Present day
Hargard, Arszden Kingdom
Steel
Death.
The forest was alive with it.
I didn't need anything more than my intuition — that scratching in my chest — to know what my very bones told me to be close by. I couldn't distinguish by my intuition alone what kind of beast we were dealing with, but I could point my guess and I'd probably be right. As it drew breath, nestled and surrounded by the nature around it, the earth it'd already started to pollute directed me to the path of the creature slowly destroying it, guiding me through its steps as if forcing me to follow its scent. I knew very well the stench left by the presence of a beast. I recognized the sharp sting of death and iciness it left as its mere presence began to poison the world around it. The signs couldn't be seen by the naked eye, but I felt them as if they were banners shaking in the wind. The winters had been kind in teaching me exactly how deathly beasts truly were and how much their being in the human realm destroyed the very earth they walked on and poisoned all life they touched.
I had never been sure why I could feel them so clearly.
I'd never actually wondered much. To me, my instincts had always just been another part of me, much like a fifth limb or a third eye. I'd never questioned why I had it and using it had become like second nature to me. To some extent, it had slowly become a part of me and who I was, something I never thought about but knew was there whenever I needed it.
"We're getting closer."
I smirked.
We are very close.
I turned to throw a look at Theron, nestled among the rustling branches no more than four feet away from me. I could see through the faint light of the moonlight igniting the small patch of trees we were currently hiding in that he'd unsheathed his sword, fisting it tight in his grip and making it glint in the spraying moonlight.
Theron Esteban was my second oldest Melig.
I'd met him as only a boy.
Before some greater force decided to make him a Melig and bind his life with mine.
In the grand scheme of things, I didn't really have a choice in who was chosen to be united with me in my crusade. My father, mostly, wanted me to think otherwise — and he'd tried to convince me of that many times over time —, but I knew his hand was in the picking of who stood by my side in this war, as it was on all things. For the most part, I didn't object, because all the people I'd been gifted to share my quest with had been nothing if not blessings in my existence, but I did wonder how far his designs went in interfering in my life.
After all, if he'd interfered with so much already, how could I believe he wouldn't intervene in that much more?
Theron was, like all others, no exception.
He was tall and scrawny, with light brown hair that curled to the top of his collar. His eyes were dark, almost as black as the forest around us, and he had a boyish, innocent smile. He was prone to some rebellion and could manage sarcasm and irony in a way I'd never seen a human being capable of before, but he was loyal and, above all else, honest to the bone. He wore a long, dark, warm coat over a white shirt and black pants, with strong, warm fur boots completing the ensemble. His dark clothing hung loosely on his slim frame. The black fabric blended in with the night, giving him a shadowy appearance. A longsword sheathed at his side completed the look of a formidable warrior. However, even though he dressed in all black and was as silent as a shadow as he moved through the forest on my flank, Theron stood out among all the others for two distinct reasons. Firstly, he could be endearingly charming, so much so that he could lead a servant priestess to offer up her pure being to sinful delight. And secondly, whenever he wasn't intentionally being friendly — or too friendly, for that matter —, waves of tension and menace radiated off him. For all his apparent carelessness, Theron was a great hunter. He had instincts as sharp as a knife, and he had an attention to detail that defied nature.
Which made him very dangerous.
"It's here," Kozun's voice sounded somewhere to my left, as gentle as the blowing breeze.
Kozun Galien, on the other hand, was what I could only describe as the most inconspicuous, harmless-looking man on the face of this earth. He rarely spoke above a whisper and his movements seemed to lack a certain gravity, as if he was floating through time and space instead of walking. His clothing consisted of nothing more than a simple brown tunic and breeches with a small leather pouch slung across his back. He carried no sword or bow and had no visible tools for hunting — though that made him no less dangerous in a fight —, but still managed to remain one step ahead of our group as we marched through the forest. He seemed to have an uncanny sense of direction and a sixth sense that allowed him to track beasts before any of us did — one that was better, even, than my own.
As one who had been rather skeptical about his presence at first, I had grown to admire Kozun's skill and dedication when it came to hunting.
Even if handy in a fight, Kozun was usually best put to practice by using his instincts. He was our eyes during the night hours, silently scouting out places where we might find beasts, tracking them through the lands or gaining an advantage in nests and lairs. He had a knack for finding resources and scavenging, and he carried our supply of all things medicinal and on-the-move crafting.
Theron walked behind me, keeping a close watch for any signs of danger while Kozun continued his silent vigil for prey ahead of us to my left. The two were like yin and yang, in that sense. Theron was strong but often reckless. Kozun was cautious yet always prepared for whatever may come our way. Together, they made quite an unstoppable force — one that had ensured us success no matter what challenges have arisen along the way.
Theron and I moved silently and swiftly, navigating through the shadows that saturated the small settlement we were shortly arriving at. He kept himself close to my right flank, his hands securely around the hilt of his weapon, prepared for anything that might come our way.
The village was quiet.
Eerily so.
