“You want me to give her the Blade, no questions asked?”

Simon pinched his nose as he felt a migraine not far off. Leta couldn’t help but feel bad for the man.

Ismene had texted Atreus and Allister to say the same thing she was telling the Judge now: give Leta the Blade.

Atreus had asked the Priestess to go into detail, but she responded with a shake of her head and an exasperated frown.

“Now, Atreus. You know I can’t give you the answers to everything or else the good futures don’t happen - only what pushes us in the right direction. Just trust me, Leta needs the Blade.”

The leader of the Athens Sect sighed but fired up the hologram table with a resigned look in his eyes.

After a few moments, Simon’s image flickered into existence. Next to him was a man who appeared to be in his early forties with olive skin, a square jaw, stone discs the size of quarters in his lobs, and tattooed lines down his brow and chin.

“Simon. Mic.” Atreus nodded to the tattooed man.

“Atreus.” The stranger nodded in return, his accent almost South American Spanish but a bit harsher.

The General had looked to Ismene and waved a hand for her to start talking, leading to a five-minute monologue about the Blade and that it would go to Leta.

As she did, Hayato entered with Bonnie the wolf and Yelana a step behind. Hayato looked between the two Sect leaders and gave them a slight bow before heading to the weapon wall and pulling a privacy screen from a hidden pocket disguised as one of the stone groves in a column.

Yelana quietly moved to the wall of computer screens and pulled on a headset as she before toggling on screens to start a digital reconosence.

Bonnie, for her part, went to her owner with a wagging tail, her tongue lolling from her mouth in a canine smile as Allister started strapping a military-like harness on her.

Leta had been sitting in the chair she’d occupied since Ismene had told her about the Blade’s whereabouts, her thumbs absently flicking the edges of the paper the Priestess had ripped from her notepad and handed to her.

Licking her lips, she exhaled hard as she looked back down at the words scrawled like a shopping list instead of a prophecy.

* First Den (Den six) - Use Storm Glass. Think of it as a rug—no time to eat.

* Second Den (Den eight) - Gremlin’s Trick. Don’t forget to use your night vision. Pack a dagger. Eat the Ogre.

* Don’t take the stairs

* Third Den (new den three location) - To wet - no electricity. Use a crossbow and Magician’s Hand. Eat the Nixie.

* At the vault - everyone loves a show. Make a statement - DO NOT eat John.

* On the way back - Make your upgrade for ports (4x) and get Call Nanites.

* Your dad will wake up while you’re in the third den. Atreus isn’t going to tell you until you’re out. Don’t get distracted. You’ll talk to him when you’re back.

* If everything goes as planned tonight, the Crowns will meet to discuss you. You will get a summon tomorrow evening.

* Hang in there. You’ve got this.

* Don’t screw this up.

“I’d almost argue that it’s hers even by our codes. So yes, Leta gets the Blade.” Ismene commanded, holding the coffee cup Dr. Kudela had given her as if her fingers needed something to be busy with so she didn’t start twitching.

Leta looked about, confused, “What codes?”

Allister sighed, standing up from where he’d been kneeling next to his familiar before answering, “The Chosen have some rules for composing themselves. ‘Thou shalt nots’ and all that. The bylaws for this instance state that if a Chosen finds a combat weapon of Atlantian make, they have the right of first refusal.”

“It also states that others may challenge the one who found it if they so choose,” Mic noted as his eyes narrowed on Leta. “One of my Fishermen has requested the Blade, and he has survived many battles, so I am inclined to say that it should be a reward for his service.”

“John isn’t getting it. It’s Leta’s.” Ismene pursed her lips. “Plus, would your guy openly challenge a Crown for something?”

Mic straightened, his back stiff as he realized his error and dropped into a low bow.

“My sincere apologies, your Majesty. I had been informed of your Rising but not of your description.”

“Great,” Ismene clapped her hands as if everything was said and done with that admission, “so we’ve established that it’s Leta’s property. Leta will come tonight and get it.”

“I will?”

“She will?” Allister and Atreus sputtered at the same time.

Ismene rolled her eyes, “Den three on your target list tonight is abandoned. They don’t realize it yet, but the Blessed moved the new den close to containment vault six, where the Blade is. Check your cheat sheets. It’s in there.”

