The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 369: Night Discussions II

Makeh’s words hung in the air long after she stopped speaking. They weren’t the kind that faded—they pressed, heavy and suffocating, sinking into my skin like cold rain.

Destiny. Darkness. Eternity. A goddess who cursed people for running away from their assigned cosmic chores.

I sat there staring at the old-young woman, my mind a storm of reactions that refused to settle into anything reasonable.

You’d think I’d feel fear, or awe, or some sort of solemn understanding.

But no.

The only thing swirling in my head was: Eternity would not be the worst thing in the world.

If Makeh saw it as a curse, then maybe she simply lacked imagination.

Because if someone offered me endless years—actual endless years...

Ah, it was ample time to deal with the triplets. To dismantle every plot those overpowered nuisances ever dared to think of. To also handle the vampires after that and whatever stupid darkness they came with.

And maybe travel, see the world, eat good food, sleep in soft beds, do absolutely nothing productive for decades just because I could?

It sounded... convenient. Pleasant, even.

In my head, my sassiness stretched lazily, crossed her legs, and gave off a smug little smirk. Eternity isn’t punishment. It’s an opportunity.

El’s voice chose then to explode in my skull.

Are you mad? The voice echoed with tight irritation. Did you not hear her grief? Her regret? The way she spoke of centuries of burden?

I blinked.

Yes, I heard it. But still—eternity was eternity. And if handled properly, it could be used to my advantage.

El groaned like a tired grandmother. You are going to be the death of me.

I scoffed. "You died once, you can, again..." I muttered under my breath before I could stop myself.

Two heads snapped in my direction.

Great.

Darius, who had been watching Makeh with a mixture of anger, frustration and reverence, turned sharply toward me. "Did you just scoff?"

Ah. So I had scoffed aloud. Oops.

He raised a brow. "Do you think she’s lying?"

"I didn’t say that," I replied, shrugging as casually as I could manage. "She’s not lying. At least she’s honest." Has never been dishonest. Would rather avoid the question entirely, ignore you and make you look like a talkative, rather than lie.

Makeh gave a tiny nod, as if confirming my words.

Darius’ brows furrowed. "Then why did you scoff?"

I pressed my lips together. "I was... discussing something with my mind. I got some funny feedback."

Darius stared at me like he wanted to peel open my head and check what was rattling around inside.

He wasn’t convinced. Obviously.

And then, as if the moment wasn’t tensed enough, Makeh opened her big mouth.

"She has an Other living with her," she said calmly, "called El. A helpmeet sent by the goddess to aid her path."

Everything in me froze.

Darius slapped his thigh. Actually slapped it. "I knew it!"

Heat flared in my cheeks. Deep, murderous heat. My glare snapped toward Makeh so fast the air between us might have sliced.

"Why," I said slowly, "would you tell him that?"

Makeh barely blinked. "Because he is another help the goddess has sent. Not only to assist you, but to guide you to the right path."

The right path. That phrase again.

I scoffed so hard the sound bounced off the walls. "The right path? Really? What even is that supposed to mean? Because every time someone says ’right path,’ what follows is usually suffering, sacrifice, or some divine nonsense nobody asked for."

Darius ignored my complaint—which was rude, considering it was both valid and intelligent—and leaned toward Makeh. "You said the goddess sent me."

Makeh nodded. "You are part of her design."

Well, wasn’t that just delightful.

Darius drew in a breath and said, "Then I should tell you something. There is a prophecy among my people..." Then he went ahead to say the same gibberish he had told me hours ago.

"... I felt the pull. The signs aligned. I followed them. But I am confused... at crossroads...."

Makeh pointed at me without hesitation. "The light," she said. "It is her."

My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

I pointed at myself. "Me?"

"Yes," Makeh said. "You."

She said it like it was obvious. Like it was as undeniable as gravity.

My mind sputtered.

She continued, voice calm but edged. "Sage, you are the light meant to prevent a war far worse than the one that destroyed the ancients. But right now?"

Her eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening like a blade. "You are treading the path of darkness."

Of course.

"Because of some silly revenge."

Something inside me cracked. What did she just say?

My revenge wasn’t silly. It was justified. It was necessary. It was the one thing in my life I was absolutely certain of.

But she said it like it was dust. Like it was nothing. Like it was a distraction from something bigger.

And that made something hot and ugly coil in my stomach.

I leaned forward, voice low. "My revenge is not silly, witch."

Makeh met my glare evenly. "It is small," she corrected. "Small compared to the world you are meant to protect. Small compared to the war rising beneath the surface. Small next to the darkness clawing at the edges of reality. Especially since it is even misdirected..."

I felt my jaw lock.

Makeh’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its force. "Sage, your path is bending. And if it bends too far, you will not be able to return."

El whispered quietly inside me. She’s not wrong.

I clenched my hands into fists.

I hated when Makeh was right.

I hated when El agreed with her even more.

And I hated—truly hated—that some part of me felt the truth settling in my chest like a stone.

But I wasn’t ready to admit that. Not out loud. Not in front of Makeh. Definitely not in front of Darius, who already looked like someone had handed him the front-row seat to a prophecy unfolding.

So I only said, "I’m not walking any dark path."

Makeh didn’t argue.

She just looked at me the way someone looks at a child who insists they aren’t touching the forbidden object while their hand is very clearly touching it.

And that made me want to kick something. Hard.