The sky had been an endless sea of gray for the past three days, and the snow hadn't stopped falling. It now reached at least ten inches deep, covering everything in its powdery embrace. As we cautiously made our way through the forest, our footsteps muffled by the fresh layer of snow, not a single creature crossed our path. Even the birds were silent, hunkered down somewhere warm and dry. We saw no living souls as we skulked in, silently moving through the forest with no sounds to hear us by. No animals or humans seemed to populate the area. Only an ever-present chill filled the air. The stillness was eerie, making us feel like intruders in this winter wonderland. Even though there were no signs of life, I could still feel eyes watching us from somewhere in the darkness.
We cautiously made our way through the shadows of the sleeping forest lit by a silvery moonlight that cast elongated shadows behind us. Kozun was currently taking point as we ventured closer to the small village, and I followed close behind him, my senses tightly wound as if anticipating something to come alive before us.
"Can you feel it?" Theron asked.
"Yes."
"We are not far from it," Kozun announced. "It nests close by. It's been feeding on the village's people, but I don't think it's been nesting there."
I felt the throbbing pulse of the Mörk swatting at my skin, almost as if it was calling out to me. Every time I breathed, its pungent acid smell filled my nostrils, making the back of my throat tingle like I'd eaten a rotten apple by mistake and instead of spitting it out, I was forcing myself to swallow it. If I closed my eyes, I could probably pinpoint the exact location of the Mörk.
It was odd remembering what it had been like before this.
And how, looking back, it felt like I'd been living blindfolded.
"Well, that would be obvious," Ahya sourly hissed from her cover behind and over us, up in the oak tree she'd scaled to get a better view of the small village. "It would be a little hard to explain a massive beast's nest in the middle of a settlement square, don't you think?"
I admired the height she'd climbed interestedly.
She'd climbed the tree trunk to the lowest branch that'd grown pointed southbound and was sturdy enough to bear her weight. Its thinner tip now bounced with the blowing breeze, the leaves camouflaging her all dressed in black perfectly. Her dark hair peeked out of the hood of her vest, framing her face in a gentle and wild way.
Ahya Rainer, a woman of the North through and through.
Ahya was a petite woman with middle-length raven hair. Her eyes were a deep brown, sharp, and inquisitive, always studying her surroundings with a trained eye. She carried herself with an air of strength and confidence, exuding a quiet power that belied her size. Even in the darkness of night, she seemed to stand out in sharp relief against the backdrop of carnage and shadows, but it was her sight, more than her skills, that made her valuable.
Her intuition, she sometimes called it.
Theron looked up with a scowl on his lips, giving her a stern look, which she returned with a wink and a smirk. His clear displeasure deepened into a complete frown. "Well, thank you, Ahya. Your contribution was tremendously helpful, but if you have nothing else of use to say, just keep it to yourself."
I eyed the woman perched on the branch of the tree almost directly above Theron's head. "Ahya."
She gave me a curt nod of her head, closing her eyes for a few brief seconds, understanding beyond words what I needed from her at this moment, so she could guide us in our course of action.
I lowered my gaze back to Theron, leveling it with his. "Let her see."
I felt the tingle of Theron's exasperation grow as his temper burst. "You might be willing to wait for it to —"
"Shut up, Theron."
He stared at me, sword raised and eyes shining with a hunting instinct that clearly went much deeper than the skin. "What?"
I stared right back, raising a brow.
"Don't argue with Steel on this, Theron," Kozun crooned from ahead, lowering to one knee while his hands searched something on the ground, pushing snow and fallen leaves away to clear the ground beneath. "He is right to wait. If we know where it's going, we can kill it at once and avoid any more bloodshed. Enough people have lost their lives."
Theron started to move as if he was going to get up.
"Theron," I warned, shaking my head at him — vehemently. "Stand down."
He lifted a finger to point at the houses in front of us, not half a mile away. "I'm killing that thing."
I molded my voice to sound deadly calm and quiet in the polished stillness of the night. "You're not killing anything before I say so, Theron."
He got up abruptly, almost menacingly as he tipped his angry, rebellious stare at me.
"Sit your ass back down, Theron," I ordered, my voice sharpening as the threat came out of my voice unbridled. "We're not killing that Mörk without knowing if he's been nesting with others and where that nest is so we can destroy it. We're doing this the right way."
He narrowed his eyes. "The right way would have been to kill it before it slaughtered any innocent lives."
He was a stubborn bastard when he really wanted something.
While I admired that quality on most days, I hated it when he used it to undermine my authority or defy my orders.
"It's hibernating right now. I think it's possessed someone recently, so it's still adjusting. It won't be active for nearly a full day. I don't see the nest, though," Ahya's voice came slowly and paused, as her brows furrowed while she sought deeper. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's nearby somewhere underground where it won't be easily disturbed or sighted by humans passing by, but I can't tell for sure."
"Steel —"
"Don't defy me, Theron," I warned, but it sounded like a sighing request instead.
"Are you jesting, mate?" He pointed again in clear frustration at the small hurdle of houses in front of us, where we could all feel the presence of something that wasn't supposed to be there. "That thing is just sitting there, sleeping without a single care in the world and we're just going to let it live?"
