Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 153: Grace: Feared and Revered

Something’s off with Lyre.

Her multicolored hair catches the morning light streaming through the RV’s windows, but the usual sparkle in her cat-like eyes is missing. Her slender fingers drum against the table, creating an irregular pattern as her gaze drifts somewhere past my shoulder, unfocused and distant.

This isn’t the Lyre I’ve come to know—the one who’s always three steps ahead, confident to the point of arrogance and always ready with a sarcastic comment or cryptic warning. This one looks... worried.

"There’s a reason you aren’t very open with me, isn’t there?" I ask softly, breaking the silence between us. She’s completely stopped talking.

She sighs, her fingers pausing their restless dance. She taps the back of her phone with painted nails and gives me a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

"If I say too much, I risk losing too much."

More cryptic answers.

"Losing what? I mean... you don’t seem very attached to anything."

I mean, Lyre travels light and lives like some sort of nomad. This RV is her most substantial possession, but even it feels temporary—a vessel for freedom rather than something to treasure.

Her whole existence seems designed for minimum attachment, maximum mobility.

Instead of answering with words, Lyre lifts her palm. Something shimmers in the air above her hand, condensing into a perfect, glistening orb of water that hovers impossibly in midair. It catches the light, sending tiny rainbows dancing across her face.

"It could be as simple as this power," she says, her voice stripped of its usual playfulness. "Or we could lose time."

The water orb dissolves, droplets vanishing before they hit the table.

"Time?" I repeat, not understanding.

"Imagine you—back when you were terrified of Caine, running from him. Yes?"

I nod silently. Those memories feel both recent and distant—like they happened to a different version of me. And yet it’s only been a timeline of days.

Crazy how much can happen in a single stretch of twenty-four hours.

"Now imagine waking up naked in his arms, with no understanding of how you got there, and now he’s obsessed with you."

I blink rapidly, my stomach twisting at the thought. That would be... terrible. Disorienting. Beyond awkward.

Lyre’s eyes darken at my expression. "This is the kind of thing that can happen when a timeline is shifted. If those of divinity interfere excessively in the lives of mortals..."

I spin my coffee mug again, thinking it through. "So, if you tell me too much, it’s considered excessive interference?"

"Of course." She leans back with a sigh. "There are rules, Grace. Even for beings like me. Losing my power for even a few years wouldn’t be much of a hassle before, but it would be detrimental now. Even an hour can change everything."

My mind spins, trying to connect all these weird puzzle pieces into some sort of coherent picture. If telling me things could trigger divine intervention serious enough to rewrite time itself, then...

"Why are you telling me things now?" I frown, resting my elbows on the table as I lean forward.

Lyre’s lips curve into a half-smile. "Chaos opened the door. But it’s only a crack."

Each new piece of information only spawns more questions, but one rises above the others.

"Then why are you helping me?" I finally ask, the question that’s been nagging at me since she first offered me a ride when I was desperate to escape.

"Because you’re an Anchor."

"But what does that actually mean?" I press, frustration edging into my voice. "So far all I know is that I’m supposedly special and can calm down some angry moods. And that Chaos is interested in me, which is terrifying, by the way."

More than terrifying. It’s freaking me out.

"It’s more than just stabilizing your little boyfriend out there," she says, a hint of her usual snark returning as she gestures vaguely toward the outside, where Caine and the kids are still playing. "Sure, it helps his erratic mood swings, keeps him on this side of murderous..."

I nod. It does, in fact, explain a lot about how differently he’s presented himself in recent days. He’s practically bubbly compared to the man I met in the forest.

There hasn’t been a single restraint or gag. No choking, either. Instead, he’s been... sweet. Caring. Very much Boyfriend Material.

"But it isn’t just the Lycan King you can affect."

I straighten. "Bun, too."

"Mm. Yes. You can even affect..." She points to herself with a slow smile. "Me."

My breath catches. "But I don’t have to worry about touching you."

"Because I have control."

Oh.

That makes sense.

"Can... other people affect you?"

"No, Grace. That’s what makes an Anchor so special."

I bite at my lip, rolling it between my teeth as I think it through. "So I’m not human?"

"Oh, no. You’re definitely human."

