noun ~ the ability to see, hear, or become aware of something through the senses

POLLUX

Apollo's heart continued to beat in Phoenix's hand two more times. Its final, faltering twitches between blood-slick fingers made everyone quiet.

Phoenix had been quick; quicker than Apollo could register. He had moved with a fluidity I'd never seen in a man so large, but to be able to puncture bone and tissue from such proximity... His strength was undeniable, and everyone here knew it now.

I stared at the pooling blood, not out of fascination, but because I couldn't look at Apollo. His body lay crumpled at Phoenix's feet, his chest torn open and his vacant eyes fixed upon the sky. He was dead. I could see that; smell it. The thick scent of his blood coated every breath I dragged into my lungs.

Yet some part of me still waited for him to move.

Apollo had survived every consequence meant for him. He had slipped through the cracks of history, leaving everyone else to suffer in his place. Even with his ribs exposed and his heart removed, I expected his fingers to curl into the mud as he prepared himself to fight back.

Expected those dead eyes to find me and blame me for his demise.

A sudden growl caught my attention, and I turned to the dark wolf that prowled closer. Cors strolled several feet away, bloodied and deadly. His gaze dropped to the heart Phoenix held towards him, a sharpness in his gaze that made me hold my breath.

No words passed between them, but I doubted they needed to speak.

I had not witnessed what Apollo had done to Cors all those years ago, but I had understood enough from Nova. He had cut out Cors's tongue and fed it to a wolf, taking the man's voice and then punishing him for his silence.

Now Apollo's heart rested in the palm of the grandson who had killed him, and for one moment, I thought he would turn away. But instead, with the ease of tossing a tennis ball, he threw the heart towards the wolf.

The heart was gone in a matter of sharp chomps from a beast that tried and failed to save his family. He swallowed slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed upon Apollo's lifeless body. Blood dripped from his maw, and my stomach churned at the unpleasant sight.

But something inside me did loosen because Apollo was dead. Truly dead and not just a figment of my imagination. It had been me, myself, and I for a long time, and even now, as my strength grew with the fresh blood that healed me, I still felt like I was back in that cage.

My breath shuddered out of me, taking what remained of my strength with it. My knees buckled beneath me, but an arm caught me around the waist.

"Easy," Charlie grunted.

Charlie.

I sagged against him before remembering that he had shifted back only moments ago. He was completely naked, much like Phoenix, and I averted my eyes with a grunt.

"Do you own underwear?"

Charlie blinked down at me, streaked with blood and dirt. "What?"

His voice was raspy from lack of use, and I had a hard time reeling in the sudden flare of my gift. It had been mute for so long, trapped behind a spell that Apollo's death had broken. The witch who cursed me had slowly given me my sight and instincts, and now he was gone, she left me completely.

That only made me think it was a debt rather than a need.

"You could have found trousers before touching me." I muttered.

"We have just survived a war." Charlie growled.

"And yet it is over."

His mouth dropped open. "Pollux."

"Charlie."

His face softened at the sound of my voice, and for a moment, I pondered looking into him. So many things passed over his face, and it didn't take a genius to recognise the gaunt look of his face and torso. He was still strong, stronger than me, but... slimmer, paler... Like he'd lived in a cave for an entire year feasting on deer he had hunted with his bare hands.

I grimaced as his bare hip pressed against mine. "I stand by what I said."

A startled laugh escaped him. The sound felt wrong amongst the groans of the injured and the broken breathing of the dying. Wrong, and so painfully normal that for a moment, I nearly smiled with him.

But I haven't laughed in a long, long time.

My voice was still hesitant . Each word scraped against a throat left raw from dehydration and disuse, but at least I could speak. My body was another matter. Whatever healing Cors' blood had managed had not restored the muscle wasted during my captivity. My legs trembled beneath the little weight I placed upon them, and without Charlie's arm around me, I would have collapsed.

I hated the weakness, but I was alive enough to hate it. That would have to be sufficient.

"Do not become emotional," Charlie warned. "You are still touching me."

"I can walk." I muttered.

I attempted to straighten, but my right leg immediately folded.

Charlie caught me again, rolling his eyes. "Impressive."

He was trying to make a joke out of it, but unfortunately, it fell on deaf ears. I blinked at him, unbothered by his taunting, and he frowned, looking down at the ground. His amusement faded when the silence around us deepened.

It spread slowly at first, passing through Apollo's army like an invisible tide. Snarls died in throats, claws stopped tearing at the earth, and bodies that had been poised to attack became unnaturally still.

Hundreds of wolves remained scattered across the battlefield.

Some were injured, and others stood over bodies they had torn apart only moments earlier. Blood stained their muzzles and matted their fur, making them look every bit the monsters that they were. And yet... eyes of amber, brown, grey, and black turned away from Apollo and looked towards me.

I knew what they felt. I knew what they expected, but it still made me gasp at the severity of their gazes.

I doubled over with a shaky exhale, shaking my head.

Charlie tightened his grip. "Pollux? Are you going to be sick?"

I couldn't answer.

Apollo had taken my blood so many times that I had stopped wondering where it went. I had watched strangers fill vials and bowls and carry them away. I knew what he had created with it; I had seen the monsters behind the cages as we passed down his hallways.

But seeing and knowing were not the same as understanding. And right now, I understood too much. There were wolves everywhere, fragments of me carried inside bodies I did not recognise. My blood had been forced into their veins, used to twist human bodies into wolves, and ordinary wolves into something stronger.

Apollo had built an army from pieces stolen from me, and now that he was dead, every one of those pieces was reaching home. And yet...

