The impact jarred up my arm—a bone-deep vibration that rattled my teeth. My shield slammed into his.

  THUMP.

  He didn't budge. Not an inch. It wasn't raw strength. It was technique. His stance was rooted, perfect, an unyielding part of the earth itself. He'd absorbed all my momentum without a flicker of effort.

  Behind us, Pan gasped, pressed against a tree, flute clutched like a lifeline. Wide eyes watching. We were on our own. But that's fine. I just need his eyes on me.

  "Your form is sloppy, boy." Peleus's tone was almost bored. His golden shield had barely moved.

  A blur of crimson to my left. Lena darted in low, using my clash as her opening. Her fist—wreathed in Promethean fire—became a fiery uppercut aimed for his exposed side. He didn't even look at her. His spear shaft whipped around.

  CRACK!

  The haft smashed into Lena's forearm, deflecting her punch with terrifying ease. She grunted, stumbling back. Her flames flickered wildly.

  "And you are predictable." His golden gaze stayed locked on me. A faint smile. "Is this all the mighty Pyraei can muster?" We're outclassed. Completely.

  "You talk too much!" Lena didn't waste a moment. Enraged, she exploded back with a feral snarl.

  She became a whirlwind of strikes. Her first fiery punch smashed into his golden breastplate with a sizzling CRUNCH, but her follow-up was wide, overextended. He flowed around it with contemptuous ease.

  I stepped back, unleashed two swift strikes with my quarterstaff-spear. The first cracked against his shield arm—he grunted, faint but real. Small victory. My second thrust was batted aside by a slight tilt of his shield.

  Peleus laughed. "Spirited! But undisciplined!" His eyes settled on me with predatory focus. I'm the tactical center. The one to break first.

  He became a golden blur. I barely raised my shield before his spear point slammed into it. The sound—shattering wood, dull wet impact. White-hot pain erupted in my shoulder, so intense it stole my breath. The world whited out at the edges.

  Warm blood instantly soaked through my tunic. That hurt way too much. A perfect strike.

  From above, the Tiger Owl shrieked and dove, talons scraping across the back of his helmet with a screech of metal on magic. They failed to find purchase—like scratching granite.

  The pain—a white-hot brand burning into my shoulder. "Lena! Keep going! Be careful of his range! I'll support you!" I forced the words through gritted teeth.

  I circled to his left, boots scraping dirt, fingers tightening on my spear, slick with blood. I poured Sthénos into the wood—it groaned and shimmered with violent green energy.

  "Sideros!" I hurled it. For a heartbeat, it flew true—a javelin of vengeful light. Then my wounded arm betrayed me. Sharp spasm shot from shoulder to fingertips. The spear wobbled wildly, power dissipating, thudding pathetically into earth a dozen feet from its mark.

  Cold dread washed over me.

  Peleus didn't flinch. He glanced at the failed attack, then back at me. His expression wasn't anger. Pity. "A noble effort." His voice was calm, condescending. "But you lack conviction."

  In one fluid motion, he turned his back to me, presenting his golden shield like a wall. I'm no longer a factor. His entire focus shifted to Lena.

  Enraged, she screamed and charged. Her first fiery punch smashed into his side, her second was deflected by his shield. His brutal counter-strike caught her hard in the ribs. She stumbled with a pained cry, air driven from her lungs.

  "Enough." Peleus's eyes narrowed.

  Then he moved—a whirlwind of polished death. Four attacks, brutal symphony against Lena. The first three slammed into her guard, her arms, her torso—relentless percussive beating. The final strike drove air from her lungs, sent her stumbling. Her leather armor torn, revealing angry red welts.

  A swift jab to her shoulder made her knees buckle. She remained on her feet, barely, gasping, bloodied, her fiery aura guttering like dying candle.

  Peleus stood before her, spear ready for the finishing blow. Lena coughed, blood flecking her lips. She swayed like a tree in high wind.

  Desperation. The thought was cold, clear. I sprinted, ignoring the fire in my shoulder. My spear lay embedded ahead. As I ran, my fingers snagged a vial from my belt. I hurled it at Lena's feet.

  "Veil of the hidden moon, arise! O breath of twilight, conceal all beneath your shroud! Let the eyes of my foes be lost to the haze, and in silence, let the hunter walk unseen! OMICHLI!"

  The vial shattered. Fog billowed outward. The world vanished in sudden, clinging grey. The Fog Cloud swallowed Lena whole. My hand found her shoulder in the grey—solid, real.

