Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 118: Lyre: Maybe I Need to Blow Him

LYRE

I’m slouched in the only chair in this depressing motel room that doesn’t look ready to collapse, scrolling through my Divinity App while Jack-Eye makes significantly more noise in the shower than any one person should. The constant drumming of water hitting tile makes a surprisingly tolerable white noise—not that I’d ever admit it. There’s something satisfying about the rhythmic sound of someone else cleaning off the day’s grime that doesn’t involve me lifting a finger.

I have another direct message. Third one today. People are far too interested in what I’m doing, which means every step I take is going to be analyzed for Balance, damn it.

[CHAOS: Feels like the old times, doesn’t it, Witchlet?]

I snort. He’s been unusually talkative lately, which never bodes well. When Chaos gets chatty, worlds tend to crumble. Or at least have very bad days.

My thumb pauses over a new notification, pulsing red at the top of my screen.

[PLAUSIBILITY WARNING: EXCESSIVE INTERFERENCE IN REGION 23-BETA. FINAL STRIKE.]

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not this again.

Excessive interference detected in Region 23-BETA. Current manipulations have exceeded Plausibility Threshold by 417%.

Timeline strain now approaching rupture tolerance.

You are hereby issued a FINAL WARNING for deviation from ordained narrative progression.

Further unsanctioned alterations may trigger Purge Protocol: Soft Reset.

—Divinity Connect Oversight Engine, Axis Protocols Enforcement Division

"Yes, yes, I know," I mutter, thumbing the warning closed with more force than necessary. "Balance can suck my—"

staring at the

be racing against divine bureaucracy, I would’ve handled this differently, made sure I was alone. I could track down our target myself and be done with this

do as I

something bigger

Purge Protocol? The thought alone makes my skin crawl. Memory resets, localized timeline alterations... Grace might wake up with no idea how she

don’t handle

He’s barely at five percent of his capacity, and ambient

water stops. The

planted on Thom earlier gave us three hours of decent tracking before he fizzled again. Energy transfer through physical contact is efficient, but limited by

need

"Wh—what?"

I need more from him. I’d rather not lose him from

long enough that I finally

his

finally mumbles, his lips

twice. "Why are

mouth opens, closes, then opens again. "I, uh... forgot my

follow his vague gesture to the nearest mattress—the one I’ve already claimed, my bag sitting at

"That’s my bed."

one. The one that’s not yours.

through excuses, and they never get any better at it. I return my attention to the screen. "Then dry off. You’re dripping

he does something so predictable I almost laugh: he positions himself closer, one hand gripping the back of my chair as he leans down slightly. Water drips from his hair onto the

if you have needs,

is dominating alpha, but his

confusing artifact. "And who else here can process