Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

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."

into some sort of coherent picture. If telling

resting my

lips curve into a half-smile. "Chaos opened

only spawns more questions, but one rises above

nagging at me since she first offered me

"Because you’re an Anchor."

my voice. "So far all I know is that I’m supposedly special and can calm down some angry moods. And

than terrifying. It’s freaking me

vaguely toward the outside, where Caine and the kids are still playing. "Sure, it helps his erratic

presented himself in recent days. He’s practically bubbly compared to

or gag. No choking, either. Instead, he’s been... sweet.

it isn’t just the

I straighten. "Bun, too."

Yes. You can even affect..." She points to

"But I don’t have to worry about

"Because I have control."

Oh.

That makes sense.

people affect

makes an Anchor

my lip, rolling it between my teeth as I think

no. You’re definitely

squint at Lyre. "Anchors don’t sound...

existence as an Anchor is separate from

she speaks is very different from understanding the meaning, and my head’s

little too queasy to try another sip. "Why are Anchors so

there are plenty of gods out there who’d rather

just squashed itself into a pancake. "My power is dangerous,

power has the ability to disrupt divine

through me, goosebumps rising

of gods wanting me dead. Jesus. "It exists outside of Order and Chaos. Fate doesn’t care about Plausibility, but it cares about

speak of Fate like

once, definitively. "Yes. Someone like you would see Fate as

stronger than

"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

finger at me, and I feel the weight of her words pressing down on my chest until it’s hard

be you, Grace. An Anchor. Blessed by Fate, both feared and revered by

wants to crawl out of my body. It’s gone from pancake to something existing on its own, and it wants nothing to

Hah.