The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 444: Powerless? II

SAGE

The idea of being taught magic again should have frightened me. It did not.

If anything, it made something quiet inside me settle. I had never been too proud to learn. I had clawed my way through every skill I possessed—combat, control, leadership—often the hard way. Starting from the beginning did not scare me.

What unsettled me was something deeper. I did not think I had the magic gene anymore. It felt gone.

Not dormant or sleeping. Gone.

As though the goddess had taken back what she had lent me. The abyss, the ancient bloodline that had awakened in me, the tether to something divine—all of it felt like a door that had closed and sealed.

Maybe that was the cost. Maybe that was balance.

I had reached into power no mortal body was meant to hold twice in one day. I had bent the sun to my will. I had burned an entire region clean.

Perhaps the universe had decided that was enough.

I flexed my fingers slowly, studying them. They looked ordinary. Human.

Was I human again?

The thought should have terrified me more than it did.

However, it didn’t. I would not be bullied again. Not now. Not after everything. Even without magic, I still had reflexes sharpened by war. I still knew how to fight.

My body might be weaker than before, but muscle memory did not vanish overnight.

I was not helpless. I was just... changed.

A familiar warmth brushed my mind.

What are you thinking? Adam’s voice murmured softly through our bond. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

I blinked and glanced at him. He was watching me carefully, as if afraid I would disappear if he looked away too long.

I shrugged lightly. "Nothing."

It was a lie, but I did not know how to articulate the weight of what I felt.

Instead, I shifted. "What about Claire?"

Freda’s expression hardened.

"She was beheaded," she said plainly. "The people decided. They believed she deserved the same punishment the queen and the others received."

I nodded slowly. I felt... nothing. No satisfaction. No anger. No grief. Claire had chosen her path. Over and over again.

Still, there had been a time she had been a girl in this pack, just like I had been.

Was my current state my own punishment for being foolish and headstrong? For thinking I could carry everything alone?

Perhaps.

Freda continued, more gently, "Lilian was let off easier. A public lashing. And she’s been assigned sanitation duty across the pack for three months."

I snorted faintly, remembering my stepsister. "That must be killing her pride."

"It is," Adam said dryly.

"And Naomi?" I asked.

"Free," Freda replied. "Her mate status shields her now."

I nodded again. That was expected. Pack politics did not change overnight, even after revolutions.

Silence settled briefly before I spoke again. "The witch community?"

Freda’s smile returned, softer this time.

"Everything has returned to normal," she said. "The treaty between the packs and the witches has been reinstated. The tensions have eased."

Relief washed through me.

"And..." she hesitated slightly, exchanging a glance with Adam and Darius. "Diana may be the next queen."

I frowned. "How?"

Freda’s voice grew careful. "Her hair is beginning to turn white."

Understanding dawned slowly. White strands. The sign of ascension.

The cave grew strangely somber, as though they were all bracing for my reaction. I could almost feel it—their worry that this news would hurt me, that my present state would make it sting.

Instead, joy burst through me so suddenly I laughed. A real laugh. My smile stretched wide, my eyes warming in a way I had not felt since waking.

"That’s perfect," I breathed.

The relief in the room was almost comical.

Adam exhaled loudly. Freda laughed shakily. Even the priest, who had been standing quietly to the side, allowed a small smile.

"You thought I’d be upset?" I teased.

Freda squeezed my hand. "Given everything..."

"Diana was always meant for greatness," I said firmly. "She carries it differently than I do. More quietly. She’ll be extraordinary."

And I meant it.

"I want to see her," I added. "And Peter. And Laura."

Then another thought struck me. "The quafars?"

Adam’s expression shifted slightly. "No one has seen them since they left," he said. "After the real Peter, Laura, and Diana returned."

Of course. Makeh. She had taken her children back into whatever realm they belonged to.

I felt a pang. Would I see them again?

Without magic, without the goddess, without the ancient blood—would those realms even open to me anymore?

I hoped so. I wanted to thank them properly. To tell Makeh that her faith in me had not been misplaced.

A throat cleared near the entrance.

The doctor stepped into the cave, his hands already raised in mild exasperation.

"The area outside is crowded," he began, then stopped when he saw me sitting upright. "Ah. I assume you informed them."

All eyes swung to Adam.

His hands shot up defensively. "I did not."

I burst into laughter. Of course word had spread. Somehow.

"I want to see them," I said, swinging one leg carefully over the edge of the bed. My body protested, but it did not collapse. Thank heavens.

Adam hovered close as I stood, ready to catch me if I swayed. I steadied myself against the bedframe, breathing slowly until the dizziness passed.

"I’m strong enough," I insisted. I wanted to see them. My family. The warriors who had fought beside me. The people whose lives had been tied to mine in this war.

I took one tentative step—

And the cave entrance erupted with movement.

A woman barreled inside with startling speed.

I barely had time to recognize her before she threw her arms around me.

"Maya," she sobbed. "Maya, Maya."

My breath left me in a rush. My first foster mother. The woman who had held me, who had given me warmth when I had nothing else.

I clung to her just as tightly, tears spilling down my face without restraint. "Mother..."

She pulled back only to cup my face, examining me as if ensuring I was whole. Behind her, more figures filtered into the cave.

Adam’s father stepped inside slowly, his posture subdued. His once-commanding presence felt muted now, almost contemplative. Beside him stood his mate—Adam’s stepmother—smiling softly at me.

Our eyes met.

There was something different in his gaze. Regret, perhaps. Or respect. After all, he had once wanted me gone from the pack. A wolfless girl. A liability. A complication to political order.

I remembered the human territory. The arrangements he had made. The coldness. For a fleeting second, something smug flickered inside me.

Look at me now, old man.

But the feeling dissolved almost as quickly. Holding onto past wounds would only poison what we had rebuilt.

I inhaled slowly and let it go.

He inclined his head to me, not as a king to a subordinate, but as a man acknowledging another’s strength.

And that was enough.