Lee left the observation corridor shortly after Lilith’s final match began.
He had seen enough to understand that none of them were as simple as their original affinities suggested.
Ella was not merely controlling wind.
Michelle was not merely summoning lightning.
William was becoming something far beyond a healer.
Declan’s connection to animals was evolving into a system of adaptation, communication, and control.
Emerson’s telekinesis could eventually become precise enough to interact with the smallest structures in matter.
And Lilith…
Lee glanced back through the observation window.
She sat across from Captain Hailey with one hand resting beneath her chin, studying the board as though the changing rules were no longer a challenge but an invitation.
Hermes’ words lingered in his mind.
She is learning how to build the future.
Lee wasn’t sure whether that thought comforted him or frightened him.
Probably both.
He stepped into the eastern hallway and rolled his aching shoulders.
The morning training session had left his body exhausted, but Garrett’s lesson continued replaying in his head.
Waste nothing.
Lee had spent months trying to become stronger.
Faster.
More powerful.
He had rarely considered how much energy he wasted proving that power.
He was halfway toward the dining hall when Garrett’s voice came from behind him.
“You’re limping.”
Lee turned.
Captain Garrett approached from the opposite end of the corridor, carrying a tablet beneath one arm.
“I fought a Thornreaver last night and spent this morning getting beaten with a wooden sword.”
“You’re still limping.”
“I thought that explained it.”
“It explains why you’re hurt.”
Garrett stopped in front of him.
“It doesn’t explain why you’re favoring the left side.”
Lee glanced down.
He hadn’t noticed.
Garrett pointed toward his ribs.
“You’re protecting an injury.”
“The infirmary cleared me.”
“The infirmary confirmed you weren’t dying.”
“That sounds like being cleared.”
“It isn’t.”
Garrett turned and motioned for Lee to follow.
They entered an empty classroom nearby.
Rows of desks faced a wide tactical display along the wall.
Maps of the academy’s defensive sectors remained projected across the screen, several marked with red warning symbols from the previous night.
Garrett closed the door.
Hermes appeared near the back wall.
Lee remained standing.
“What is this about?”
Garrett placed the tablet on a desk.
“You.”
Lee waited.
Garrett studied him in silence.
It wasn’t an aggressive stare.
That somehow made it worse.
Finally, Garrett spoke.
“You’ve fought monsters before.”
Lee kept his expression neutral.
“So has everyone at the academy.”
“No.”
Garrett stepped closer.
“Everyone here has survived encounters.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Lee said nothing.
Garrett continued.
“I’ve trained recruits who froze the first time someone fired at them.”
“I’ve trained soldiers who could perform perfectly on a range and forget everything the moment blood hit the ground.”
“I’ve trained veterans who knew exactly when a fight was about to turn against them.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“You move like the third kind.”
Lee’s heartbeat quickened.
Garrett had seen him fight the Thornreaver.
He had seen the divine armor.
The shadow tendrils.
The fire.
He had heard the name Harvest.
Lee had known questions were coming.
He just hadn’t expected them this soon.
“I’ve had training,” Lee said.
“I know.”
Garrett glanced toward the empty space where Hermes stood.
Lee followed the look instinctively.
Garrett noticed.
“Is he here?”
Lee hesitated.
Hermes smiled and gave a small wave.
“Yes.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened.
“Can he hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Garrett looked directly at Hermes despite being unable to see him.
“Then he can hear this too.”
Hermes’ smile widened.
Garrett returned his attention to Lee.
“You don’t fight like a teenager who has received advanced instruction.”
Lee remained silent.
“You fight like someone who has failed before.”
That struck harder than Lee expected.
Garrett took another step forward.
“You anticipate pain.”
“You protect injuries before they happen.”
“You react to ambushes before most people realize they’re being attacked.”
“And when the Thornreaver went after the house, you stopped trying to defeat it.”
Lee’s thoughts returned to the battle.
Buster barking.