Ahya sighed deeply. "We've had this discussion every single time we've tracked down a Mörk. Get over it, Theron," I heard her drop down to the ground with a shallow, gentle flop, all grace and agility, as she found purchase in the branches and hopped down onto the firm ground below. She landed softly, barely a sound made as her boots connected with the snow. She then brushed off her clothes and adjusted the cowl on her head before turning back to us. Silently, she made her way to us, converging at my side and crossing her arms above her chest as she glared at Theron with a severe stare. "We have our rules and we're going by them. Like always."
Theron rose abruptly, sheathing his sword so abruptly and violently it was almost as if he meant it to be a threat.
Beyond him to my right, Jasiel popped up from the cover of the foliage as well, slowly coming our way. He tapped Theron on the shoulder once as he approached and laughed at the youngster as he disheveled his hair. "Always charging in, Theron, right? No matter how many centuries go by, you will never change, will you? Diving head-first into a fight."
Jasiel Peregrine had long, unkempt sand-blond hair and playful blue eyes. He stood over six feet tall — nearly as tall as I was and the tallest of the group except for me —, with a broad chest and muscular arms. He wore a tan leather vest and carried a sword at his side. He moved with an animal-like grace, light on his feet and sure of himself. His face was framed by his long locks of hair — almost as long as mine —, and his smile was ridiculously infectious, making him someone who was rather easy to get along with.
Theron swatted him away with a shake of his shoulders and a step to the side. "Well, what's the point in being immortal if you change over the years? The entire purpose is to stay the same way forever."
I held my laughter.
"I happen to think it'd do some of us some good…" Jasiel muttered under his breath, pulling away from the younger man and clapping him a few times on the back. "Might even save a few of us from untimely death."
The others laughed and the stress bubbled out of existence as the tension ebbed away.
"Steel."
The sound of my name made me turn.
Kozun was walking up to me with slow steps, but it was the glow in his eyes that called to my attention. There was a predatory gleam to his eyes and I immediately knew that while we bickered he'd pinpointed the exact location of the Mörk. "The beast is nesting two thousand yards south of the village. It's a cave. It's partially hidden by the snow, but the entrance is easy to access."
I caught Ahya's smirk and nodded my acknowledgment.
She'd been right.
Some part of me had already guessed it was nearby, but I nodded anyway.
"I think the Mörk is aware we're nearby, although I'm not sure it's sensed we're here already," he stopped, angling his head to the side almost as if he was hearing something the rest of us couldn't. "It grows restless, so it's been overly zealous covering its tracks."
The Mörk's restlessness worried me because it meant it would rush him and could try to escape, which would make us go back to square one, tracking it and finding it elsewhere.
It wasn't the plan.
I wanted to kill it here. That was the ideal goal. Having it travel to another village meant it'd have the opportunity to create chaos there. Plus, if it sensed we were near and it felt trapped, it'd trade hosts and start raising havoc among the people here before escaping, knowing we'd have no chance of containing it in time with running villagers and a murdering Mörk rummaging the village. If it escaped, we'd have to isolate the population of the village first, then fight off the Mörk and kill it. And even under the cover of darkness, before we knew it, we'd be vulnerable out in the open with a massacre on our hands.
Definitely not an option.
We needed to do this from the shadows. Silently. Quietly. And without eyes on us.
I looked out to the village.
Just as Kozun had said, there was a fountain in the eastern part of the village. The small village had been built in a small clearing amidst the oak forest, with a small longhouse in the center and a fountain. It was secluded and guarded, unlike not many other places I'd seen before. The only access road to it came from the northeastern side of the clearing, giving access to the nearest town to the east. Like most villages, the fountain was their supply of water, which meant that all the houses were angled around the center. The closest house to us was a one-story only building, made of polished brick that looked like it'd seen many rough winters. The stone was stained from the probably almost-permanent dripping of water from the roof through its walls and I could see there were only two windows and a door. The chimney was softly blowing smoke from a fire, most likely, still lighted inside to keep the house lit and to warden off the cold.
Mörk beasts weren't stupid.
If anything, time had made them even smarter. Being hunted made them less careless, as they had once been. For us, their carelessness had once proved most welcome, but ever since we had scarced their numbers, they started getting more cunning. They knew we wouldn't openly murder anyone to get the Mörk to come out, so they chose their hosts with great care and premeditation. They often chose children and impaired people, easily controllable hosts that wouldn't fight them if they needed to take over. People whose behavior would go unnoticed if deemed strange.
Of course, choosing such easy targets often came with risks as well.
Firstly, tender-aged hosts weren't as reliably capable as older ones, which meant, in a way, they were weakened when inside them. More often than not, whenever they needed to spread Skyggers, they almost always traded hosts before, which would mean double the lives taken. Also, their disappearance would raise much more commotion and attention to their presence. However, I'd come to understand that was an added cost they rarely took into account. Nowadays, they only ever took over when it proved extremely necessary, which had been another way in which they'd wised up. Possessions and disappearances used to be the most common clue we'd get to their whereabouts.
