Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 152: Lyre: Anchors and Divinities

LYRE

Grace looks like a spooked deer, and I reign in my arcana hard. The poor thing’s a mess. Thankfully, she slept through my little spat with her royal leech last night.

I sigh.

"The storm’s one of his signatures. He likes a dramatic entrance, but it’s not all his fault. Chaos can’t really exist without..." My hands flutter in the air. "Chaos."

"Uh-huh." Grace just looks more confused than ever as she finishes making her cup of coffee. She slides into the bench opposite with me and takes a slow sip, her eyes finally meeting mine without sliding all over the place.

Guess it’s finally time to turn the poor girl’s world upside down.

She sucks in a deep breath. "So, did I sign my own death warrant by meeting him?"

"No, no. Nothing like that."

I tap my finger against the table, watching the girl across from me. Grace is trying so hard to appear casual, but her entire body’s strung tight and her leg keeps jiggling under the table.

"Have you seen any strange apps on your phone recently?" I ask, keeping my voice deliberately light.

Her eyes widen immediately. "Yes! I got this weird notification from Chaos through it. I can’t open it whenever I want, though."

Well, shit.

The confirmation wasn’t really necessary, but it still sucks to hear it.

I sigh deeply, the sound dragging out of me like it weighs a thousand pounds. "Yeah. It’s probably because Chaos pushed up the timeline of your fate."

"What does that mean?" Grace leans forward, her coffee forgotten. She’s a bloodhound of a human now, latching onto the possibility of answers in her strange new life.

I shake my head. Some truths aren’t mine to deliver, and frankly, I’m not in the mood to be smote before lunch. "That’s not something I’m free to share."

Her face falls.

Grace, do you understand what

palms. "If angels exist, then my assumption would be Chaos is

that bursts from me is genuine. The same tired binary. Good versus evil. Heaven versus hell. As if existence could be

wrong, but also,

Her brow furrows adorably.

I explain, "but a what. Chaos is closer to the type of existence one

to ask what appears to be one of fifty burning questions judging by the look in her

concepts that predate language itself. "All other gods fall under their purview. The Goddess most wolves pray to would be considered a minor divinity, for example. She does not

me blankly, looking like she’s trying

"Are you still following?"

nods slowly.

in this world. As you can imagine, chaos is his purview. Anything to disrupt order in

she blinks

"Yes. You."

wait for her to process this

I...

be precise, you aren’t disrupting order. Your existence does. Did Chaos say anything

"Sort of. He called

would. That’s because

a little longer. Part of it is for my amusement, of course—watching the confusion grow in Grace’s eyes. But most of it’s for her to digest this information at her

and cannot reveal to this child who’s

act, but Time has failed us

to douse the irritation Chaos has roused in me. Daring to touch Grace, to push her when she isn’t

What’s an Anchor,

making her blink in surprise. "What do you think an Anchor is, little

an expressive face—all her emotions play across it in high definition. Right now, she’s vacillating between annoyed and desperate, caught between wanting to tell me to

voice edges into