The two men shared a look before pulling out the to-do lists Ismene had written for them, both grumbling “Oh yeah” as they scrolled down to a line item that said precisely what Ismene had just instructed.

“The problem is,” Simon massaged the base of his neck like a child about to confess they broke a window, “it isn’t here yet. The Blade is en route from vault nine and should arrive within the hour. Also, the vault doors close an hour before sunset.”

“Not to mention, if we go to the vault first, we may waste time attacking the dens when they’re weaker,” Allister added as Hayato pulled back the privacy screen. Leta didn’t see much of an immediate difference except that the man was dressed in pants, combat boots, and a long-sleeved coat unseasonable for summer in Athens.

“Leta needs this Blade.” Ismene tried to reason with them, “If we wait even another day, we’re in serious trouble.”

Atreus gave her a hard, unflinching stare, his dark eyes holding her golden gaze in as if to spot any flaw in her statement.

Ismene took the silence as a push for more information. “It’s just a change of plans.” She asserted, her voice low as if pleading, “If the team leaves in the next thirty minutes, they have four hours to take out den six and eight and attack the new den three location before arriving at the vault. I’ve given Mic a fair warning, but John is still going to challenge Leta. She needs that experience from those dens to win the challenge, or we’re all screwed, and you know as well as I that other things are in play with this.”

Leta watched as Atreus chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her stare a moment longer before asking, “What happens tomorrow?”

The simple question had Ismene glancing away, small brackets around her mouth forming as her lips pressed together.

Seeming to resolve herself to a choice, she stood on tiptoes to cup his ear to whisper something so low not even Leta could make out.

Whatever she’d said had the General’s eyes going wide before he schooled his facial features into a blank mask.

“Fine.” His voice was clipped and precise, his disdain for the situation easy to catch, “Leta joins us for the hunt. Yelana? Assist Her Majesty in getting kitted up. We leave in twenty-nine minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman answered, quickly doffing her headset and motioning for Leta to follow her.

“Nothing heavy!” Ismene called out, “She’s not built for throwing around a claymore. Think ‘compact’.”

Yelana nodded and pulled Leta behind the partician, deft fingers finding a latch hidden among the stone carvings, revealing a rack of thin, futuristic armor.

Leta took a moment to think, ‘holy crap, this is actually happening,’ before Yelana returned with what looked like a torture device but was the front and back of chest armor. Leta was told to fit her head through a hole, and the two halves were sealed together like a clamshell.

“This is madness.” She heard Atreus hiss and peeked around the side. Whatever needed to be said to Simon and Mic had concluded, leaving a surely General with his men and a half-mad Priestess.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“It’s stupid, I’m not arguing that.” Ismene gave him a tight-lipped smile, her discomfort at their options evident, “In any other instance, this is a dumb idea - it’s like chucking an infant into a firefight with nothing but a toothpick and a ‘best of luck.’ But we’re out of options on this one. Even now, the probability windows are tightening, and we can’t afford to miss a single step. It’s got to happen, and it’s got to be done this way and in this order.”

The sigh that escaped Atreus as he put his hands on the holotable and bowed his head was that of a man resigning himself to a slaughter.

Ismene put one hand on his shoulder, “I know you don’t believe in a higher being, but, well,” She swallowed and looked away, her golden glow seeming to flicker a moment, “I need you to just trust. Trust me, trust her, trust the future we’ve - I’ve been working so hard to achieve.”

“Your Majesty.” Yelana got Leta’s attention as she finished securing the front and back of the chest armor before connecting abdominal plates until the tank top she’d been wearing was covered.

Leta bounced on her feet in surprise at how light it all was, twisting to one side and then another as she got a feel for any limitations on movement.

Yelana watched for any signs of discomfort or limited movement. When satisfied, she began clipping armor over her shoulders and arms, politely but firmly asking Leta to raise her arms to test the joints for any issues.

Seeing none, Yelana passed her a loose white crew neck to slip over the armor and a pair of black pants that looked bulky and thicker than they should have been.

The woman turned to give Leta a modicum of privacy as she pulled off the sweatpants she’d been given and pulled the new pair on.

It looked like she was wearing a pair of motorcycle jeans on the outside, but as her thumb flicked over the hardened ridges, she realized the same plate armor had been sewn into the fabric.

She had barely finished buckling up her pants before Yelana was at her side again, grabbing her free arm to clamp on elbow and forearm protection.