But not anymore.
"So, what now?" Theron asked.
"Do we know who it's possessing, now?" Jasiel's voice thundered in the darkness and the breeze blowing around us.
"I couldn't see," Ahya offered gently. "Though I'd wager it's a male."
"The tracks I've been following are of a male," Kozun agreed.
Ahya smirked.
"Okay, then what now?" Theron repeated.
I raised my eyes to the sky.
I felt the sudden need to sigh, but something made me hold the air in. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The cold winter wind was picking up, blowing strands of my hair into my face and causing my cloak to ripple behind me.
"Well, we can't all go on the hunt," I finally said.
Theron let out a frustrated grunt and Kozun shifted uneasily on his feet. Jasiel remained silent, his eyes focused on the small settlement. Ahya stood next to me, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword tightly.
"We can split up, but if we don't kill the Mörk, we can't protect the entire population," Theron protested. "If it somehow escapes through the hunting group, we won't be able to keep the panic from making the humans easy prey."
"It's a viable option, though," I replied calmly, changing my weight as I eyed the group gathered around me. "We can't risk alerting the Mörk to our presence and by attacking by surprise we ensure it doesn't have time to run. And if a few of us stay behind to keep the village people protected while the others hunt, it would help the rest of us do our job."
"Sure, I can quietly check on them and keep watch," Ahya offered before anyone else could speak. "If the Mörk escapes, I'll be able to see it."
I nodded in approval. "That would be great, Ahya."
"I can stay with Ahya," Jasiel offered, squeezing my arm reassuringly.
I drew my gaze to him, thanking him wordlessly.
As for Jasiel, he had always been great at keeping track of the things I wanted without me having to say them aloud. It was a crucial skill, particularly in our line of work. Even though I've always thought it was slightly more pronounced in what concerned my emotions and my thoughts and needs, I'd come to understand it was actually an ability he'd partially been born with. Not just an acquired skill. His ability to read people was what ultimately made him great to work with, mostly because not a word needed to be said before he said or did or appeared where he was needed the most.
As my Meligs, each of these four beings had a completely different link to me that made them all completely irreplaceable.
I valued neither any more nor any less because of it.
Each had unique skills and qualities that made them not only my companions but my family as well.
"I'm going with you," Theron clarified as if he thought anyone had expected any different.
Ahya snorted. "I'm not sure any of us wondered."
Kozun lifted his eyes to mine, mouth drawn into a stiff line. "I can give you the exact location of the cave, but I think it might be best if I stay behind and help with any wounded." His eyes darted between Theron and me. "And I'll prepare for your return, in case you need me."
Kozun was, at his core, also a healer and it felt right to let him stay behind and tend to the injured Children of Clay, as well as Theron and myself, should either of us return with battle-wounds from the hunt.
I nodded.
Kozun started to turn around himself, his arm raised to point —
A caw interrupted him.
"Well…" I chuckled lightly. "I suppose Thora will guide us, instead."
Kozun smiled shyly, though the furrow of concern never left his brows, and nodded in agreement. The others followed him as he started for the settlement and I heard the three of them begin discussing their plan and sorting through the possibilities of their hide-outs should the night prove to be uneventful.
With a heavy breath, I turned my attention to the sky again, this time looking for the pair of black wings I knew would be circling above us.
My crow.
It took me a few seconds, but then I saw her as she swooped down towards me, landing gracefully on my shoulder. Her talons squeezed my flesh gently and the hold made me question if she'd missed me as much as I'd missed her. "Hello, Thora," I greeted her, stretching my arm until she made her way to my forearm, stroking her soft feathers with my fingertips.
Thora rustled hoarsely in response and her voice exploded in my mind unexpectedly as she rubbed her beak along my palm tenderly, before taking off again and flying south toward the cave. I came as soon as I felt you nearing the Mörk. They're growing more dangerous and it's been a long time since you've hunted one.
I was mildly surprised.
Thora's voice was, to say the least, a contradiction to most of her dialogue with me. The sound of her voice was like a low hum in my mind, as smooth as a flowing river, melodic and smooth. Each word dripped with a honeyed sweetness, masking the sharp intelligence and cunning beneath. It was filled with understanding and comfort, as if she knew all of my worries and fears. But underneath that, there was also a hint of fierce determination, almost like a reminder that we were one and that, despite belonging together, she was an entity to be feared on her own.
Unease settled in my stomach. You didn't have to come.
I could take care of myself.
I do as I please, Steel, she reminded me in a soft voice, though it felt like a scolding. And I want to be near in case you need me.
I chuckled to myself. Would you like a thank you?
Slowly, we both angled our bodies to the south, following Thora, our footsteps light in the snow.
It would be nice of you, actually.
I snorted.
Just like Thora to seek my reverence at every chance she got.
Much like the mystical being she was, Thora knew fully well how powerful and valuable she was and she used that as her entire personality. I didn't doubt for one single second she worried about me and, to the deepest part of her being, cared about me maybe twice as much as I cared about her, but that didn't mean she didn't know how to be pissy and bossy and smug like an old lady.