Declan changing.
The Thornreaver tearing through the yard.
Harvest whispering inside him.
Take it.
Take everything.
He had refused.
The objective matters more than the enemy.
“I had people to protect,” Lee said.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Lee looked at him.
Garrett’s voice softened.
“Who taught you to make that decision?”
Lee glanced toward Hermes.
The god did not answer for him.
“Achilles.”
Garrett’s expression barely changed.
“Achilles.”
“Yes.”
“The Achilles.”
“Yes.”
Garrett exhaled through his nose.
“I’ve spent twenty years training soldiers, and a dead Greek hero is teaching one of my students.”
Hermes looked offended.
“I am not dead.”
Lee almost smiled.
Garrett noticed.
“What did he say?”
“He said he isn’t dead.”
Garrett stared at the empty corner.
“That makes this significantly more irritating.”
Hermes laughed.
For a few seconds, the tension eased.
Then Garrett’s expression became serious again.
“Whatever training you’ve received, it isn’t the whole explanation.”
Lee’s smile disappeared.
Garrett tapped the tablet.
A recording from the Thornreaver battle appeared on the tactical screen.
The footage was incomplete and distorted, but Lee could see himself moving through the darkness in divine armor.
A tendril burst from his back and struck the creature.
Fire followed.
Then the recording froze.
Garrett pointed at the image.
“You adapted three times during one engagement.”
Lee said nothing.
“You changed tactics before the creature did.”
The video advanced.
Lee watched himself draw the Thornreaver away from the house.
“You did not behave like someone experiencing that kind of battle for the first time.”
Garrett lowered his hand.
“You behaved like someone remembering one.”
The room went silent.
Lee felt Hermes watching him.
There were things Garrett could not know.
The Elysian Void.
The endless training.
The battles that felt real enough to leave scars on his mind even when his body healed.
The deaths.
The resets.
The repeated lessons from Milo, Ajax, Achilles, and Hermes.
Lee had survived more fights than anyone at the academy realized.
Some of them thousands of times.
Garrett waited.
Lee searched for an answer that wasn’t a lie.
“I’ve trained somewhere that doesn’t work like this world.”
Garrett’s eyes sharpened.
“Explain.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
Garrett held his gaze.
Lee expected anger.
Instead, the captain nodded once.
“When you’re ready, I’ll listen.”
Lee blinked.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Garrett picked up the tablet.
“I still expect an explanation for Harvest.”
Lee’s stomach tightened.
Hermes’ amusement vanished.
Garrett continued.
“I heard the word during the battle.”
“You reacted to it.”
“So did your invisible god.”
Hermes folded his arms.
“I dislike his observational skills.”
Lee ignored him.
“I don’t fully understand Harvest myself.”
“That answer I believe.”
Garrett walked toward the door.
“But until you do understand it, you do not use it without supervision.”
Lee frowned.
“I didn’t use it last night.”
“I know.”
Garrett paused at the doorway.
“That’s why we’re having this conversation instead of an interrogation.”
He opened the door.
“Get something to eat.”
Lee started after him.
Garrett looked back.
“And stop limping.”
“That isn’t something I can just decide.”
“It is if you’re trying to hide an injury.”
Lee straightened.
The pain remained, but the limp lessened.
Garrett nodded.
“Better.”
Then he left.
Lee stood in the empty room with Hermes.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Finally, Lee looked at him.
“He knows too much.”
“He knows that he does not know enough.”
“That’s worse.”
Hermes considered this.
“Yes.”
Lee rubbed his ribs.
“Do you trust him?”
Hermes’ expression became thoughtful.
“I trust that Captain Garrett’s loyalty is difficult to purchase and nearly impossible to break.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Hermes looked toward the open door.
“But it was my answer.”
The dining hall was louder than usual.
Rumors moved faster than breakfast.
Students crowded around tables, speaking in lowered voices about the previous night.
Some claimed three Aether beasts had breached the walls.
