmos."

The god of death himself, here in this warehouse, involved in human affairs? It seemed impossible, yet the evidence was right before his eyes.

"But why? Why are you here, working with someone like Aristos?"

"That, little demigod, is a question with a very complex answer. One that, I'm afraid, you're not yet ready to hear in full."

"And why is that?"

"Return to your companions," he said, ignoring the question. "Tell them what you've learned about Aristos and the smuggling operation. But be very careful about what you say regarding me. The wrong word in the wrong ear could have... catastrophic consequences."

"Wait, why are you telling me this? It’s like you’re helping me."

"I’m not. The point is, it doesn’t matter if you know about the Persians. You can’t stop it, regardless if you tell them. It’s inevitable."

"Inevitable? What do you mean by that?"

"Because Greece will be invaded either way."

"But why? Why are you doing this? Why are you hellbent in letting this happen? Why are you interfering with human affairs?"

"I don’t need to tell you that, my little furry friend—"

Just as Kyra was about to press further, a deep voice called out from behind him.

"Boss? What are you doing over here? And... are you talking to that cat?"

Kyra whirled around. One of his men, a fellow named Minos, stood there with a perplexed look on his face.

"I, uh..." he stammered, then forced a laugh. "Just taking a moment to clear my head. You know how I like to talk things out sometimes. The cat just happened to be here." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Helps me think."

Minos raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced. "Right... Well, anyway, Aristos is looking for you. Says it's urgent. He said something about another merchant who wants in on the poppies we’re selling."

"Thanks, Minos. I'll head over right away."

"Ok, boss," he nodded and turned to leave, still looking puzzled.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Kyra turned back to Lucian. "Sorry about that," he said, standing up. "But our time grows short, and I need to go back to my duties."

"You’re not going to stop me?"

"Why would I? Like I’ve said, you and your friends are not going to make a dent here anyways. So I suggest that you go back to them."

Lucian didn’t waste any time and padded through the streets, weaving between the legs of passersby until he approached Thais' house. He needed to share this information, but how much could he reveal without risking the wrath of a god?

Slipping through the entrance, Lucian made his way to the small, secluded room where his human body lay. He then pressed his paw to his human hand. In an instant, his consciousness shifted, and he gasped as he returned to his body.

Lucian sat up, stretching his limbs and blinking as he readjusted his senses. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, then made his way to the main room where he knew Stephanos would be.

As expected, he found the Spartan poring over maps. Stephanos looked up as Lucian entered. "Hey there, what’s up?"

"You wouldn't believe what I've discovered."

"About what?"

"Aristos and Kyra."

"Is that so? Do tell."

As Lucian recounted his findings—the smuggling operation, the Persian connection, the mysterious Kyra and Aristos—Stephanos' expression grew increasingly grave.

"By the gods," he muttered when Lucian finished. "This is bigger than we imagined." He fixed Lucian with a piercing stare. "But how did you get all this information? You were gone for hours."

Lucian scratched his head, avoiding Stephanos' gaze. "I told you before, I have my ways."

Stephanos frowned, clearly not satisfied with the answer, but didn't press further. "Ok, scratch that. You mentioned documents that this Doros was carrying. Do you know where he's hiding them?"

"Somewhere in the warehouse, I think. I couldn't pinpoint the exact location."

"Damn. I'd bet my right arm those documents contain information about the numbers of Persians coming. If we could get our hands on them..."

"It would give us a significant advantage."

"That’s right," Stephanos nodded. "We need to find a way into that warehouse."

"But how?"

As Lucian stared at Stephanos, he couldn't shake the nagging thought that he'd missed a golden opportunity. If only he'd thought to grab those documents while in his cat form. It would have saved them so much time and trouble. But no, he'd been too focused on just gathering information, not thinking ahead to how they might need physical evidence.

He sighed inwardly. There was no use dwelling on it now. He was here, in his human form, and he couldn't exactly transform back into a cat at will. The energy drain from his earlier extended possession had left him feeling weak. Even if he wanted to, he doubted he could muster the strength for another transformation so soon. He'd have to be smarter about using his abilities in the future.

"What if we..." Lucian began, but his train of thought was interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach. He winced, embarrassed.

"Sounds like someone needs to eat before we plan our next move."

"Yeah, I guess I worked up quite an appetite with all that... investigating."

"Let's grab some food and then we can figure out our approach to the warehouse," Stephanos suggested, already moving towards the door. "Can't strategize on an empty stomach, after all."

"That’s probably a good idea," Lucian said, following his companion out of the room and into the main dining area.

"You there," Stephanos called out to a nearby slave, a thin man with graying hair. "Bring us some food. Whatever's hot and plentiful."

The slave bowed slightly. "Yes, master. Right away."

They settled on the table.

"So," Lucian said, "what's our next move? We can't exactly waltz into that warehouse without a plan."

Stephanos leaned in. "Maybe we could—"

"Wait," Lucian interrupted, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Where's Drakon? Shouldn't he be here for this discussion?"

"Yeah, about that…last I saw, he was outside playing dice with some locals. Said something about 'gathering intelligence,' but I think he just wanted an excuse to gamble."

Lucian rolled his eyes. "Typical. Here we are trying to plan a delicate operation, and he's out there risking our coin on a game of chance."

"Don't be too hard on him. You know how he is. He might actually learn something useful out there. People tend to loosen their tongues when money's involved."

The slave returned, setting down two bowls of steaming stew and a loaf of bread. Lucian's stomach growled again at the sight.

"Thank you," he said to the slave, who looked surprised at the gratitude. As the man shuffled away, Lucian turned back to Stephanos. "You're right, I suppose. Drakon has his ways. I just wish he'd—"

"Communicate more?" Stephanos finished, tearing off a chunk of bread. "That's not exactly his strong suit."

Lucian snorted, digging into his stew. "We can't just break in. That'll draw too much attention."

"True, so how are we going to go in?"

"You know," Lucian pointed with his spoon, "I think this is where we need Drakon’s help. He’s a former soldier and had experience infiltrating. Maybe we can ask for his help?"

"Infiltrating? How’d you know that?"

"I’ve seen him do it before," Lucian went back to his stew.

"When was that?"

"When we sneaked up at Mira’s camp."

"Shit really? You gotta tell me that story."