Which I suppose she was, being alive for three hundred years and all.
Theron walked silently beside me, his mind clearly occupied with thoughts I could only imagine. "I really try not to, but sometimes I really envy you," he suddenly said, breaking the silence between us.
I raised an eyebrow, confused by his words, slowing my pace. "Envy me?"
He nodded. "Yes. You're a crow-bearer, Steel."
I was aware.
I wouldn't be so sure, Thora commented sourly.
It would be nice of you not to eavesdrop, I retorted her own words back to her.
She cowed up in the sky in answer. I won't dignify that with an answer.
I smiled.
She already had.
I turned my attention back to Theron.
At first, I didn't know what to say back to him. The idea of someone envying me for being a crow-bearer was absurd. But then I remembered that Theron had never seen a Skera like Thora — a being so tightly bound to me she came whenever she sensed I needed her, who could fly above me and see things from a different perspective, who could guide me and warn me of danger.
"You know that's not really a thing, right?" I chuckled.
Thora seemed to screech in agreement as she circled back towards us, the sound echoing in the silence of the rustling oak trees and blowing, brisk breeze, almost as if she was checking to make sure we were still following her.
Which we were.
"We move a bit slower than you fly, Thora," I told her aloud gently, my voice filled with concern and gratitude.
She rustled in answer, soaring slower directly above us, deciding not to answer me through the bond, probably still bitter about my snide comment on her eavesdropping on my conversation with Theron.
"I know," Theron answered, tipping his head to the sky as if he were hoping to catch a glimpse of the crow. "But every time I watch her come to you like this, I can't help feeling like you don't appreciate her enough. As in, you don't realize how special she is."
I understood why he'd feel that way.
Our society's history was riddled with stories of Skera beings. While they weren't conventional, they had been present all over the lore younger children like Theron had grown up being told about. It must have been difficult to come to terms with the fact that they were real and not just fairy tales. Even for me, being a crow-bearer was sometimes overwhelming. The bond between Thora and I was profound, and yet there were days when I couldn't comprehend it. But I had learned to appreciate her presence and guidance, especially during the most trying times.
My thoughts drifted back to the history of our society and how Skera beings came to be known.
It was a long time ago, so long that only the oldest records spoke of their existence. The lore said they'd been offered to the Gods as a way to keep them grounded and to make sure they understood the emotional ties of love and loyalty. Fundamentally, it'd been a way to make sure the Ancient Ones kept their humanity through the centuries by cutting and trapping a piece of their soul in a living, breathing being that had been born solely from them and for them, to keep them company and give them solace in the hardest of times.
To keep them humane.
To keep them from forgetting.
It was only many winters later that Skera started to be bestowed upon chosen Children of Clay which had been deemed by the Gods as worthy of their divine counterpart.
But some sought to exploit the Skera for their own gains.
Once their existence became widely known, the Children of Clay started capturing them, selling them, and using them for their own purposes. It wasn't until the Gods — angered by the way the humans treated their divine gift —, got involved in the matter that the Children of Clay understood the true purpose of these soul-bound creatures, as pure and innocent as their own young.
Thus, they were much too late.
The Higher Ones took away every Skera on the mortal realm, transporting them all into their celestial plane, and left the Children of Clay unprotected and fractured, so they'd learn to never again use their blessings in such foul ways.
But it was, ultimately, the turning point in the outlook on Skera beings for the lesser creatures of the Gods.
From that moment on, Skera beings weren't just seen as tools or pets, but as equals with their own thoughts and emotions. Parts of their halves that had use beyond that of mere exhibitionism.
Though none had ever been seen in the land of Children of Clay after that.
Thora's presence was daily a reminder of that dark history — yet another that clouded the path tracked by the Children of Clay. She wasn't just a crow, but a being with her own will and desires. And I appreciated her all the more for it.
"I do appreciate her."
"It doesn't seem so, sometimes."
He isn't entirely wrong, is he? Thora questioned and I heard the amusement in her voice as her emotions bloomed through the bond. She was a similarly beautiful and ethereal being, but she had a temper and a mouth on her. The gift of my existence is sometimes lost on you.
I purposefully ignored her, instead returning to my conversation with Theron. "It doesn't?"
Thora ruffled her feathers in annoyance as I ignored her teasing remarks.That is just rude of you.
Though bound to me through our soul's connection, her feisty spirit sometimes clashed with my more serious nature, which made me exhale through my nose in what sounded more like a sigh. You're rubbing off on me.
Thora cocked her head and regarded me thoughtfully. After a moment, her consciousness touched mine gently. I'd argue you're evolving, then.
I smiled in amusement. I suppose that means I'm forgiven.
Theron pushed in a breath. "It's just that, well, you don't seem to realize whenever you see her that there are people who would take her and sell her or kill her for the power."
Thora flew off into the sky. Not even close.