  "Whisper, spirit of the green glade— Mend the flesh, breathe life once more." Green energy flowed from my palm into her body. Not much. Enough to keep her standing. The worst of the bruising faded from her ribs, her breathing steadied slightly.

  "Come on, Lee!" I grabbed her arm, pulled her back deeper into swirling safety. Dazed and gasping, she allowed herself to be led. Through the fog, I heard shuffling. Pan, creeping closer. Good. If this goes wrong, maybe he can get us out.

  Peleus's voice cut through fog like a blade. "Hmph. Illusions and tricks? Is that all you can muster?" He didn't pursue. "The fog may hide you, but it also blinds you. I have patience. I can wait."

  The forest fell silent save for Lena's ragged breathing. The Tiger Owl remained circling high above, waiting for my command. In the muffling grey, Lena glanced at me, eyes narrowed against pain but still burning.

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  "Just... give me a second to breathe," she rasped.

  I whistled softly, sharp and controlled. The Owl banked in response. I took a deep breath, my hand closing around a gnarled root in my pouch. "Second's up, Lee!"

  "Charge that Sthénos. We're doing this like we practiced." My voice low but carrying.

  I felt more than saw the shift beside me—familiar heat of her focus, drawing Promethean fire inward, coiling it tight. But our advantage was fading. The fog dissolved around us, leaving us exposed once more.

  Now it was just us and him.

  Peleus stood exactly where he was, relaxed, spear resting lightly on his shoulder. Not tense. Not eager. Just waiting. Like this was all a game to him. And maybe it is.

  "Well, well," he said. "What's a couple of brigands doing with such a renowned god anyway?"

  I didn't answer. My hands clapped together with a sharp crack. "Ready, Lee?"

  The Tiger Owl peeled from its perch, diving straight for his face. As it streaked past, I ripped the gnarled root in two, crumbling it between my palms. Raw energy flooded my veins—a shocking jolt that made my teeth ache. He's seen us fight. Knows we're desperate. But he doesn't know the root. Let him focus on the bird and Lee.

  Peleus's spear became a golden blur, intercepting the diving Owl with terrible precision. The point struck true. The Tiger Owl shrieked and dissolved into a shower of fading green light. The bond snapped—a cold, hollow ache in my chest where the connection used to be.

  "Predictable," he called out.

  But the gnarled root plummeted from where the Owl's talons were, landing squarely at Peleus's feet with a soft thud.

  Worth it. He took the bait. Saw the bird, not the root.

  My chant rose to sharp crescendo. "Roots of the ancient earth, awaken! Grasp, bind, and hold! Ampélia!"

  The ground beneath him erupted. Thick vines and thorny roots burst from soil, lashing around his legs and ankles with a sound like cracking whips. He grunted—short, sharp exhalation—his relaxed composure finally broken as verdant shackles tightened.

  And Lena was already in motion—a crimson comet. She leaped high, muscles bunching with explosive power. The Promethean Flame roared to life not around her fists, but concentrated into a blazing halo around her boot.

  "EMBER BLAST!"

  Her axe kick slammed down like a meteor. CRACK-BOOM!

  The earth shattered. Wave of concussive force and fire exploded outward. The magical vines instantly caught fire, transforming into roaring, searing inferno that clawed hungrily toward their trapped prey.

  "Os Omada!" I shouted over the roar.

  "Burning Vines!" Lena echoed, voice a wolfish grin.

  The area around Peleus was no longer forest—it was a prison, a furnace. His golden eyes widened—not fear, but sharp surprise. He actually had to work now. He brushed a smoldering vine from his greave. "A crude imitation... but effective."

  Gods, I'm running on fumes. That took almost everything. I could hear Pan whooping from somewhere in the trees, closer now. For a single breathless second, I let myself hope.

  Then he walked out. Peleus strode from the burning mess with a carefree roll of his shoulders. His pristine sleeve was singed—a blackened mark on the gold. He brushed a few stray embers from his shoulder.

  Completely unharmed.

  A slow, genuine smile spread across his face—not mocking, but the look of a master craftsman appreciating competent work. "Not bad. You actually got my sleeve. That was clever."

  Then he moved. Not the explosive burst he'd used against Lena earlier. This was different—pure, economical, devastating mastery. He closed the distance to Lena in two fluid steps. The spear shaft cracked against her ribs with a sickening thud. She staggered, a gasp tearing from her lips. He pivoted on his heel, seamless, and the butt of his spear slammed into my jaw so fast I barely registered it. My head snapped back. White light flashed behind my eyes. I tasted hot metallic blood.

