The Great Hall was as imposing as Theo remembered it—a towering chamber carved directly into the ancient tree at the heart of the settlement. Sunlight filtered in through the gaps in the wooden walls, casting streaks of light onto the smooth, polished floor. The air smelled faintly of earth and sap, a reminder that this place was as alive as the forest surrounding it.
At the far end of the hall sat his father, Thalassos Alcaeus, the head of the House of Pan. His father's presence had always been a paradox to Theo: commanding but distant, authoritative but rarely emotional. Even now, sitting on the elevated wooden throne framed by twisting vines, Thalassos exuded calm, quiet power.
The murmurs of attendants and council members seated along the sides of the hall quieted as Theo stepped inside. The weight of their stares pressed down on him, but he kept his head high, walking steadily toward his father. The boar and bird flanked him, their heavy footsteps echoing against the wood.
Thalassos's dark eyes flicked to the boar, then to the Stymphalian Bird, before settling on Theo. For a long moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the armrests of his throne. "Theo," he said, his deep voice carrying easily through the hall. "You've returned."
Theo stopped a few paces from the throne, his posture straight. "I have," he said simply.
Thalassos studied him for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the boar and bird again. "And you brought... friends," he said, the faintest trace of skepticism in his tone.
"They're not just friends," Theo replied. "They're my allies."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Thalassos's mouth, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Allies," he repeated. "Interesting choice of words. Do you expect me to believe you tamed a boar of Lerna and a Stymphalian Bird on your own?"
Theo's jaw tightened. "Believe what you want," he said evenly. "They're here, aren't they?"
One of the council members, a thin man with graying hair, leaned forward, his voice sharp. "And what of their purpose here? Do you intend to bring dangerous beasts into our home without explanation?"
The boar let out a loud snort, stomping its hoof, and the man flinched, retreating into his seat.
Theo ignored him, keeping his focus on his father. "I didn't come here to cause trouble. I came to repay a debt."
Thalassos raised an eyebrow. "A debt?"
Theo nodded. "To a village that showed me kindness when I needed it. They need supplies—wood, stone, food. I came here to ask for help."
For a moment, the hall was silent. Then, Thalassos leaned back in his throne, his gaze thoughtful. "So, you came here not for yourself, but for others."
Theo met his eyes steadily. "Yes."
Thalassos let out a low hum, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. "No one else in this family has ever forged bonds with creatures like these," he said, gesturing to the boar and bird. "And yet you did. That alone speaks to... potential."
The murmurs of the council started again, some of them clearly uncomfortable with Thalassos's implied praise.
"Potential or not," one councilwoman said sharply, "he brings nothing but trouble. These beasts—"
"Enough," Thalassos said, his voice cutting through the hall like a blade. The murmurs fell silent instantly. He turned his attention back to Theo, his expression unreadable once more. "You'll have what you need. But be warned—this debt you speak of is yours to repay. Don't expect more from us than what I've offered."
Theo nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you," he said.
Thalassos leaned forward again, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "And Theo... do not mistake my approval for acceptance. You've brought these beasts into my domain. If they harm anyone, the responsibility will fall on you. Do you understand?"
"I understand." Theo said firmly.
Before Theo could say another word, the heavy doors of the Great Hall creaked open. All eyes shifted to the entrance as the sound of leather boots echoed against the polished wooden floor.
A young woman strode into the hall, her auburn hair tied back into a sharp braid that glinted in the streaks of sunlight filtering through the walls. She was clad in sleek leather armor adorned with silver insignias of Artemis, and a polished bow rested on her back. Her presence was commanding despite her youth, and her piercing green eyes scanned the room with a predator's precision.
Theo's stomach twisted the moment he saw her. Nyssa, one of the newest Hunters of Artemis—and, unfortunately, someone he knew all too well.
"Ah, Lady Nyssa," Thalassos said, his tone shifting to one of formal politeness. "I trust your stay has been comfortable."
Nyssa's lips curved into a faint smirk as she inclined her head. "It has been good enough I suppose," she said smoothly, though her gaze quickly shifted to Theo. Her smirk widened as her eyes flicked to the boar and bird at his sides. "I wasn't expecting to see you here, Theo. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised—you always did have a way of showing up where you don't belong."
Theo stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Nice to see you too, Nyssa," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Nyssa took a slow step forward, her green eyes gleaming with amusement. "A boar of Lerna and a Stymphalian Bird. Impressive. Though I imagine they'd look even better mounted as trophies in the Lady Artemis's collection."
Theo's breath caught, his chest tightening with barely restrained anger. He stepped forward, his voice rising. "If you even think about touching them—"
"Enough," Thalassos's voice rang out, cold and commanding.
Nyssa turned to face him, her smirk faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze.
"If you or anyone from the House of Artemis so much as lays a hand on my son or his companions," Thalassos said, his tone measured but edged with steel, "our alliance will be over before it begins. Am I clear?"
Nyssa's smirk returned, though it was thinner now, lacking its previous confidence. "Crystal clear, Lord Thalassos," she said, inclining her head slightly. "It was only a jest."
Theo's hands were still clenched into fists, his entire body tense as he glared at Nyssa.
"Leave, Theo," Thalassos said, his voice softer now but still firm. "Your request will be fulfilled. You can wait outside."
Theo hesitated, his eyes flicking between his father and Nyssa. Her smug expression only made his anger simmer closer to the surface, but he forced himself to step back.
"Fine," he said curtly.
As he turned to leave, Nyssa's voice followed him, soft and mocking. "Try not to lose control of them, Theo. It'd be a shame if someone had to step in."
Theo stopped in his tracks for half a second, his nails digging into his palms, before he forced himself to keep walking.
The boar and bird followed close behind, the former letting out a low, rumbling growl as it passed Nyssa.
The Great Hall doors closed behind Theo, the tension lingering like a stormcloud in the air.
Theo sat on the edge of the raised wooden pathway outside the Great Hall, leaning back on his palms as the soft hum of the forest filled the air. The boar settled beside him with a grunt, its bulk pressing against the wooden platform, while the bird perched on a nearby branch, its sharp gaze scanning the surroundings like a silent sentinel.
The weight of the conversation in the hall still lingered, but Theo's mind had already moved to someone else entirely. He pulled the wooden pipe from his pouch, rolling it between his fingers as his jaw tightened.
"Nyssa," he muttered under his breath. His grip on the pipe grew tighter, and he let out a sharp exhale through his nose.
He pressed the pipe to his lips and started to play, the quiet, meandering melody doing little to ease the fire simmering in his chest. The notes drifted through the air, soft and steady, but his thoughts refused to quiet.
She always knew how to get under his skin. Always.
She hadn't even been gone that long—not in the grand scheme of things—but Nyssa had wasted no time in throwing her old life behind her. The first chance she'd gotten, she'd sworn her loyalty to Artemis and left the House of Pan in the dust.
Theo's fingers hesitated on the pipe, his brow furrowing. He couldn't decide what pissed him off more: the fact that she'd left, or the way she always carried herself like she was better than everyone else. Like she'd traded up.
"Bitch," he muttered, lowering the pipe and resting it against his knee. The word wasn't loud enough for anyone else to hear, but it still made the boar huff beside him, its ears flicking.
Theo sighed, reaching out to scratch the boar's side. "Not you. Don't worry."
The boar let out a low grunt, shifting slightly as it rested its head on its front legs. The bird, meanwhile, hadn't moved from its perch, its feathers ruffling in the breeze.
For all his frustration, Theo couldn't deny that being back here stirred something deep inside him. Sitting in the heart of the forest, with creatures who chose to stay by his side, he felt... steady. Grounded. The village might not have been his, but it was still worth protecting.
And his father wasn't wrong: the debt he owed was his to repay. The people in the village had given him kindness when he needed it most. He didn't see it as a burden—just a simple truth.
The doors to the Great Hall creaked open, pulling Theo from his thoughts. He glanced up to see the council members filing out, their conversations quiet but pointed. A few of them shot wary glances at the boar and bird, but none said anything.
Theo stayed seated, twirling the pipe in his fingers as he watched them leave. Only when his father stepped out of the hall did Theo straighten slightly, slipping the pipe back into his pouch.
"You're still here," Damon said, his tone as even as ever.
"You told me to wait," Theo replied.
Damon nodded, his gaze shifting briefly to the boar and bird. "Good. You follow instructions better than some of your siblings."
Theo rolled his eyes but stayed quiet.
Damon sighed, stepping closer. "Are you hungry?"
The question caught Theo off guard. He blinked, looking up at his father. "What?"
"Lunch," Damon said simply. "It's being prepared. The supplies you requested are being gathered as we speak. In the meantime, we might as well eat."
Theo hesitated, glancing at the boar and bird. "What about them?"
"They'll manage," Damon said, gesturing to the forest. "This is their domain as much as it is ours. Let them roam if they wish."
Theo frowned, but a low huff from the boar made him sigh. "Fine. Don't wander too far, alright?" he said, patting the boar's side.
The boar snorted in response, and the bird gave a sharp screech before taking off into the trees.
Satisfied, Damon turned and began walking toward the dining hall. Theo followed, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he tried to shake off the lingering tension from both Nyssa and the Great Hall.
The dining hall was smaller than Theo remembered. Its simple wooden beams and wide windows let in the sounds of the forest, and the tables—polished smooth by generations of use—were scattered with fresh greenery as centerpieces. Despite its modest appearance, the air carried the faint, enticing aroma of roasted vegetables and warm bread.
Damon led Theo to a long table near the center of the room, where a few dishes had already been placed. It wasn't a feast, but it was more than Theo had expected—freshly baked loaves, honey-glazed roots, bowls of wild berries, and pitchers of water and herbal tea.
They sat in silence for a moment, Theo lowering himself onto the bench while Damon poured himself a cup of tea. Theo glanced around the room, noting the absence of his siblings or any council members. It was just the two of them.
"I had them leave us alone," Damon said, as if reading his thoughts. "I thought you'd prefer it that way."
Theo hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks."
Damon picked up a piece of bread, tearing it apart with deliberate precision. "The supplies you requested are being gathered," he said, his tone calm and measured. "Wood, stone, grain... it'll be enough to keep your village stable for the next few months."
Theo reached for a bowl of berries, popping one into his mouth as he processed the news. "Good. They'll need it."
Damon's gaze flicked to him, sharp and assessing. "You seem different."
Theo paused, his hand hovering over the berries. "Different how?"
"You carry yourself differently," Damon said, leaning back in his chair. "When you left, you were a boy desperate to prove something. Now…" He gestured vaguely to the air around Theo. "Now you're calmer. Focused."
Theo frowned, unsure how to respond. "I've just… had time to figure some things out."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "Figured them out, or were forced to figure them out?"
Theo met his father's gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smirk. "A little of both."
Damon let out a low hum, neither disapproving nor impressed. "The beasts," he said, changing the subject. "How did you tame them?"
Theo leaned back, crossing his arms. "I didn't tame them," he said firmly. "They're not pets. They're my friends."
Damon's lips pressed into a thin line. "Friends," he repeated, as if testing the word.
Theo shrugged. "They chose to stay with me. That's all there is to it."
For a moment, Damon said nothing, his gaze distant as he tore another piece of bread. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, more reflective.
"You've done something remarkable," Damon said, breaking the silence.
Theo frowned slightly, looking up from the berries he was absentmindedly picking at.
Damon gestured toward the door. "Those creatures—beasts of legend, really—don't choose just anyone to follow. The boar of Lerna, a Stymphalian Bird… their names are written in myths that have been told for centuries. For them to willingly walk by your side? That's no coincidence."
Theo straightened in his seat, caught off guard by the weight of his father's words.
Damon's gaze sharpened, his tone calm but deliberate. "I've seen warriors from this house, heirs from stronger families, and even hunters from Artemis herself try to claim creatures like those. Every one of them failed. And yet, here you are, walking through this forest with them at your heels."
He paused, letting the words sink in. Then, leaning back in his chair, he added softly, "You may be more blessed than you realize."
Theo didn't say anything right away, his fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. He glanced toward the open window, where the sounds of the forest filtered in, and let the idea settle in his mind.
Damon studied his son's reaction, his own expression unreadable. "Maybe Pan himself has taken notice of you," he said finally.
This time, Theo's gaze snapped back to his father, surprise flickering across his face.
"It's not something I say lightly," Damon added, his voice quiet but firm. "Creatures like those don't answer to ordinary men. And if they've chosen you… perhaps it's because you're meant for something more."
The rest of the meal passed in silence, broken only by the occasional clink of utensils against the wooden plates. Damon seemed content to let the conversation fade, sipping his tea with the same steady calm he always carried. Theo, however, felt the weight of every quiet moment, his mind circling back to his father's earlier words.
When Damon finally stood, Theo followed, scraping his chair back and straightening his posture out of habit.
"I'll have someone inform you when the supplies are ready," Damon said, adjusting his tunic as he walked toward the doorway. "You should rest while you can. You'll need it for the road ahead."
Theo nodded, his gaze falling to the table.
Damon paused at the threshold, turning back to look at him. "For what it's worth," he said, his voice quieter now, "you've done well, Theo."
The words were simple, but they hit harder than Theo expected. He looked up, his brow furrowing slightly, but Damon was already stepping out, leaving him alone in the hall.
Theo stayed behind for a moment, leaning on the edge of the table as he stared at the scattered remains of their meal. His father's words echoed faintly in his mind, overlapping with the image of the beasts waiting outside.
He let out a slow breath and grabbed his wooden pipe, slipping it into his pouch. Whatever praise Damon had offered felt more like an acknowledgment than anything else, but it was more than Theo was used to.
The soft sound of the boar's huff broke the stillness, drawing Theo's attention to the door. He stepped outside to find the boar waiting for him, its hulking form crouched at the edge of the forest. The Stymphalian Bird perched above, its sharp gaze tracking his movements.
Theo chuckled faintly, shaking his head. "Can't even take a break, huh?"
The boar snorted as if in response, and Theo's faint smile lingered as he moved to join them. The forest greeted him with its usual symphony of rustling leaves and distant calls, the late afternoon light spilling through the trees in golden streaks.
For all the tension, the weight of expectations, and the uncertainty of what came next, Theo felt something he hadn't felt in years.
The faintest flicker of peace.