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."

coherent picture. If telling me things could trigger divine intervention serious enough to

now?" I frown, resting my elbows on the

opened the door. But it’s

new piece of information only spawns more questions, but one

me?" I finally ask, the question that’s been nagging at me since she first offered me a ride when I

"Because you’re an Anchor."

mean?" I press, frustration edging into my voice. "So far all I know is that I’m supposedly special and can calm down some

It’s

returning as she gestures vaguely toward the outside, where Caine and the kids are still playing. "Sure, it helps his erratic mood swings, keeps

lot about how differently he’s presented himself in recent days. He’s practically bubbly compared to the man I

gag. No choking, either. Instead, he’s been... sweet. Caring. Very much

isn’t just the Lycan King you can

I straighten. "Bun, too."

You can even affect..." She points to herself with a slow

"But I don’t

"Because I have control."

Oh.

That makes sense.

people affect

That’s what makes an Anchor so

lip, rolling it between my teeth as I think it

You’re

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

is separate from your physical

different from understanding the meaning, and my

cold; my stomach’s a little too queasy to try another sip. "Why are Anchors

are plenty of gods out there who’d rather

queasy, it just squashed itself into a pancake.

ability to disrupt

runs through me, goosebumps rising on

didn’t just tell me to beware of gods wanting me dead. Jesus. "It exists outside of

speak of Fate like it’s

Someone like you would see

Fate stronger than

Fate creates Anchors, their stabilizing influence in this world." She leans forward,

I feel the weight of her words pressing

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

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

Hah.