Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 152

152 Lyre: Anchors and Divinities

LYRE

Grace looks like a spooked deer, and I reign in my arcana hard. The poor things a mess. Thankfully, she slept through my little spat with her royal leech last night.

I sigh.

“The storm’s one of his signatures. He likes a dramatic entrance, but it’s not all hist fault. Chaos can’t really exist without…” My hands flutter in the air. “Chaos.”

“Uh–huh.” Grace just looks more confused than ever as she finishes making her cup of coffee. She slides into the bench opposite with me and takes a slow sip, her eyes finally meeting mine without sliding all over the place.

Guess it’s finally time to turn the poor girl’s world upside down.

She sucks in a deep breath. “So, did I sign my own death warrant by meeting him?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

I tap my finger against the table, watching the girl across from me. Grace is trying so hard to appear casual, but her entire body’s strung tight and her leg keeps jiggling under the table.

“Have you seen any strange apps on your phone recently?” I ask, keeping my voice deliberately light.

Her eyes widen immediately. “Yes! I got this weird notification from Chaos through it. I can’t open it whenever I want, though.”

Well, shit.

The confirmation wasn’t really necessary, but it still sucks to hear it.

I sigh deeply, the sound dragging out of me like it weighs a thousand pounds. “Yeah. It’s probably because Chaos pushed up the timeline of your fate.”

“What does that mean?” Grace leans forward, her coffee forgotten. She’s a bloodhound of a human now, latching onto the possibility of answers in her strange new life.

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162. Lyre: Anchors and Divinities

I shake my head. Some truths aren’t mine to deliver, and frankly, I’m not in the mo be smote before lunch. “That’s not something I’m free to share.

Her face falls.

“More importantly, Grace, do you understand what Chaos is?”

The girl hesitates, fiddling with her cup, spinning it between her palms. “If angels exist, then my assumption would be Chaos is the devil?”

The laugh that bursts from me is genuine. The same tired binary. Good versus evil. Heaven versus hell. As if existence could be packaged so neatly.

“You’re not exactly wrong, but also, you’re very wrong”

Her brow furrows adorably.

“Chaos isn’t a who,” I explain, “but a what. Chaos is closer to the type of existence one might call ‘God‘ or ‘Goddess.”

She frowns, opening her mouth to ask what appears to be one of fifty burning questions judging by the look in her eyes. I hold up my hand, stopping her before she can derail us.

“Three ancient gods–to put it in a way you might understand–exist and rule this world and others. Order, Chaos, and Balance.” I count them off on my fingers, trying to simplify concepts that predate language itself. “All other gods fall under their purview. The Goddess most wolves pray to would be considered a minor divinity, for example. She does not have the power one would think she has compared to a primal divinity,

such as Wrath or Justice.

Grace stares at me blankly, looking like she’s trying to solve differential equations in

her head.

“Are you still following?”

She nods slowly. “Kind of.”

“To put it simply, you had a brief visit with Chaos. One of the three ultimate divinities in this world. As you can imagine, chaos is his purview. Anything to disrupt order in

this world is under his reign. Like you.”

Predictably, she blinks again. “Me?”

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152 Lyre: Anchors and Divinities.

“Yes. You.”

“To be precise, you aren’t disrupting order. Your existence does. Did Chaos say anything to you about Anchors?”

I reach across the table and poke Grace’s nose, making her blink in surprise. “What do you think an Anchor is, little miss?”

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