Others insisted an entire pack had entered through the maintenance tunnels.
One student swore he had seen a giant wolf fighting beside academy soldiers.
Another claimed the southern dormitory had been attacked by a corrupted student.
The official announcement had provided few details.
A hostile Aether creature had breached Academy 151.
The threat had been neutralized.
No students had been killed.
The academy remained secure.
Lee knew nearly every sentence concealed more than it revealed.
He collected a tray and found the others at a table near the back.
William was already eating enough food for three people.
Declan sat beside him with Buster resting beneath the table.
The dog wore a temporary academy service vest someone had found in storage.
Emerson had his tablet open and appeared to be reading about metal alloys instead of eating.
Michelle stared into a cup of tea while small sparks crawled between her fingers.
Ella sat beside her, twisting a strand of long brown hair around one finger.
Her expression suggested she was still thinking about forty-nine candles.
Lilith occupied the end of the table.
A chessboard had been drawn across the surface of her tablet.
Lee sat down.
“How did the evaluations go?”
“Terrible,” Ella said.
“Interesting,” Emerson said at the same time.
“Confusing,” Michelle added.
William swallowed a mouthful of eggs.
“I broke a rock.”
Declan scratched Buster beneath the chin.
“I almost became a bear.”
Lee looked toward Lilith.
She was staring at the chessboard.
“And you?”
Lilith moved a digital piece.
“I learned that most rules are habits people have agreed not to question.”
William paused with a fork halfway to his mouth.
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Neither does Captain Hailey yet.”
Lilith moved another piece.
Checkmate flashed across the screen.
Michelle leaned toward Ella.
“She’s getting scarier.”
Ella nodded.
Lilith looked up.
“I can hear you.”
“That doesn’t make it less true,” Michelle replied.
For the first time that morning, Lee laughed.
The sound surprised him.
After the battle, the infirmary, Garrett’s training, and the questions surrounding Harvest, he had almost forgotten what it felt like to sit with his friends.
Normal had become fragile.
Declan leaned forward.
“What happened with Garrett?”
“He beat me forty-two times.”
William stopped eating.
“In one morning?”
“Yes.”
Declan grinned.
“I like him.”
“You would.”
Ella looked at Lee more carefully.
“What did he want after training?”
Lee hesitated.
The others noticed.
Emerson lowered his tablet.
Michelle’s sparks disappeared.
“He asked about the fight,” Lee said.
“And Harvest.”
Silence settled over the table.
Lilith’s eyes sharpened.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I don’t understand it.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That answer was true.
He understood what Harvest offered.
Power from defeated enemies.
Abilities.
Affinities.
Strength.
But he did not understand where the ability came from or why it felt so natural.
He remembered the hunger.
The certainty that everything the Thornreaver possessed could become his.
That certainty frightened him more than the creature had.
Ella studied his face.
“But you didn’t use it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Lee thought of Achilles.
The objective.
The family inside the house.
Declan.
Buster.
“Because I didn’t need it.”
Ella nodded slowly.
There was no accusation in her expression.
Only relief.
Before anyone could speak again, Lilith turned toward the entrance.
Her body went still.
Lee followed her gaze.
Sarratum stood near the dining hall doors.
She wore academy fatigues instead of Anunnaki armor, but there was no mistaking her.
Her posture remained too precise, her movements too controlled, and her dark eyes scanned the room with the awareness of someone entering hostile territory.
Most students barely noticed her.
Those who did assumed she was another instructor.
Sarratum looked directly at Lee.
Then she walked away.
Lilith spoke quietly.
“She wants you to follow.”
Lee stood.
“How do you know?”
“She looked at the western exit three times before she looked at you.”
Michelle frowned.
“That’s enough?”
Lilith’s gaze remained on the doorway.
“It was enough for her.”
Lee glanced at Hermes.
The god’s expression had become serious.
“I’ll be back.”
Declan stood halfway.
“You want us to come?”
“No.”