"I know that," I replied earnestly. "And I understand why it would seem so to you, Theron, but ever since I've been alive, Thora has stood by my side —" A screech interrupted me from the skies, singling out the lie that'd just come out my mouth, though Theron didn't know that. "You must understand that through all my winters, there's never not been the danger of that happening. Losing her to some danger I can't protect her from," I went on, a note of sadness tinging my voice, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I spoke at the admission of a truth I'd never acknowledged out loud before. I could see the skepticism in Theron's eyes as I spoke, but at the furrow in his brows, I knew he somehow understood. "She lives with it. As do I. It's the price both of us pay for her existence."
The sound of our footfalls in the snow filled the silence for a few seconds.
"And is that enough?"
"What?"
"Being aware? Do you think it helps? That it will hurt less?"
It wouldn't.
Never, she whispered.
I sighed, closing my eyes for a few seconds as the weightiness of her answer made something in my chest itch. "I'm most definitely sure it won't. But there's nothing else I can do about it. The only other option would be to leave her behind to protect her, and I don't think that would work in either of our favor."
You will not ever dare.
I tilted my eyes up but she was nowhere in sight, though I could still feel her near. Still, I knew that if she wanted so, we could be an entire continent apart and she'd still be right there.
Theron nodded, his expression softening. "I understand. It's just…" He shook his head, at a loss. "I don't know. I don't even know why I said anything."
The truth is Thora didn't belong to me, but she was mine. A part of me. I couldn't imagine my life without her, without the sound of her wings beating or the sharp intelligence in her black eyes.
I glanced up as I heard Thora soar back in a circle, landing on a nearby tree branch and I could feel her attention on us through the bond as she spread as her wings wide, shaking off her feathers. Apology accepted.
I smirked.
I knew that Theron was right.
There were people out there who would hurt Thora if they knew what she was — and even more who she belonged to — but at the same time, I couldn't keep her inside a cage, even if only with the goal of protecting her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. She deserved her freedom. She deserved to do what she'd been born to do. Leaving her behind would only make the two of us hurt, in the end, by being apart. Wasn't it better to be there for her and have her there for me, so we could both protect each other?
"It's okay, Theron. You know you can speak your mind with me," I told him reassuringly — or as reassuring as I thought I could be, anyway.
Theron looked at me, his expression conflicted. "I know. It's just… it's hard for me to wrap my mind around it all sometimes. Who you are, what you do, the concept of you living with this constant fear for someone you love and being so… relaxed about it."
Lucky for him, he doesn't live inside your head, otherwise he'd never say there's anything relaxed about you, Thora remarked dryly.
I could not, for the life of me, contradict her.
It was the truth.
I let out a quiet sigh, knowing that Theron was struggling to understand the weight of my burden, which I understood perfectly because I'd once also struggled. "I've lived through many winters, Theron… and time has forced me to accept a great many things." As I spoke, my voice softened and took on a wistful tone, tinged with memories that both pained and comforted me. "Some of which I regret to this day… others, I would say, not so much. But all of them live with me every day, still. Don't ever doubt that." I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.
Theron nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before turning back towards the sky as if looking for Thora. When they found me again, they looked intrigued. "How old are you?" He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how much I wanted to reveal. I wasn't ashamed of my age or of my past. The problem wasn't that. I didn't care what anyone would think of me or of the choices I'd made. I didn't care for public opinion. But there was a part of me that had already buried that past. That part of me. Everything I'd been and all I'd become. There had been a time for the past to be remembered, and it'd long been past. Time itself had been responsible for that. It'd lessened the pain and made sure I stopped longing for the memories of what had been. Even though I knew I would never forget it, I didn't want to remember it. Not all of it. Not anymore. It was partly the reason why I'd never told Theron and the others the truth, because I knew telling them would bring it all back.
It would only lead to questions and assumptions that were hard for me to explain or justify.
And worst of all, it would bring back things that'd been long buried with it.
Things that'd have repercussions on the world we lived in.
The world I'd built.
"I'm over three hundred years old," I finally answered truthfully, voice heavy and even though she remained silent, I knew Thora was listening and had a mind of her own about the matter. "Three hundred and thirty-seven, to be more exact."
Theron's eyes widened in shock and he looked at me with newfound awe. "But that's… that's almost as old as the kingdom's birth."
Give or take a few decades.
I smiled weakly at his surprise, though I didn't find particularly amusing the fact that he'd realized so quickly it dated back to the beginnings of the kingdom of Arszden. "Yes, I've lived through many changes…" I raised a brow. "And many rulers."
My lashes fell closed for a few seconds.
Many rulers.
Many of which had taken pleasure in seeing to it I was miserable.
Theron fell silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Were you born… immortal?"
I hesitated once again before answering.
The truth of who I was had been very well buried — by me, nonetheless — many centuries before. I had decided long ago I didn't want anyone to ever find out the truth of my birth and I'd worked very hard to make sure it stayed that way. I didn't want to air it out, now. Regardless, however, Theron deserved the truth — or as much of the truth as I was willing to tell him and the others. Nonetheless, some parts of my past were still too painful for me to talk about freely.