“Time is of the essence, your Majesty.” She breathed, flitting around Leta as weapon after the weapon was slipped into hidden compartments. A compact crossbow was fitted along her spine between her shoulders, daggers were tucked near her stomach, and a spring-loaded quarterstaff was neatly strapped to the small of her back. The woman was like a whirlwind, leaving Leta mildly dizzy and a bit heavier as she started to feel the weight of all the armor and weapons she now carried.

Yelana looked her up and down and nodded at her work before handing her a pair of steel-toed combat boots and a leather jacket that was out of season but would do well in covering her armor.

Dressed, the woman pushed the privacy screen back into its hidden pocket, and all eyes turned to Leta, swearing over her as if to find any flaws.

“Oh! The gloves!” Ismene exclaimed, darting over to a side cupboard and coming up with a pair of long fingerless gloves that were bulky and covered the vambraces up to her forearms like thin gauntlets. The insides were made of a lightweight, sweat-absorbent material while providing padding between the Kevlar-like metal encasing her arms. A raised metal plate covered the backs of her hands and reminded her of something out of a ninja cartoon.

“Make a fist,” Ismene instructed, that mischievous smile never leaving her face.

Leta did and nearly gasped as a section of iron slipped from beneath the hand plate to roll forward, covering her knuckles in an inch-wide chunk of studded metal.

“Built-in brass knuckles.” She chuckled at Leta’s wide-eyed speechlessness.

“Holy-”

“Now, imagine that with your lightning.”

Leta’s blue eyes kept up to glowing golden eyes and the slightly manic smile the Priestess was giving her.

Allister gave an appreciative whistle, “Talk about packing a punch.”

Bonnie gave a little ‘woof’ in agreement. The Hunter and his familiar must have kitted themselves out of thin air, the ginger giant’s chest plate visible from his open jacket.

Leta never even heard the man move so much, let alone equip an entire set of armor and weapons. You would expect such a large individual to make a noise like a bull in a china shop, but he was terrifyingly silent on his feet, which she guessed resulted from his Hunter class.

Allister zipped up his jacket, the plate armor peaking near his clavicle disappearing as he looked over his team with a critical eye.

In the silence, Leta could only focus on the fluttering of anxiety in the pit of her stomach that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be nerves of excitement or trepidation.

‘Who am I kidding?’ She chastised herself, “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, Leta. Why are you doing this?’

“Alright.” Atreus exhaled, a muscle in his jaw ticking at the situation, “Let’s move out. Yelana, you’re on Logistics.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Dr. Kudela, please be on standby. We’ll keep in touch. Ismene?”

“Coffee and the meds should keep me up for a few hours, but by the time you’re headed back, I’ll be under.” She answered, pulling her shawl close as if defensive about her limitations, “If anything major happens that shifts course, I’ll text you.”

Allister clapped, rubbing his hands with a gleam in his eyes, “Oh, this is going to be exciting.”

Atreus raised an eyebrow as they made their way out the door. “Exciting isn’t how I’d put it.”

“I didn’t say it would be fun, just that it would be exciting.”

Leta glanced back to see Ismene giving her a friendly wave, a smile pulling her lips tight as if she were seeing a family member off to the airport.

Just before the doors closed, her expression shifted from cheerful to severe, her golden eyes flaring brightly for a moment as Leta saw her mouth the words “Fight dirty.”

What had once been stables had long ago been converted into a garage; the paint was worn and faded from the walls, but the tools neatly organized at the workbench looked brand new.

Leta spotted all manner of vehicles, all of them no descript and forgettable save for three motorcycles and a classic Jaguar covered by a tarp in the corner.

Samuel was bent over and halfway into the engine of an SUV as they entered, their boots making the barest scrap against the concrete floor. Wide-eyed, the boy quickly finished what he’d been working on and slid down the step stool he’d set up to reach into the bowls of the vehicle.

“All tipped up.” He called, closing everything down and storing the wrenches and other items he’d been using to tinker with the machine before tossing a key into the air.

Atreus caught it easily, “Well done.”

He’d barely said a complete sentence, but Samuel was beaming at the recognition, a proud smile twinkling as he folded up his step stool before going to a large red button against the side of the wall and giving it a good ‘whack.’