Lee looked around the table.
“If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, tell Garrett.”
William checked the wall clock.
“Fourteen.”
Lee frowned.
“Why fourteen?”
William picked up another piece of toast.
“Because you’ll waste a minute arguing when we come after you.”
Lee couldn’t argue with that.
Sarratum waited in an unused service courtyard behind the administration building.
The space was enclosed by high concrete walls and shielded from the academy’s main walkways.
Broken equipment crates had been stacked near one corner, and a damaged transport vehicle sat beneath a weather tarp.
Lee entered through the narrow gate.
Sarratum stood with her back to him.
“You could have just asked to talk.”
“Your academy records private conversations.”
“Not everywhere.”
“It attempts to.”
She turned.
Her expression was harder to read than usual.
Hermes appeared beside Lee, though Sarratum gave no indication that she could see him.
“You examined the beacon?” Lee asked.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It was Anunnaki.”
Lee waited.
Sarratum’s jaw tightened.
“That does not mean my people sent it.”
“I didn’t say they did.”
“You thought it.”
“I considered it.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Sarratum stepped closer.
“The beacon was old.”
“How old?”
“The signal architecture predates the current Anunnaki governing houses.”
Lee frowned.
“Then who used it?”
“Someone with access to forbidden military technology.”
“That narrows it down?”
“Not enough.”
Lee crossed his arms.
“What did the beacon do?”
“It guided the Thornreaver.”
“I know that.”
“No.”
Sarratum’s gaze hardened.
“You know it directed the creature toward the academy.”
“That is not the same as understanding its purpose.”
Lee felt the air shift.
Hermes became still beside him.
Sarratum continued.
“The Thornreaver was never meant to kill you.”
Lee stared at her.
“It nearly did.”
“That does not mean death was the objective.”
“What was?”
“Confirmation.”
The word landed heavily.
Lee remembered the creature changing direction.
Ignoring easier targets.
Pursuing him.
Testing him.
Forcing him to reveal more.
His armor.
His sword.
His affinities.
Harvest.
Sarratum looked toward the covered transport.
“The beacon recorded environmental data, Aether output, combat responses, and biological signatures.”
“Mine?”
“Yours and those around you.”
Lee’s thoughts went immediately to the vision Lilith had described.
Zal’thar watching recordings.
Lee.
Declan.
Michelle.
Ella.
Garrett.
The hooded figure focused on Declan.
“Who received the information?”
Sarratum did not answer.
Lee stepped closer.
“You know.”
“I suspect.”
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
Anger rose inside him.
“You came here to warn me, but you won’t tell me who I’m supposed to be afraid of?”
“You should be afraid of anyone capable of using that beacon.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“It may keep you alive.”
Lee lowered his voice.
“Was it Zal’thar?”
Sarratum’s expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
“You know who he is,” Lee said.
“I know of him.”
“Is he Anunnaki?”
Sarratum looked away.
“That question has more than one answer.”
Lee stared at her.
“I’m getting tired of riddles.”
“And I am getting tired of watching children step into wars they do not understand.”
“I didn’t choose this.”
“No.”
Sarratum faced him again.
“But someone chose you.”
Hermes’ eyes narrowed.
Lee felt a chill despite the morning sun.
Sarratum continued.
“The Thornreaver was sent to confirm that you existed.”
Lee forced himself to ask the next question.
“To confirm it for who?”
For the first time since he had met her, Sarratum looked afraid.
Not uncertain.
Not cautious.
Afraid.
“Someone I hope never learns your name.”
She moved past him.
Lee caught her arm.
Sarratum turned so quickly that her hand reached his throat before he could react.
She stopped an inch away.
Lee released her.
Neither spoke.
Sarratum lowered her hand.
“You are not ready for the answer.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it is true.”
She stepped toward the gate.
Lee called after her.
“What happens when I am ready?”
Sarratum stopped.
“You will wish you weren’t.”
Then she left.
