The chase was a frantic blur of green and brown, branches whipping past my face, stinging. My lungs burned.

  "Lord Pan! It's us!" I shouted into thick foliage that swallowed the words. Nothing. He kept running.

  Why isn't he listening? Paranoia? Did something get to him?

  "Lord Pan! Wait!" Lena's shout cracked through the forest ahead, sharp with frustration.

  He didn't flinch. Just crashed through ferns like we were monsters hunting him. His form shimmered. Collapsed inward. In a heartbeat, the horned man was gone—replaced by a sleek stag with a burnished copper coat.

  But the terrain worked against him. Dense undergrowth tangled around hooves. Low branches forced him to weave and dodge. A stag's speed meant nothing if it couldn't run straight. Good.

  "Lee! Stay on him!" I barked, swerving toward a giant pine. "He's fast but the forest's slowing him down! I'm going up!"

  Bark bit into my palms. My muscles burned from yesterday's training—every pull upward sent fire through my shoulders. I pushed through. Come on. Feathers. Wings. Anything with eyes.

  Below, Lena let out a furious growl and poured on speed. Her smaller frame ducked under obstacles the stag had to crash through. Red hair blazed like a war banner as she closed the distance.

  My fingers found something. Owl feathers in a nest wedged between branches. Still warm. No time for grace. No time for proper ritual.

  The chant ripped from my throat—raw, urgent. "Spirits of fur and fang, wing and claw! Answer the pact woven since dawn's first hunt! From forest's heart, from mountain's howl, from river's cry! Gather, guardians of the wild! Stride forth by my side and rend my foes! By my name, by the law of life, I summon you—guardians of the untamed!" "KALó!"

  The air crackled. Primal energy surged through my bones—coiling, shaping, manifesting. A Tiger Owl materialized above me. Massive. Otherworldly. Feathers like striped birch bark. Eyes like molten amber. It clicked its beak once. Sharp as breaking bone.

  My gaze locked with its predatory stare. "Don't lose that deer! It's Lord Pan!"

  The owl launched. A powerful WHOOSH of silent wings—a falling stone wrapped in feathers.

  I scrambled down. Half-sliding, half-falling. My boots hit ground hard enough to jar my knees. Already running.

  -?-

  Ahead, Lena skidded to a halt. Chest heaving. She stared up at the spectral owl shadowing Pan's flight through treetops.

  "Show-off!" she yelled back. But a fierce grin spread across her face. "Alright, feather-brain! Herd him toward that rocky outcrop!"

  I hit the forest floor running. My vision swam. Stars danced at the edges. My legs felt like wet rope. Dammit. That spell always took too much Sthénos.

  A sharp hoot echoed above. The owl was sending a warning—Pan was veering right. Wait. Her right or my right? We're facing opposite— Screw it.

  "TO YOUR OTHER LEFT, TRIBE GIRL!"

  The effect was instant. Lena's sprinting form jolted to a stumbling halt. Her head whipped around so fast I was surprised her neck didn't snap.

  "MY WHAT?!" she screeched, voice cracking. "I'M NOT— THAT'S STILL MY RIGHT, YOU LEAF-EATING—!"

  She cut herself off with a roar. Did a frantic about-face that nearly tripped her. Finally bolted in the correct direction. Her furious muttering carried back. "Stupid forest... stupid directions... calling me a tribe girl like he's not a river-rat himself..."

  Despite everything, a laugh wanted to bubble up. I strangled it.

  We burst into a small clearing. The stag finally skidded to a halt. Sides heaving. Hide lathered in sweat. Its head swung around, dark eyes locking onto Lena.

  They widened. Recognition broke through. Wild energy shimmered around him. The stag blurred, stretched, melted away.

  In its place stood Lord Pan, leaning heavily against moss-covered stone. Chest rising and falling. Fear in his eyes receded—replaced by dawning embarrassment.

  "L-Lena? Nihl?" he panted. "By the roots... I... I thought you were... them."

  He ran a trembling hand through disheveled hair. Leaves and twigs tangled in dark strands. Utterly mortified. "I am so terribly sorry. The forest... it has been whispering lies to me."

  Pan straightened, trying to regain divine composure. Failed. His shoulders stayed hunched. Eyes still darting.

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  "I have been... relocating. Dodging Apollo's agents. They seek to steal my new flute before our musical duel in two days. They know I cannot win without it."

  A relieved smile broke through his anxiety. "I am so glad you are finally here. You can protect me."

  I glanced at Lena. Scratched my chin. Gave a slow, deliberate shake of my head. Something didn't add up.

  "Apollo's agents?" I kept my voice casual. Light. "What do they look like?"

  Pan waved a hand vaguely. His gaze shifted away, not quite meeting my eyes. "Oh, you know... cloaks. Sometimes in the shadows. They are very... sneaky."

  Flimsy. Practically transparent.

  Lena crossed her arms. Her scowl returned full force. She didn't believe a word either.

  "CLOAKS?!" she exploded, throwing her hands up. "That's your big threat? 'Cloaks in the shadows'? Pan, I've seen scarier laundry on a line!"

  She stomped closer, pointing a finger at him. "Apollo's retainers wear white and gold and shine like they've swallowed the sun! They don't skulk! They announce themselves with fanfares and bad poetry!"

  While she verbally eviscerated him, I leaned against a thick pine. Eyes closed. I drew a deep breath. Felt the forest's pulse beneath my feet.

  The drain from summoning receded—my Sthénos returning like a shallow well filling after rain. Slowly. Too slowly.