Tilting my head, I squint at Lyre. "Anchors don’t sound... human."

"Your existence as an Anchor is separate from your physical body."

Uh-huh. Understanding the words she speaks is very different from understanding the meaning, and my head’s already aching.

My coffee’s growing cold; my stomach’s a little too queasy to try another sip. "Why are Anchors so rare?"

"Because there are plenty of gods out there who’d rather not see one alive."

My stomach plummets. Forget queasy, it just squashed itself into a pancake. "My power is dangerous, then?"

"Your power has the ability to disrupt divine influence," she corrects.

A shiver runs through me, goosebumps rising on my arms.

"Fate is a funny thing," Lyre continues, her voice still calm, like she didn’t just tell me to beware of gods wanting me dead. Jesus. "It exists outside of Order and Chaos. Fate doesn’t care about Plausibility, but it cares about the souls within its grasp."

"You speak of Fate like it’s a person...?"

She nods once, definitively. "Yes. Someone like you would see Fate as a being like a goddess."

"Is Fate stronger than Chaos?"

Lyre’s lips quirk upward. "Fate creates Chaos. It also creates Order. And Fate creates Anchors, their stabilizing influence in this world." She leans forward, her eyes suddenly intense. "Where gods exist, so too must exist those with the power to fight their power, no?"

She points a single finger at me, and I feel the weight of her words pressing down on my chest until it’s hard to breathe.

"That would be you, Grace. An Anchor. Blessed by Fate, both feared and revered by the gods."

I stare at her, my stomach flipping over like it wants to crawl out of my body. It’s gone from pancake to something existing on its own, and it wants nothing to do with this situation at all.

Hah.

Rubbing at my aching head, I stare down into my cup of coffee. For a second, I swear I see the face of a white cat staring up at me. But then I blink, and it’s gone. "Why me?"

"Why anyone? You were born with this Fate."

"What if I don’t want it?"

"You don’t have a choice."

I grunt. Right. We’re talking about gods. Literal gods. Not just God, or Goddess, but multiple gods. And they have... an app. Which seems rather mundane, when you think about it. Why the hell would gods need an app?

"If I’m so strong, why am I so... you know." I peek at Lyre through my eyelashes. "Weak?"

She snorts. "Can someone become an expert martial artist without practice?"

Um, no. Obviously.

Guess my question was a little bit silly.

"Am I Caine’s mate, then? Or is this just because I’m an Anchor?"

Her lips quirk. "You’re his mate, Grace. There’s no doubt about your relationship with the royal dunce."

My shoulders relax a little; I hadn’t even realized they were scrunched up to the vicinity of my ears. "Oh. That’s good, then."

She watches me for a long time, and I squirm. It isn’t like I don’t have questions, I’m just... so filled with information, I’m not even sure how to ask what I want to know.

"So... why are gods scared of Anchors, exactly? How can I affect them?" Calming down an angry god does sound like it could make some massive changes—maybe stop them from obliterating a city. But it isn’t like we have gods just roaming the world and doing that kind of thing, so it seems rather—I don’t know. Pointless?

I’m still reeling over the idea gods are real like that. We all pray to something. After coming to Blue Mountain, I learned to pray to the Moon Goddess like almost all shifters do.

But it doesn’t mean I ever expected to talk to her. Or even assumed she was really able to hear our prayers. Honestly, I never thought too much about religion or the Goddess. Either she exists or she doesn’t, but it never seemed like something to affect me on a personal level.

So all of this? It’s strange. noveldrama

Beyond strange.

Inexplicable is a better word.

"An Anchor is capable of binding even a god to them. In essence, you could become the master of gods. You could force them to do your bidding. Even if it meant you wanted to raze this world to the ground and start over again."

I blink at Lyre.

"I’m sorry, did you just say I could literally erase this world and start life over again?"

"Of course not." Her lips quirk. "I’m saying you could have a god do it for you. Assuming you got some really good sucker punch in, it might even work. Of course, then the other gods would come forward to fight, and it would end up in a war, so it isn’t necessarily something feasible—Grace? Are you okay?"

I rub my hands over my face with a loud groan. "No, Lyre. I’m not okay."