Lee returned to the dining hall fourteen minutes later.
William pointed at the clock.
“See?”
Lee sat down.
The others watched him expectantly.
He picked up a piece of toast from William’s tray.
William slapped his hand away.
“Get your own.”
“The Thornreaver was sent to study us,” Lee said.
William slowly lowered his fork.
Lilith closed the chess program.
Lee told them what Sarratum had revealed.
Not everything.
He left out the fear in her eyes.
He wasn’t sure why.
Maybe because saying it aloud would make the threat more real.
When he finished, no one spoke for several seconds.
Then Emerson asked the question Lee had been avoiding.
“What information did it collect?”
“Aether signatures.
Combat data.
Biological information.”
“From all of us?”
“Yes.”
Declan looked down at Buster.
Michelle leaned back in her chair.
Ella’s fingers tightened around her cup.
Lilith remained calm.
Too calm.
“What are you thinking?” Lee asked.
“The attack had multiple objectives,” she said.
“Confirm Lee’s existence.”
“Measure our responses.”
“Observe academy defenses.”
“And identify secondary anomalies.”
Declan looked at her.
“Secondary anomalies?”
“You.”
Declan’s face tightened.
Lilith continued.
“The hooded figure in my vision was watching you.”
“He may not have known about Adaptive Therianthropy before the attack.”
“And now he does,” Emerson said.
Lilith nodded.
William looked between them.
“So what do we do?”
Lilith answered immediately.
“We stop giving them predictable information.”
Michelle frowned.
“How?”
“We train differently.”
“We avoid repeating tactics.”
“We develop signals they cannot interpret.”
“We identify what they expect us to do and prepare the opposite.”
Her words came faster as she spoke.
Not rushed.
Organized.
Structured.
As though the strategy had already formed in her mind and she was simply reading it aloud.
“Declan expands reconnaissance through animals.”
“Emerson develops nonverbal communication using telekinetic patterns.”
“Ella learns precision so she can alter the battlefield without revealing maximum output.”
“Michelle studies weather systems instead of relying on instinct.”
“William identifies the limits of his physical enhancement and healing.”
Her blue eyes settled on Lee.
“And you stop showing every ability you possess whenever you’re cornered.”
Lee held her gaze.
“That’s easier said than done.”
“I know.”
Lilith looked around the table.
“But if someone is studying us, then every battle becomes an intelligence exchange.”
Hermes stood behind her chair.
Lee remembered what he had said earlier.
She is learning how to build the future.
For the first time, Lee could see what that might mean.
Lilith wasn’t the strongest person at the table.
She might never be.
But while the rest of them considered how to win the next fight, she was already thinking about the war that would follow it.
Lee nodded.
“All right.”
Lilith raised an eyebrow.
“All right what?”
“You’re leading the planning.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Lilith stared.
“I didn’t ask to.”
“I know.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“No.”
Lee leaned forward.
“But you saw the problem before the rest of us.”
Lilith glanced at the others.
Ella nodded first.
Then Emerson.
Michelle gave a small shrug.
“You’re terrifying, but he’s right.”
William pointed his fork at her.
“I’ll follow anyone who understands the rules.”
Declan smiled.
“Even when she makes them up?”
“Especially then.”
Lilith looked down at the table.
For once, she did not have an immediate answer.
Then she took a slow breath.
“All right.”
Her gaze lifted.
“But if I tell you to move, you move.”
Declan grinned.
“There she is.”
The remainder of the day passed beneath a cloud of uncertainty.
Classes continued.
Security patrols doubled.
Instructors behaved as though the academy had returned to normal.
No one believed it.
Lee attended lectures on Aether classification, combat ethics, and breach-response protocols, but his attention drifted repeatedly.
Garrett’s lesson.
Sarratum’s warning.
Lilith’s new role.
The Thornreaver’s beacon.
Every answer created another question.
By the time evening arrived, exhaustion had settled deep into his bones.