Well-oiled chains came alive as the garage door against the north wall rolled into the ceiling, the afternoon light blinding them momentarily.

Allister opened a door for Leta to sit in the back before going around to the boot and popping it open for Bonnie to jump in, rocking the vehicle with her movements.

Leta noticed how thick the doors were compared to a normal car and realized they must have been bulletproof. There weren’t any seatbelts, but groves had been installed in various areas to hold all weapons. Some, like the giant punch dagger on the back of the driver seat in front of Hayato, were occupied, their contents strapped in to prevent any accidental stabbing during a sudden stop.

Over the center console table, she spotted what looked like a large tray on a swiveling bar and realized it was a mobile workstation as Atreus slid into the seat and placed a thin laptop on the station.

Allister squeezed himself into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle.

“Is it too late to ask for a bathroom break?” Leta chuckled anxiously.

Atreus turned in his seat and shot her a scathing glare that had her shrinking back into the cushions.

“Sorry. Nervous.”

“Don’t worry, lass.” Allister gave an evil chuckle, “We’ll work those out of your system in no time. Nothing a little blood and chaos can’t fix.”

***

The drive into Athens was scenic for the first few minutes as the SUV rolled from a dirt path lined with mountain farms to a paved road. Ancient olive trees and quaint stone houses gave way to modern concrete buildings and hot sidewalks.

No one spoke for the first part of the trip until they hit the main thoroughfare, and Atreus snapped his fingers to get their attention.

Leta and Hayato leaned forward and nearly pressed themselves together as they strained to look at Atreus’s screen. Displayed was a three-dimensional image she recognized as Lycabettus Hill, the tallest point inside the capital. It was a dry wooded landmark of the city, full of trees, cactuses, and religious sites, providing a tiny refuge of peace in the middle of a metropolis.

“We’ve had our suspicions about den six but have been able to pinpoint its location at the northeast ridge of LycabettusHill,” Atreus informed them as he tapped on the screen, the image zooming in on a long dip in the hill’s landscape to a small concrete structure that could have easily been mistaken as some utility contraption for the not too distant outdoor theater or restaurant.

“This is a popular den that’s been cleared out multiple times, and this time will be no different. Inside,” He tapped the screen again as the utility structure expanded to show a hidden cave system underneath connected to a tiny hole to the north, “Are two main rooms. Room one is closest to the main stairs. This has generally been their sleeping and eating abode, so the minute anyone comes down those stairs, they’re met with a room full of fists and fangs. Towards the back is room two, where they keep their supplies. They may be more monster than man, but the more humanoid will still attempt to blend in with the populous to get food.”

“Room two narrows into a very cramped tunnel that can only be accessed on hands and knees,” Atreus indicated to the thin line that connected the cavern rooms to the northern point of the hill, “It’s a sixty-meter crawl to the outside once you start, and there’s no room for you to pull out a sword or quarterstaff. If caught in the tunnel, you’ll grapple your opponent in a space less than a meter wide.”

“Hope you don’t get claustrophobic.” Allister chuckled as he made another turn.

Atreus put away the tablet and looked at the two in the back seat, “Hayato, you do the best in close quarters like the tunnel. I need you at the mouth of the tunnel to pick off any trying to make a run for it. Bonnie’s scent won’t trigger their instincts initially, so she’ll do a check ahead.”

“Woof.” The wolf’s head piped up from the back, her ears at attention at the prospect.

“This will be a standard room-clearing. Allister will be front - your Hunter’s Gaze is best suited for the condition. I will be behind Allister. And Leta? You’ll be behind me.”

The general gave her his full attention. “The strategy is to throw a flash-bang into the room, then rush in and subdue the targets while they are disoriented from the attack. While you will be in the back of the line, you will not be out of danger. Other than the flash grenade, we will not be using any firearms due to the nearby Mundanes. You will need to rely on your gifts and the weapons you have on hand. Do you understand?”

Leta gulped but nodded, her heart feeling like it was beating in her throat as a nervous shiver ran down her spine.

She didn’t even notice their surroundings until the SUV braked slowly, pulling into one of several parking spots at the base of the hill.

Allister turned the key and braced his elbow against the armrest to look back at them. His stare was serious and unwavering, holding such weight that it pulled one’s heart into their feet with the gravity of the situation they were about to face.

“We’re here.”