Nathan slowly opened his eyes, his gaze drifting toward the ornate ceiling above—a ceiling he had grown familiar with in the short time spent in the royal guest quarters. This room, a gift from Priam, was a sanctuary of luxury, yet it felt hollow, like a gilded cage meant to trap rather than protect. He raised his aching body with a low grunt, the weight of fatigue pressing on him. Every movement felt labored, as though the battle still clung to his muscles and bones.

    His eyes darted around the room, taking in the fine details of his surroundings—the elegant tapestries draped along the walls, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Yet none of it mattered.

    What happened?

    Nathan''s thoughts churned as fragments of the recent past surfaced. He remembered Diomedes''s devastating attack and the sharp, searing pain that followed. Charybdis had intervened, dragging him away from the battlefield, her urgency palpable. But beyond that, his memory was a blur.

    Then it hit him. Poseidon.

    A surge of cold fury coursed through him, and his expression hardened into a mask of icy determination. His fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms as anger bubbled to the surface. It wasn''t just hatred for Poseidon—it was anger at himself.

    Weakness.

    He replayed the moment in his mind, envisioning how differently it could have gone if only he had been stronger. If he had the power, he would have torn Poseidon apart, consequences be damned. The thought burned in his chest, but alongside it came the bitter sting of reality.

    Before he could sink further into his thoughts, a sudden presence materialized beside him. His senses sharpened as he turned, only to see Charybdis. Her form shimmered for a brief moment, as if the room itself couldn''t contain her raw energy.

    The instant her eyes met his, something broke within her. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him, throwing her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

    The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through Nathan''s body, but he didn''t flinch. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug. "It''s fine," he murmured softly, his voice steady despite the throbbing in his chest. "I won''t die." He rested a hand on her head, gently patting her hair in an effort to calm her storm.

    Charybdis trembled against him, her power barely contained, like a tide threatening to surge and drown everything in its path. He could feel her fear—no, her rage. It simmered just beneath the surface, ready to explode into a relentless slaughter if he had not stopped her.

    As he stroked her hair, Nathan''s thoughts wandered to the dream that had haunted him earlier—the memories of his past. His father loomed large in his mind, a figure both domineering and cruel, treating the women in his life as possessions. Nathan could still hear his father''s voice echoing in his ears, advising him to act the same way.

    For a time, Nathan had been tempted to follow that path. He nearly became the man he despised, especially after the incident with the Spanish siblings. Seeing Sienna, Siara, and even his classmates as trophies—it was a dangerous mindset, one that had crept in before he realized the depths of his folly.

    And Khione...

    She had suffered the worst of it. He had enslaved her, forced her hand, and used her for his own ends. Did he regret it? No, not entirely. Without such drastic measures, she would never have become his. Yet, as he held Charybdis close, Nathan resolved that he could no longer justify such actions.

    From now on, he would choose a different path, one that didn''t mirror his father''s cruelty. The last thing he wanted was to become the very thing he loathed. To lose himself entirely to that darkness was a fate worse than death.

    Charybdis''s breathing slowed as his calm voice and steady presence reassured her. Though the fire of her rage had dimmed, it hadn''t been extinguished entirely.

    "How long was I out?" Nathan asked, his voice steady but carrying a hint of unease.

    "Two weeks," Charybdis replied softly.

    As he stepped out of the room, the day''s atmosphere greeted him. The castle seemed quieter than usual, almost as if the very walls were holding their breath.

    "Today is a rest day," Charybdis reminded him, her voice soft yet insistent, as though sensing his inclination to dive headfirst back into the fray.

    Nathan paused, letting her words settle. Rest, perhaps, was something he desperately needed—but not for his body

    "Heiron!"

    The sudden sound of a feminine voice broke through Nathan''s thoughts, pulling his attention away from his surroundings. He turned toward the source and saw Astynome rushing toward him, her golden hair trailing behind her like sunlight.

    Before he could react, she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.

    "I''ve been so worried!" Astynome murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. Her grip on him tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes. "You can''t die. I know you won''t die, but I was so worried!"

    Nathan felt a pang of guilt but gently returned her embrace, his arms wrapping around her in a reassuring gesture.

    "Yeah, don''t worry," he muttered softly. "I can''t die that easily."

    The words were simple, but they carried a quiet determination, a promise unspoken yet understood.

    "Heiron?!"

    Another voice, deep and familiar, called out to him. Startled, Astynome quickly pulled away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Nathan turned to see Aeneas striding toward them, his expression a mix of relief and restrained emotion.

    Aeneas didn''t hesitate. He closed the distance between them in a few quick strides and engulfed Nathan in a bear hug, slapping him on the shoulder with enough force to make Nathan wince.

    "Finally!" Aeneas exclaimed, his voice thick with unspoken relief. "You had us all so worried, man. Don''t ever try to die on us again!"

    Nathan chuckled softly, patting Aeneas on the back. "I won''t."

    As he pulled back from the embrace, Nathan''s sharp eyes scanned his friend. Aeneas looked different—hardened. His face bore new lines of resolve, and his body was marked with fresh scars, evidence of battles fought and survived.

    "You''ve changed," Nathan remarked, his tone both impressed and concerned. "You''ve gotten stronger in my absence."

    Aeneas nodded, his smile tinged with bitterness. "I had to. After Sarpedon died... and you almost..." His voice faltered, the weight of the memories pressing down on him. "Something just clicked inside me. There was no choice but to step up."

    Nathan''s expression softened, understanding the unspoken burden Aeneas carried. War had a way of forcing people to grow, often in ways they never anticipated or wanted.

    "Come," Aeneas said, his voice breaking the momentary silence. "Hector and the others will be overjoyed to see you back." He grinned widely and went ahead.

    Nathan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. Without hesitation, he followed Aeneas through the corridors of the camp.