Lee returned to his room shortly after curfew.
The damaged sections of the dormitory remained sealed, and the smell of dust and burned insulation still lingered in the hallway.
Buster lay near Declan’s bed, already asleep.
Declan sat at his desk reading an academy guide on local wildlife.
Lee dropped onto his mattress.
“Studying?”
Declan held up the book.
“Apparently there are six species of owl within twenty miles of the academy.”
“And?”
“And if I can see through their eyes, we’ll have night surveillance.”
Lee looked toward Buster.
“That was fast.”
Declan’s expression became serious.
“I don’t want another creature reaching my family before I know it’s coming.”
Lee understood.
He lay back and closed his eyes.
“Just don’t accidentally become an owl.”
“No promises.”
A familiar breeze moved through the room.
Declan looked up.
“Hermes?”
Lee opened his eyes.
The god stood near the window.
He wore his travel cloak tonight, the dark fabric fastened at one shoulder by a golden clasp.
His usual amusement remained, but there was something more deliberate in his posture.
“No Shadowed Vale tonight,” Hermes said.
Declan could not hear him.
Lee sat up.
“I thought we were training.”
“We are.”
Hermes held out one hand.
Golden light gathered around his fingers.
The air split.
A doorway opened in the center of the room.
Beyond it lay neither the familiar arena nor the endless darkness of the Elysian Void.
Warm sunlight poured through.
Lee stood.
“Where are we going?”
Hermes smiled.
“To correct a deficiency in your education.”
“That sounds insulting.”
“It is.”
Lee glanced toward Declan.
“I’m going to sleep.”
Declan looked at the glowing doorway.
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“I’m practicing.”
Declan waved him off.
“Try not to get stabbed.”
“No promises.”
Lee stepped through.
The world changed.
He emerged beneath a sky of impossible blue.
White marble streets stretched between towering columns and open courtyards.
Golden-roofed temples rose in the distance, their surfaces shining beneath the sun.
But the buildings were not what held Lee’s attention.
Books were everywhere.
Shelves climbed the sides of structures hundreds of feet tall.
Scrolls floated through the air in orderly streams, guided by invisible currents.
Stone tablets rested beneath glass.
Languages Lee had never seen shimmered across walls before changing into English as he approached.
Scholars moved through the city.
Some wore Greek robes.
Others wore clothing from civilizations Lee did not recognize.
A man in ancient Chinese garments debated with a woman wearing Egyptian linen.
A bearded scholar drew geometric diagrams in the air while children watched.
Lee slowly turned.
“What is this?”
Hermes stepped through the doorway behind him.
“The Elysian Archive.”
Lee stared at the endless shelves.
“You said the Elysian Void was a training ground.”
“It is.”
“This is a library.”
Hermes spread his arms.
“Training takes many forms.”
Lee walked toward a marble railing overlooking the city.
Far below, countless corridors branched outward beneath domed ceilings.
The scale was impossible.
“How much knowledge is stored here?”
Hermes came to stand beside him.
“Everything we could save.”
“From where?”
“Everywhere.”
Lee looked at him.
Hermes’ expression softened.
“When libraries burned, we preserved what we could.”
“When civilizations fell, we carried their memories here.”
“When knowledge became dangerous, forbidden, or forgotten, we protected it.”
Lee looked toward a distant building whose entrance was supported by carved figures of winged lions.
“This is the Library of Alexandria.”
“One version of it.”
“I thought it was destroyed.”
“The mortal library was.”
Hermes began walking.
“The knowledge was not.”
Lee followed.
They passed through an open courtyard filled with olive trees and fountains.
The air smelled of parchment, stone, and something sweet he couldn’t identify.
For the first time since entering the Elysian Void, Lee felt no immediate threat.
No monsters.
No weapons.
No arena waiting to kill him.
That somehow made him more nervous.
“What deficiency are we correcting?”
Hermes glanced at him.
“You believe every problem can be defeated.”
