The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 393: Back To The Plan

I stood miles away from the boundary.

The invisible line separating the lycan region and its colonies from the rest of the world shimmered faintly to my senses, not with sight but with power—wards layered upon wards, old magic braided with newer ones, humming like a living thing.

I could feel it pressing against my skin, familiar and unwelcome all at once. Wards made to keep mostly humans away, except they came around with a guard, someone with a keen eye to the supernatural.

This was where I was supposed to be. Not some mountain. In the stage of my plan, this was where I was supposed to be.

And yet, for the first time since I fled the mountains, doubt crept in, even without El’s troublesome voice in my head.

I paused on a ridge overlooking the land, the wind tugging at my clothes, carrying scents I recognized too well—wolves, earth, smoke, blood old and new.

Home, if such a word could still apply to me. Or a cage, depending on how one looked at it.

To my left lay the direction of the queen’s community. If I turned now, if I went to her, I could make a report. Surely she had already heard of my disappearance.

Three days did not pass quietly in her world. Questions would already be forming. Suspicions too.

But what would I tell her?

That I had awakened as an ancient? That I had fled into the mountains and returned stronger, altered, glowing with power I could barely mask? That I had slipped beyond her sight and come back of my own will?

I pursed my lips. There was no version of that story that ended well.

So I turned away from the queen’s lands and continued forward, letting my body dissolve into mist as I crossed the boundary. The wards rippled as I passed through, recognizing me, adjusting, accepting.

I waited for resistance, for pain, for alarms to ring. Nothing happened. Good. Where were the guards though?

I moved swiftly through the colonies, skimming low and fast, a whisper of fog threading between buildings and trees.

The colonies were quieter than usual, tension clinging to the air like dampness. People sensed when something was wrong, even if they didn’t know what it was yet.

After clearing them, I slipped deeper into the main pack territory.

My instincts pulled me immediately toward the area reserved for contestants. Before anything else—before Adam, before the queen, before explanations—I needed to see Isla.

I needed to know she was safe. As much as she was playing the part, she has somehow become dear to me. And with the issue of my disappearance, she would be the first to be held, either by Adam, or the Queen.

I flashed through familiar paths, slowing only as the fighters’ estate came into view. The yard was empty. Too empty. No laughter, no training, no casual movement of warriors starting their day.

But that was because they were all gone. Yet, I felt Isla’s energy around the place.

Unease curled in my stomach. Did they keep her locked in here, alone?

At the gate, I solidified, my boots crunching softly against gravel as I walked the rest of the way. I barely made it three steps before the guards stationed at my door stiffened, eyes widening as they took me in.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my tone sharp, masking whatever unease I was feeling.

They didn’t answer.

Instead, both of them went still, heads tilting slightly in that unmistakable way. Mindlinking. Adam.

Of course.

Without a word to me, they stepped aside from the door and walked away, their silence louder than any accusation. My jaw tightened, but I didn’t stop them.

I pushed the door open.

"Sage!"

Isla’s voice reached me before I even fully stepped inside. She rushed into the sitting room, wide-eyed, breathless, as though she hadn’t quite believed I would actually walk through the door.

For a moment, she just stared.

I watched her watch me, her gaze flicking over my face, my posture, my hands—as if searching for the madwoman who had nearly killed her. When she found no trace of that blood-starved version of me, something in her seemed to snap.

She barreled into me with a force I hadn’t expected, arms wrapping tight around my waist.

I stiffened in surprise. Then, awkwardly, I patted her back.

There was something raw in the way she clung to me, something relieved and frightened and angry all at once. It took me a second to realize she had truly thought she’d lost me.

Eventually, I pulled back gently, placing some space between us.

"Has the queen been here?" I asked, getting straight to the point.

Isla shook her head quickly. "No. No, she hasn’t. Adam has been losing his mind though."

I ignored that.

She hesitated, then asked quietly, "The bloodlust...what was that?"

I shrugged, as if the answer didn’t matter. "Magic gone wrong. I was testing a spell. It went south."

Her brows knit together, skepticism flashing across her face. Isla was many things, but she wasn’t stupid.

Still, after a moment, she nodded. "Okay."

It was clear she didn’t believe me, but she was choosing to let it go.

"Food?" she asked suddenly, as though remembering herself. "Hungry?"

"I could eat," I admitted.

It surprised me how true that was. The gnawing thirst, the madness that had nearly consumed me—it was gone. Not entirely absent, but muted, distant.

The priestess had explained it to me. Ancients didn’t crave blood the way vampires did. It wasn’t hunger so much as maintenance. Balance. Except they deprived themselves of it for a long time.

But for me, who was just half ancient, she advised drinking once in a while to keep the fluids running.

Once in a while... was far away. I hoped so. I couldn’t be depending on Darius for blood.

Isla hurried off and returned with a tray—breakfast she had clearly been about to eat herself. The smell made my stomach rumble, a very human reaction that grounded me more than I expected.

I sat. Just as I lifted a piece of bread, a knock sounded at the door.

I froze.

I didn’t need the sound. I didn’t even need the faint shift in the air. His scent reached me instantly, threading through everything else like a brand.

Adam.