Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 205

Chapter 205: Lyre: Power Corrupts

LYRE

Thom’s barely able to walk, stumbling every few steps, even with his hand in mine. His eyes have long ago glazed over.

His arcana’s a bare whisper of existence at this point. When Aaron returns, I’ll have to send the wizard back for real rest. One little ward was all it took to finish wiping him out, of course only an hour after the Beta had left.

Owen’s off scouting ahead, since he still has the ability to defend himself if necessary. Plausibility hasn’t blocked him yet, and he’s essentially our last bastion of defense if anything arcana-capable comes our way.

Our emergency escape, if you will.

The effect of blood magic in this space is overwhelming the further we go, saturating the arcana in its taint. One would think such a level of corruption would be mirrored above ground, the earth incapable of nurturing the grass and trees, but it’s the opposite: blood magic, nauseating or not, is a source of energy.

The earth siphons it greedily, creating a lush land of fortune for those unaware of its price.

But underneath the bloated, oil-feeling arcana threads runs something else. Something cleaner and deliberate, organizing patches of arcana as if fixing small defects.

When Owen returns, his face is grim enough that I don’t need to ask, but I do anyway.

"You, too?"

He nods.

He’s a refreshing partner; no wasted words. Just quiet competence and a remarkable ability to follow my train of thought without me having to spell things out, convenient when we have to curate our words in front of the others.

Bonding him to me would make things easier, but thinking of Aaron’s jealousy makes my head already throb. He was already a mess over a simple arcana infusion with Thom, and—

My brows crowd together as I snap my head in Owen’s direction again, frowning at him without meaning to.

How could I even consider passing up such a capable minion just because of a single possessive wolf?

It’s as if I’ve been infected by their pack mentality. We don’t have this kind of relationship.

Owen must sense the weight of my gaze because he meets my eyes, only to have his widen as he takes a step back. "I didn’t do it."

"What?"

"You look like you’re angry with me over something. I can promise you, I didn’t do anything." He holds one hand up in the air, saying solemnly, "I scouted ahead but ran into no one and touched nothing. No ward was tripped."

The man’s acting as if I’m unreasonable. Then again, I did turn him into a toad. For someone like Owen, to be overpowered by another, it would have been a humbling experience.

I’d really thought he was over it by now. We’ve been working together seamlessly for a while, and he stopped flinching every time I looked in his direction.

Pressing my fingers against my forehead, I let out a little sigh. "I was just thinking about something. Relax."

His shoulders remain tense, his expression wary.

This is why you don’t turn your subordinates into toads. They start losing rationality over fear.

Nothing like the sudden urge to eat flies to ruin a relationship.

I sigh again, turning away from him to focus on the pale wizard swaying by my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the angel-descendant finally relax his shoulders.

Pathetic.

Then Thom stumbles beside me once again, his knees buckling. I yank him back before he falls face-forward, then guide him to the nearest wall.

"Sit down. Rest for a while."

He slides down, back against the concrete, breathing hard. Sweat drips from his face. "Sorry."

"Don’t worry about it."

I pat his shoulder a few times, hoping it’s enough to boost his sagging morale. Before, even a glance in his direction would lift his spirits. Now, weighed down by what he’s seen, the amount of information I’ve forced down his throat, and his depleted energy, it seems almost impossible to pull him out of his funk.

Sleep should help. And food.

Though I might have to hold his hand all night.

My lips turn down at the thought before stepping away with Owen, far enough for Thom not to listen in if we whisper.

"The further I go, the more signs of angelic interference I find," he murmurs. "And the App still hasn’t updated its mission. We’re here to find the agent of Chaos, no mention of Order’s involvement at all, which makes no sense. There’s clearly angelic work here."

"Not all descendants would be bound by Probability and Causality."

Owen’s nose wrinkles a little. "I’ve never heard of an angel who isn’t."

Hmm. "Let me guess. Your father raised you with some vague notion of your heritage, but never the specifics."

"No. He had no idea." His eyes narrow. "He raised me as best as he could."

"I’m not criticizing daddy dearest." I wave a dismissive hand. "Most angels would stick around to raise their offspring precisely because of the laws in place. It’s rare for one not to, but certainly not the fault of the human parent."

I glance back at Thom, checking that he’s still conscious. Still breathing. Still with us. He meets my eyes and attempts a weak smile, and I wonder if he expects me to smile back.

I don’t, but at least it doesn’t seem to affect him as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

"The dilution was deliberate," I continue. "A way to create beings who could move more freely in this realm without triggering the automatic safeguards of Balance, but still created under the purview of Order, effectively increasing their power in this world."

"And this community thought that would somehow exempt them from divine oversight?"

"They miscalculated." I keep my tone purposely light. "They believed the further their bloodline strayed from pure angelic stock, the less interest Balance would take in them."

"But they were wrong."

"Spectacularly. Their very existence became a threat to Balance. Think about it, Owen. A faction of quasi-divine beings with just enough power to manipulate reality but not enough divinity to be bound by the rules. What happens when that faction starts altering human destinies on a large scale? When they start interfering with pack structures, magical bloodlines, the threads that hold this mess together?"

Understanding dawns on his face. "Balance corrects the deviation."

"Bingo. They were idiots to think otherwise, and yet it happens every few generations. Power corrupts, even in Order."

He frowns. "But then why is the App not having us look for..."

My head shakes long before his sentence is finished, and he trails off awkwardly. "It won’t. They would send such a mission to a team of Balance."

"Oh." He pauses. "That makes sense."

"The point isn’t to worry about an angel-descendant going off the rails. I’m saying, you should be less worried about the angel and more worried about the team going after them."

He shakes his head slightly. "I still don’t understand why angels would be working with all of... this."

It’s a question we’ve been throwing around since discovering the signs.

"Power corrupts. Even for those associated with Order," I repeat calmly. "I’m more interested in who is capable of hiding their existence from the Guardian of this place."