And some were even more dangerous to be spoken aloud.
"I was once human, if that's what you're asking," I began, looking into Theron's curious eyes. "But I became immortal at the age of twenty-five winters." My voice faltered slightly as memories flooded back to me, of how I'd been born and how I'd become immortal, and a scar that had long ago disappeared ached as if the arrow was being shot through me again. "I haven't aged since."
"You became immortal?"
"We're almost there," I announced, pointing towards the small opening in the land of white ahead of us. "Do you see it?"
The forest grew denser as we approached the cave entrance. The branches of trees reached out like fingers trying to pull us back or warn us away from what lay ahead. I heard Thora as she silently flew in circles above us, scouting for any potential threats nearby.
The entrance to the cave was dark and foreboding, with jagged rocks jutting out from the walls, beneath a small ridge covered in snow that'd grown icicles underneath.
Will you keep watch outside?
Thora cawed overhead, flying tight circles above the cave entrance. I will be here if you need me, she answered and it didn't escape me that she didn't say yes to my request, but made a decision for me and merely informed me of it.
I had to bend my head a little to get in, although inside the cave surprisingly could fit us both standing.
The ground was covered in a thick layer of icy snow, with icicles hanging down from the ceiling like makeshift chandeliers. The walls were rough and uneven, with faint glimmers of minerals caught in the crevices. The rocks looked damp after many seasons of cold climate and snow, giving off an eerie blue glow in the darkness. It was eerily quiet inside, save for the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls. As we ventured deeper, the faint light from outside grew dimmer until we were surrounded by complete darkness.
The air inside the cave was cool and damp, with a faint scent of earth and snow lingering in the air. As we walked, though, a subtle scent of musty decay began to mix in the air.
We were getting nearer.
Theron walked silently behind me, his eyes darting around as he surveyed our surroundings. I could feel his apprehension and waves of tension rolled off of him as he breathed much too rhythmically through his nose.
I drew my sword.
We made our way deeper into the cave —
Theron and I slowed our pace, our senses heightened and on full alert. We couldn't see anything beyond our immediate surroundings, but we both knew that the beast was nearby. Its presence was palpable in the air.
"It's close, Steel," he whispered.
I nodded.
My eyes darted over the shadows around us, tracking any movement I could see for too faint it might be. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed a shadow extending from the right, and my insides clenched just as a shiver tiptoed down my back.
The shadow moved —
"Quite bold of you to come here." A voice said from the darkness, the tone joyous and courteous, polished and polite in a way that made my skin crawl. "I wasn't aware I'd be having company tonight, but I am most honored for the esteemed presence of the Guddommelig himself. I've heard many tales about you." The voice rang out like a bell from the depths of the cave, its pleasant tone coated with honeyed words that twisted and curled, dripping with false cheer and insincerity. It was smooth and calculated, sending a chill through the air that made it hard to breathe. "Come to kill me, I presume?"
It reminded me of the sound of nails on a chalkboard, grating and unpleasant, yet masking its true intentions with a saccharine veil. It was a tone that promised danger and ominous intentions disguised behind a veneer of civility.
The hair at the nape of my neck rose. "I would say no, but I don't much enjoy lying," I answered, feeling the surge of power running through my veins, sharpening my senses into a knife.
There was a low chuckle from the darkness, and the sound echoed off the walls of the cave. "I wonder, Guddommelig, do you feel the venom of your own lies? Or does it taste sweet to you?"
Unease ate away at me.
It knows.
You knew they'd find out at some point. It was only a matter of time before they knew, Thora's words were calm and carefully chosen, as if she didn't want to distract me or, more importantly, flare my temper.
I tightened my grip on my sword. "You should know better than to believe everything you hear." I shook my head, knowing the Mörk could see me in the darkness. "Most rumors only have a spine of truth to them."
It chuckled again in response, and I realized it was coming closer, so much so that I could feel its sinister aura spreading throughout the cave like a thick fog. Tingles sprouted along my arms and hands as my instincts kicked into gear and my intuition told me just how close he was daring to come. "Ah, the truth is such a fickle thing, isn't it? It can be shaped and molded to fit any narrative, even one as selfish as the one that made you a hero."
I almost snorted.
Hero? Hero to who? To what? For what deeds?
I would more quickly be called a villain than I ever would a hero. After everything that I had done, I didn't deserve to be called a hero. Admittedly, most of what I'd done had been for the good of the kingdom and of this world, but that didn't excuse or erase the lies and the secrets I kept. In most stories, I would be considered the scoundrel that had lied and killed and cheated his way into the noble character of a savior.
I was no such thing.
My shoulders tensed. "I'm not a hero."
"No? The people would probably disagree with you. If they knew the truth, that is…" It gloated, the voice thundering through the darkness with the hidden meanings of its words smacking me in the chest like blades. "Or, in fact, maybe they would despise you for it. After all, how many lies can the frail Children of Clay accept before they turn on one such as you?"
One such as me?
I narrowed my eyes.
They would most definitely despise me.