  He finished his turn standing perfectly between us, spear held loosely, that calm smile still in place. "But clever isn't the same as strong."

  The message was clear. He wasn't trying to kill us. He was teaching us a lesson.

  My Sthénos was nearly depleted—a hollowed-out ache. My body was a constellation of bruises layered over exhaustion. Lena was bleeding, flames guttering. He was barely breathing hard. My knee hit the dirt, world spinning from the blow. I spat crimson onto grass. Can't stop. Can't give up.

  My hand dug into soil, coming up with worthless pebbles. Not at him. That wouldn't work. At Lena. I flung them toward her, putting the last dregs of my Sthénos into the throw. Faint green energy clung to the stones. "Psiloi!"

  She saw them coming. Her eyes—fierce, understanding—tracked the stones. She didn't catch them. She kicked them. A powerful roundhouse kick intercepted the pebbles mid-air, her Promethean Flame igniting around her foot. My green energy was consumed, amplified, transformed. The pebbles became red-hot projectiles, screaming back toward Peleus with terrifying speed.

  He'd been expecting an attack from us. Not an attack from us, through us. His eyes widened—first real surprise. He brought his spear up in blurring parry. The first stone was deflected with a sharp SPANG!

  But the second was right behind, too close. This one slipped past his guard, smashing into his chest plate. The impact echoed. He actually stumbled back half a step. Golden armor now sporting a blackened, smoldering dent.

  "Nice, Lena!" I gasped out. I took a stumbling step back, vision blurring.

  Then I felt it—a warm, steadying palm on my back. I opened eyes I didn't realize I'd closed. Pan was there beside me, panicked expression gone, replaced by fierce pride. "That's it! That's the harmony! You two... you actually made him feel it!"

  Peleus looked down at the dent in his armor, ran a finger over the scorched mark almost reverently. He looked back up, and for the first time, there was no smile, no condescension. Pure focus.

  The game was over. He was taking us seriously now.

  He wasn't just fighting us. He was reading us. Lena stumbled to my side, breathing as ragged as mine. We shared a look. Hold. Distract. One last gambit.

  Then he chuckled—low, knowing, cutting through our fragile resolve.

  "A Pyraei who can't project her fire beyond her own skin." Peleus closed the distance another pace. "Incomplete. Fledglings. Too young. Too raw." Closer still.

  "You have spirit. I'll grant you that. A clever trick with the stones." He stopped just outside melee range. "But potential is not power."

  The finality was absolute. He'd seen our limits and found them lacking. He was done playing.

  A mountain. He's a damn mountain, and we're pebbles. I took a stumbling step back. Peleus wasn't just walking toward us—he was mentally occupying all the space. There was nowhere to run.

  Then Pan's palms were on our backs—one on mine, one on Lena's. His touch was sudden, electric calm. "Hold still, little saplings," he whispered, voice layered with ancient power.

  "The forest provides more than hiding places." He chanted words older than cities.

  The world bent. Not a spell I knew. Something deeper, more primal—the same magic satyrs and nymphs used, but this was different, stronger. My vision blurred, then sharpened with impossible clarity. My body compressed, reshaped—bones snapping and reforming without pain.

  The ache in my jaw was gone, replaced by powerful new instincts that flooded my mind. I looked down. Paws. Grey, powerful paws tipped with black claws. A wolf. Pan turned me into a wolf.

  I looked over at where Lena stood. A magnificent lioness stood there now, coat the color of sun-baked earth. Her eyes still held that familiar fiery spirit. She let out a low, questioning growl that I somehow understood perfectly.

  Pan stepped between us, his own form shimmering and changing. "Now, little ones," he said, voice taking on a deeper, wilder resonance. "Show him what the children of the wild can do."

  We didn't bolt. We didn't flee.

  Peleus stopped his advance, watching us transform. He didn't seem angry. Thoughtful. Then his stance shifted—subtle, but real. Weight redistributed. Spear came up slightly.

  He was adjusting. Recalculating.

  The wolf and the lioness—Lena and I—circled in opposite directions. Instincts older than thought guided us. Predator tactics. Pack hunters.

  Peleus's eyes tracked us both, expression shifting from thoughtful to something else. Genuine interest. "Clever god," he murmured. Then louder, to us: "Very well. Show me what you've learned."

  The lioness snarled. The wolf bared its fangs.

  And together, we attacked.