Lee frowned.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I just spent all morning learning the opposite.”
“No.”
Hermes stopped beneath an archway.
“You learned that a warrior should waste nothing while defeating an enemy.”
“That is not the same as understanding when an enemy should not be fought.”
Lee thought about the Thornreaver.
“I tried to lead it away.”
“And that was progress.”
Hermes continued walking.
“But the battles ahead will not all be solved with superior strength, better technique, or a sharper sword.”
They entered another courtyard.
At its center stood a single olive tree older than any Lee had ever seen.
Its trunk twisted upward like braided stone.
Beneath it sat an elderly man in a plain white robe.
He held a scroll in one hand and a cup in the other.
His face was weathered, his beard uneven, and his sandals looked as though they had been repaired several times.
Nothing about him seemed divine.
He looked like someone’s eccentric grandfather.
The man continued reading as Lee and Hermes approached.
Hermes stopped several feet away.
The old man lifted one finger.
“Your footsteps are distracting.”
Hermes raised an eyebrow.
“You have been dead for more than two thousand years, and you are still rude.”
The man lowered the scroll.
“Death has not improved your manners either.”
His eyes moved toward Lee.
They were warm.
Curious.
Uncomfortably perceptive.
The old man studied Lee for several seconds.
Then he looked at Hermes.
“This is the boy?”
“Yes.”
“The one trained by Achilles?”
“Yes.”
The old man sighed.
“That explains the posture.”
Lee glanced down at himself.
“What’s wrong with my posture?”
“It assumes violence is imminent.”
Lee looked around the peaceful courtyard.
“You’d be surprised how often it is.”
The old man smiled.
“No.”
“I suspect I would not.”
He rolled the scroll closed and gestured toward a stone bench across from him.
“Sit.”
Lee looked at Hermes.
Hermes nodded.
Lee sat.
The old man leaned forward.
“So.”
“You are the young warrior who has been making Achilles complain.”
Lee blinked.
“Achilles complains about me?”
“Constantly.”
Hermes chuckled.
“He considers it praise.”
The old man took a sip from his cup.
“Achilles considers surviving him a form of praise.”
“That sounds right.”
Lee studied the man.
There was something familiar about the name forming in his thoughts.
The white robe.
The questions.
The complete lack of concern for status.
Hermes stepped beside the olive tree.
“Lee, I would like you to meet Socrates.”
Lee stared.
“The Socrates?”
The old man frowned.
“There was another?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then your question was poorly constructed.”
Lee glanced at Hermes.
“He’s going to be difficult, isn’t he?”
Hermes smiled.
“Immensely.”
Socrates set his cup aside.
“Tell me, Lee.”
“What is strength?”
Lee looked at him.
The answer seemed obvious.
Power.
Ability.
The capacity to defeat an enemy.
But Garrett’s lesson returned.
Waste nothing.
Then Achilles.
The objective matters more than the enemy.
Then Lilith.
Every battle becomes an intelligence exchange.
Lee hesitated.
Socrates smiled.
“Good.”
“I haven’t answered.”
“No.”
The old philosopher leaned back beneath the olive tree.
“But for the first time today, you considered that you might not know.”
The courtyard became quiet.
Pages turned somewhere beyond the archways.
Water moved gently through the fountain.
Lee looked at Socrates.
The man who had spent his life asking questions powerful people did not want to answer.
A man whose weapon had never been a sword.
Hermes folded his arms.
“Strength wins battles,” he said.
Socrates shook his head.
“Sometimes.”
Hermes smiled.
Socrates’ gaze remained on Lee.
“Wisdom decides which battles should exist.”
Lee sat beneath the ancient olive tree while the greatest library ever assembled stretched around him.
For months, he had learned how to strike harder.
Move faster.
Endure more.
Survive impossible enemies.
Tonight, for the first time, someone was going to teach him how to think.
And somehow, Lee suspected it would hurt more than anything Achilles had ever done to him.