Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 127: Grace: Waking to Chaos (II)

The now-familiar beeps wake me up again.

My throat is raw and scratchy. My body weighs a thousand pounds, limbs heavy and uncooperative as I try to push myself up, but it’s still better than the dream I just had.

Something’s off. The air is too still, too warm. The fan’s off.

I grope for the light beside the bed, clicking the switch. Nothing. Power’s still out, as expected.

The gentle patter of rain against the metal roof fills the silence—still storming then. But underneath that steady rhythm, there’s something missing. No shuffling of little feet. No whispered conversations between the kids. No soft breathing from Bun beside me.

Bun.

My heart slams against my ribs as I pat the bed around me. Empty. "Bun?" My voice cracks. The darkness offers no answer, just a hollow silence that screams wrong wrong wrong.

Then—faintly—laughter. Children’s voices from outside the camper, muted by distance and rain.

They’re outside? In this strange storm? Alone?

Adrenaline floods my system and I bolt upright, my head spinning from the sudden movement. My legs tangle in the sheets as I scramble toward the bedroom door, toward the sound. One foot catches, and I stumble forward, pitching headfirst into the narrow hallway.

The world tilts as I tumble down the small stairwell, my shoulder slamming into the wall, knee cracking against the floor. Pain bursts white-hot behind my eyes. I land in an ungraceful heap at the bottom, bruised and disoriented.

I push myself up onto my hands, ready to crawl if I have to, when—

"Stay where you are, Jer. Sara, hold onto Bun for me."

Caine’s voice cuts through my panic like a knife—deep, commanding, but oddly gentle. The single anchor in a world gone sideways.

My wild heartbeat stutters, then slows. I freeze, hands pressed against the cool floor, and force myself to breathe. One deep inhale. One shaky exhale. They’re not alone. Caine’s with them. They’re safe. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

I pull myself to my feet, wincing as I brush dirt from my palms and rub at my throbbing knees. My gaze drifts to the wall-mounted solar panel monitor, and I blink, confused by the display. The battery percentage is dancing erratically, flashing impossible numbers—394%... 712%... 1046%—too high to be real.

palm. The screen goes black, then flickers back to life with more reasonable numbers. 57%. Not great,

wonder how long I’ve

a moment later, and the blessed hum of the air conditioner follows.

throat. It doesn’t do anything for

shifting face, talking about Order and Balance and Chaos like they were people. The sensation of power crawling through my

a silent sentinel of electricity use. I follow the sound, eyes scanning the small

sound the device has

it up, frowning at the unfamiliar notification banner

App (Restricted): 2

of Lyre’s weird apps? That

mental apology her way. I’m not

is sleek. A minimalist black background with glowing white text and shimmering silver icons. Three tabs glow at the top:

Under Warnings, a notification:

Detected: Mortal

hell? I tap the notification, but it only expands to show the same message with no

hesitating before I press

you, my sweet little anchor. Tell

lungs in a rush, and I’m

dream? And he’s connected to this strange app,

real. It has to be some elaborate prank, or

Breach of

newest notification pops up as I’m still staring at

CHAOS-thread intrusion beyond permitted thresholds. Divine boundary

Unauthorized Entity: CHAOS

Event Cascade: ACTIVE

Temporal bleed risk: ELEVATED

Convergence trajectory: UNSTABLE

Current Timeline Viability: 71%

Recommended Action: