Chapter thirty seven: half god, half human

Finnick’s POV

Freya hadn’t spoken much in the days after Veyrix marked her.

She tried to act like she was okay, like she was still herself, but I could see it in her eyes, her gaze says other wise, something was changing. Each time she touched the mark on her chest, her hand would shake. Sometimes, she’d glitch like it was burning her from inside.

And sometimes… she wouldn’t remember saying things she said.

The first time it happened, we were walking through the pinewoods near Eldermire, looking for signs of the rogue wolves who’d left our pack. We were supposed to be building alliances, preparing for war. But all I could think about was keeping her close, watching her every move.

She was ahead of me, moving with purpose, when she suddenly stopped and turned around.

“We should let them burn,” she said.

I blinked. “What?”

She looked confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did.” My voice was quiet. “You said we should let them burn.”

Her face went pale. “I don’t remember…”

That was the beginning.

Since then, little by little, her mind would slip. Her power flared too easily. The mark glowed at night. Sometimes I’d wake up and find her staring into the darkness, her eyes glowing faintly like his.

I tried not to panic. I tried to believe she was still my Freya. But the fear was growing inside me.

Not of her.

For her.

And for what was coming.

The other wolves were noticing it too. Whispers followed her through the camp. They respected her, even feared her—but now… they hesitated.

Taron had been watching her closely. He was smart, and he knew the signs of corruption. I caught him one morning, speaking quietly with the others near the training field. When I walked up, they all went silent.

“What were you talking about?” I asked.

“Nothing important,” Taron said.

But I saw the guilt in their faces.

They were scared. Of what she might become. Of what they might have to do.

---

That night, things got worse.

We were in the northern edge, setting fire under the cliffs. It was cold and quiet, the stars shined bright above us. Freya sat close to the fire, her arms wrapped and her knees drawn to her chest She’d barely eaten.

I sat beside her. “Are you okay?” my voice low but soft.

She didn’t answer at first.

Then she whispered, “I feel like he’s inside my head. Like he’s whispering all the time. And sometime... I want just to listen.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Then She turned to me, tears in her eyes forcing to flow but she held them back. “Finnick… what if I’m not strong enough for that?”

“You are,” I said shut back but my voice low and firm. “You’ve survived more than anyone I know. You are strong enough.”

She looked down. “but What if I’m already late?”

I reached out and gripped her hand. “Then we’ll fight it__ together.”

She gave me a small, tired smirk.

But even as I uttered it, I could feel the distance between us growing.

The next day was the worst.

We found one of the rogue wolf bands beside the old silver mines. They had set up a fire maybe a dozen of it. Taron wanted to talk to them, offer them a chance to join us.

But when we got there, something went wrong.

They mocked her. Called her “tainted.” Said she was half-god, half-demon.

Freya’s eyes started to glow.

“Freya,” I said gently, stepping in front of her. “Don’t—”

But she stepped past me.

They kept mocking.

And then—she snapped.

A blast of purple energy shot from her body, knocking three of them into the trees. They hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

The rest scattered, running in fear.

Taron shouted, “Freya, stop!”

But she didn’t hear him.

Or maybe she did—and didn’t care.

She turned toward one of the injured wolves, her hand raised. Power crackled around her fingers like fire.

She was going to kill him.

I rushed in front of her. “Freya, *no!*”

She hesitated.

For a second, I saw her. The real her. Scared. Lost.

Then she screamed and blasted the ground beside us instead. The rocks shattered, trees split, and the earth shook.

She collapsed, crying.

“I didn’t mean to,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to…”

I dropped to my knees beside her and held her tight. “I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

But behind me, I could feel Taron watching. And this time, there was no hiding the fear in his eyes.

---

That night, we argued.

“You saw what happened,” Taron said, pacing near the fire. “She nearly killed one of them. She wasn’t even trying to stop herself.”

“She *did* stop herself,” I said. “At the last second.”

“Barely. Finnick, this is only getting worse. That mark is poisoning her. We need to act before it takes her over.”

I stood. “She’s not a threat.”

Taron stared at me. “If it comes to it, and we have to choose between her and the rest of us—are you ready to make that call?”

My throat closed. “I won’t have to. I’ll save her before it comes to that.”

“She might not want to be saved.”

I walked away.

---

Freya was sitting alone again, away from the fire. Her face was turned to the stars.

I sat beside her.

“I can hear him now,” she said softly. “Clearer than ever. He tells me things. Shows me what the world could be like… if we let him win.”

“What does he show you?” I asked.

“A world with no fear. No packs. No rules. Just power.”

I stayed quiet.

“I hate him,” she whispered. “But part of me… understands.”

“That’s not you talking,” I said. “That’s him. You’re not like that.”

She looked at me, her eyes glowing faintly. “Aren’t I?”

I reached out and took her face in my hands. “Freya, I love you. No matter what. But don’t let him take you away from me. From *yourself*.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m scared, Finnick. I don’t know where I end and he begins.”

“Then we’ll find the line together.”

She leaned into me, and I held her like I was holding back the tide.

---

The next morning, she was gone.

I woke up to silence. Her blanket was empty. Her scent was faint in the wind.

I followed it through the woods, panic rising with every step.

When I found her, she was standing at the edge of the cliff, looking down.

The mark on her chest was glowing bright as fire.

“I can’t stay,” she said without turning. “I’m a danger to all of you. To you.”

“No,” I said, walking toward her. “You’re not alone. We can fix this. We *will* fix this.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I saw it again last night. The battlefield. You were there, Finnick. Dead. And I was the one who killed you.”

I froze.

She turned to me, her face full of sorrow and fear. “I have to go. I have to find a way to stop him before he takes over.”

I grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave me.”

Tears fell from her eyes. “I love you too much to stay.”

And then—she was gone.

She leapt into the wind, shifting mid-air, her silver wolf form racing across the sky like a comet.

I stood there, heart pounding, her voice still ringing in my ears.

And behind me… a new howl rose up. Deep. Wrong.

I turned—and saw a figure standing in the shadows of the trees.

A young wolf, White fur, Glowing eyes, Not Freya. Not Veyrix, But something born of both.

 Freya runs away to stop the corruption alone; a strange white wolf appears, watching Finnick from the shadows.