I could never be their home. I wasn't supposed to be.

One wolf lowered its head in defeat, and another sank onto its front legs. The movement travelled through the army until wolves began dropping across the field, their bellies meeting the blood-soaked earth with soft whines.

Submission to their defeat, and recognition that, for whatever reason, I was their new leader. The wolf they had tortured, experimented on... Ignored.

"No," I whispered.

A dark wolf nearest to us remained standing. Its lips peeled back, exposing bloody teeth. Beneath its aggression, I sensed something colder. My gift glared with a retaliation of being locked away, and I winced as his emotions hit me full force.

It had always shown me people differently. Not their thoughts, exactly, but the truth beneath their words. Intent had colour and cruelty left a stain. Some souls shone warmly while others seemed to swallow every trace of light around them.

There was no humanity in this wolf. No fear or confusion. Just vengeance; anger...hunger.

It had enjoyed the battle; enjoyed the screams and the tearing of flesh. Apollo's death had not horrified it because it had lost a leader. It was calculating whether the chaos might allow it to kill more.

"Stop it."

The word left me with none of the strength I felt behind it.

The wolf struck the ground as though an unseen force had crushed it. Its legs folded, its jaws slammed shut inches from Charlie's shoulder. More wolves dropped with it, but none of them were happy.

None of them were... humane.

Charlie went rigid beside me, a low growl bubbling in his throat.

I stared at them, stressed beyond all means. I had not commanded them to bow, not consciously at least, and yet they lay with their heads bowed, waiting for whatever came next.

Revulsion crawled through my stomach.

Apollo had threatened and enchanted them. He had broken their wills until obedience became instinct. But most of them lost themselves along the way.

I knew nothing about leading an army. I didn't know the names of the creatures bowing before me or what they had done before Apollo found them.

I had to figure this out. It had been mere seconds since Cors swallowed Apollo's heart whole, and yet it felt like an eternity. As Nova comforted her mate, I looked across the kneeling wolves and let myself feel for the first time in a long time.

Agony answered me.

Some were terrified of their own bodies. Humans taken from roads, villages and homes, then injected with things they had never asked for. I sensed broken memories and minds driven close to ruin. One wolf shook so violently against my soft command that its claws cut trenches into the mud.

Others were soldiers who had remained because disobedience meant death. Fear clung to them, but beneath it existed shame and regret.

Then there were those who had chosen Apollo. They felt differently; their hunger for strength and power overcame any semblance of kindness. They had known where Apollo's power came from and accepted it willingly. Some had helped restrain the experiments, and others had hunted the people used to create them.

But scattered amongst them were darker presences, like the wolf beside us. Wolves without remorse and already considering another attack.

Those wolves were a loose cannon, and the knowledge settled coldly inside me because some of them would have to die.

A sour taste filled my mouth.

I had wanted Apollo dead for a long time. During the worst nights of my imprisonment, I had imagined tearing out his throat with my own teeth. But this was a different desire. These wolves were helpless beneath my command. To kill them now would be an execution, but to release them would condemn others to their torture.

I raised my head, desperate to look anywhere but at the creatures expecting my praise.

That was when I saw them again.

They stood beyond the bowed wolves, close to the broken outer wall. Dirt marked their cheeks, green eyes wild with horror; frozen in a moment of shock. Their hair was longer than I remembered, drawn away from their face in a loose braid that had nearly unravelled.

But I knew them... her.

I would have known her even if a century had passed, and I had been born a new man. The dull tug in my chest called me to her, as it always did, despite the betrayal.

For one impossible moment, I was young again, lying beside her beneath the trees while sunlight moved across her face. I could hear her laugh, feel her fingers tracing idle patterns over my palm, her hands in my hair.

The first person to whom I had given every part of myself except the truth.

Then came the memory of what those pretty green eyes and perfect freckled skin had accomplished.

The village gathering behind her with silver blades and guns. Men who called themselves protectors chasing me through the forest as though killing me would cleanse the world of monsters.

I had blamed her for years, and a large part of me still did. But now hundreds of Apollo's creations fell between us, and I finally saw the complete shape of what he had done.

Clover's village feared wolves because people had vanished from the surrounding roads, and claw marks or blood were often all that remained. They had believed wolves were taking them, and it looked like they had been right.

Apollo's soldiers had fed their terror. His experiments were the monsters Clover believed I might become. Long before he placed me in chains, Apollo had reached into my life and torn it apart.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Nova approaching with Phoenix behind her. Clover's eyes remained locked on her, but upon seeing her move, they shifted in my direction. There was no mistaking the moment recognition passed across her face. Her lips parted, but no sound reached me.

She did not approach, but neither did I. My gift found no bridge between us, so whatever truth lived inside Clover remained hers for now.

Charlie followed my stare. "Do you know her? The human?"

My throat tightened. "I did."

It was all I could manage.

I looked away first, dropping my gaze to my sister as she approached. Nova stopped a short distance away with Phoenix's arms wrapped around her. They held each other as though the world might still try to separate them. Phoenix's hand rested against her back, his face buried in her blood-matted hair despite the height difference. Nova had one fist twisted into his torn shirt, curled around as much of his waist as she could grasp.

For several seconds, I allowed myself to watch them.

My sister was alive and well. She was... different, somehow. Stronger, braver... Something had changed within her, and it wasn't hard to see.

I had missed so much of her life... Of both of their lives... Heck, even their children. The family she had formed while I remained little more than a ghost.

Yet she had come for me.

They all had.