  The Tiger Owl circled overhead—tethered to me through the bond. Each beat of its wings pulled at something in my chest. A steady drain. I sent a silent command upward.

  My owl peeled away—a silent striped ghost ascending through canopy. Its sharp eyes swept the forest floor, searching for these "cloaked harassers."

  I opened my eyes. My gaze met Lena's. She gave me a sharp, knowing look. We were thinking the same thing.

  "Right," I said, pushing off the tree. "We'd better get back to the road. Lady Dia's probably chewing her nails by now."

  We fell into loose formation. Lena took point, posture bristling. I motioned for Pan to go next. Took up the rear myself, quarterstaff-spear held loosely. My senses stretched thin. Listening. Watching.

  As we walked, my legs protested every step. Each movement felt like pushing through mud. The owl was still draining me. Not much. But steady.

  And I hadn't fully recovered yet.

  Pan relaxed slightly. Divine curiosity overriding fear. "Lena, your flames... they burn with such honest passion." His voice took that dreamy quality gods got when philosophizing.

  He glanced back at me. "And Nihl, that summoning... it was potent. The pact felt deep. Ancient." A pause. "But you are winded? Is such a thing not... commonplace? For a son of a dryad?"

  His tone was genuinely puzzled. Right. Because for an actual nature god, pulling a beast from the spirit world was probably like breathing.

  I kept my face neutral. The question stung. A reminder of the gap between my borrowed power and true divine talent.

  Lena snorted from the front without turning. "He's not a god, Pan. He just plays one in the woods."

  And I'm just the foster son of a dryad. Not a true descendant like Achilles. Cold stone settled in my gut.

  Then—sharp silent warning flashed through the bond. My head snapped up.

  "Lee! Trouble up front! One man... with a cloak. And a carriage."

  My grip tightened on my spear. The wood groaned. The shield on my arm felt reassuringly solid. I moved quickly to Lena's side. Shoulders almost touching.

  Lena dropped into a low crouch. Fists already smoldering with faint crimson aura. "You seeing this, river-rat?" she muttered.

  There—partially obscured by trees where the forest path met the main road—stood a simple wooden carriage. Nothing fancy. And standing beside it, draped in a dark traveler's cloak, was a single figure. Waiting.

  I glanced back at Pan. He'd gone pale. Eyes wide with that same terror. His knuckles white where he clutched his flute.

  "Maybe," I said quietly, "Lord Pan wasn't so paranoid after all."

  -?-

  The figure let out a low, melodic chuckle. A hand emerged from the cloak. Pushed the hood back slightly. Not enough to see a face—enough to reveal the glint of a polished golden-hued shield. The lethal point of a spear held with casual ease.

  "Well now," a relaxed voice floated toward us. Smooth as honey. "What do we have here? I wonder... some thieves lying in wait for an honest traveler?"

  Lena's reaction was instantaneous. The smoldering aura erupted into full Promethean Flame—casting flickering red light across the clearing. Turning green shadows orange and violent.

  "THIEF?!" she snarled, taking a half-step forward. "You're the one skulking in a cloak! Who are you?!"

  Beside me, Pan let out a terrified gasp. He clutched his flute like a lifeline. "You see?" he whimpered. "You see? They've found me! It's one of them!"

  The cloaked man didn't advance. He just tilted his head—slow, deliberate. The spear point didn't waver. Held perfectly still with the kind of control that came from years of training.

  My mind raced. Golden shield. Professional stance. That voice—confident but not aggressive. Testing us.

  This wasn't some random forest ambush. This was something else entirely.

  "Lena." My voice came low. A command to hold. I stepped forward, leaving the cover of trees. My worn leather armor and wooden spear stood in stark contrast to his gleaming gold.

  The spectral Tiger Owl glided down on silent wings. Landed with soft weight on my shoulder. Its amber eyes fixed on the stranger.

  "Who are you?" I asked. Tone flat. Giving nothing away.

  The man let out a low chuckle. "A druid? From the northern tribes?" He shook his head in apparent amusement. "And a Pyraei from the Balkan forests? An odd pair to find menacing travelers."

  With a flourish, he shrugged off his cloak in one smooth motion. Sun-golden armor gleamed underneath. Adorned with bronzed filigree. He settled into a ready stance—feet planted, shield up, spear held with easy grace.

  Every line of his body spoke of experience. Lethal confidence.

  "I am Peleus," he announced. His voice rang with pride. "Captain of the Apollo Guild." His eyes flicked to Pan, then back. "And you're dangerously close to cargo I've been hired to protect. Cargo that certain parties would very much like to... intercept."

  His gaze swept from my owl to Lena's flaming fists. Sharp. Calculating. "Now... explain yourselves."

  The conclusion hit me like a physical blow. So he really is after Pan's instrument.

  My eyes met Lena's. I saw the same realization flash in her gaze—the stark understanding of the chasm between us. A seasoned Guild Captain. A veteran of countless battles. Versus two scrappy forest kids playing at being heroes. Her jaw clenched so tight I feared her teeth might crack.

  He's too experienced. The only one I'd ever seen move like that was Finnik. A warrior who survived this long in a world of gods and monsters? We can't handle him.

  But we didn't have a choice. We couldn't run and leave Pan. We couldn't talk our way out of this. There was only one path.

  My hand tightened on my spear. The wood bit into my palm. "Let's go, Lee!"

  My shout was raw. A battle cry ripped from a place of pure, desperate defiance. We surged forward as one—wooden spear and stolen fire, forest orphans against golden legend.

  Peleus's amused smile didn't even falter. He simply adjusted his grip on his gleaming spear.

  His stance immovable.

  The distance between us evaporated.