But I'd made a choice a long time ago. A choice that'd set the course of the world to this day. I didn't regret it. I had never regretted it before. I knew, now, just as I knew then, that I'd been right to make that decision. I'd done the right thing. The past three hundred winters had made me sure of that.
So, I wouldn't regret it, now.
Still, there were days when I wondered what it would have been like if I —
I shook my head. My jaw clenched as I squared my shoulders. "They know the truth," I countered bleakly, my hands fisting tightly until my nails dug into my palms.
"Ah, but the truth they know is the one convenient to you, isn't it? One you shaped and molded to your wish. The real truth…" The Mörk laughed jokingly. "You keep to yourself, as you will for the rest of time, will you not?" The Mörk tilted its head, studying me. "But I wonder… will they ever know all you've done for them? All you've sacrificed? All you'll yet sacrifice?"
I finally heard footsteps in front of me and Theron must have, as well, because he squared his shoulders and widened his stance.
The Children of Clay would never know the truth.
I'd made sure of that.
"I made an oath many winters ago. I've merely kept it," I answered, feeling the questions Theron had about this conversation like targets on my back. "As I will for as long as I breathe."
"Then, we are no different. You speak so highly of your kind, but you twist and turn the truth until it's unrecognizable, solely so it serves your purpose. We are the same."
"No. We aren't the same."
Theron growled beside me.
I breathed in.
With a steady hand, I raised my sword, the weight of it bringing a sense of comfort and confidence to my very core, erasing the unease eating at my insides. My wards finally came alive, glowing a fluorescent blue in the darkness of the cave, humming with power and anticipation. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could make out faint markings on the blade's steel, illuminated by its own pulsing glow. A surge of electricity coursed through me, igniting all of my senses until every sound, every movement, was amplified tenfold. Even the tiniest shift of dirt on the cave floor felt like an earthquake beneath my feet.
I breathed out —
A shadow moved to my left.
The blade wasn't aimed at me, but a quick movement of my sword stopped its trajectory to Theron's chest, hitting the ground seconds after with a metallic, resounding clang.
Under the light of my wards that lit up at my command with a fluorescent blue glow, the Mörk stepped out of the shadows. It was a creature that defied description, a mass of shadows and sinew that seemed to shift and move on its own accord. Its eyes glinted in the darkness, and its grin was a flash of white teeth that seemed to glow with their own light.
It was human — in form and body.
And yet, it wasn't.
The creature was humanoid in shape — possessing the body of the human host —, but its body seemed to constantly shift and twist, almost as if it were made of moving shadows. The effect was particularly noticeable when it moved, otherwise, it'd be able to pose as a human to perfection, even to me. No signs of decay aside from the smell had started to show on the skin, since it'd taken the host recently — probably earlier today —, which helped to disguise its true nature. Its eyes were piercing and seemingly endless pools of darkness, and its grin revealed human, white teeth that glinted in the dimly lit cave in the same menacing way as fanged teeth would have.
"It's a shame I have to kill you, Guddommelig. You would be quite fun to play with." The Mörk's voice was more of a swoon, a whisper that slithered along my skin like a snake. "More so than your much less powerful companion. Him, I'd chew rather quickly."
I didn't respond, merely eyeing the beast warily.
Theron's chest rose and fell, his muscles tensing as he took a step forward. His voice was low and dangerous when he spoke. "You can try, but I'd rip your head out before you even had the chance."
The Mörk beast grinned, chuckling lowly. "Your innocence is endearing, Slayer," he mused jokingly. Taking one step forward, the beast then deviated its eyes to me, tsking and shaking its head at my sour expression. "Don't look so annoyed, Ascended. You can't all be invincible, now, can you? It would be unfair if your Melig were all formidable like you."
I didn't feel the slightest bit flattered.
I studied the Mörk with intense scrutiny, my eyes tracing his frame and there was no mistaking it.
This was no ordinary Mörk.
While all Mörk beasts were known for their cunning and intelligence, there was an air of something more about this one. It knew the truth. The past. And it was trying to get a rise out of me with it. It exuded a sense of danger and power as if it had been biding its time in the shadows for centuries, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Its eyes gleamed with wisdom beyond its years, giving off an ancient aura that sent shivers down my spine.
This was not a creature to be taken lightly.
"Why do you keep calling him that?" Theron asked.
The Mörk outright laughed. "He is the first, is he not?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
The Mörk sighed, looking crestfallen and disappointed. "It is the name he was given when he was made."
I hadn't been 'made', but I suppose the term was as close to the truth as it was possible to come.
"It means 'divine'," I explained without taking my eyes off the beast.
Theron grunted. "Yes, well…" He changed his weight impatiently. "It's not that I'm not enjoying the history lesson, but I really don't have the patience for this."
The Mörk beast's cold eyes narrowed into a baleful, menacing smile as it spoke. "What you ignorantly call history is the very foundation of the world you claim as yours, Melig," its deep voice reprimanded with a disturbingly calm tone. "I hope it doesn't end up being your ruin."
The Mörk beast's words hung heavy in the air, a foreboding warning that sent a chill down my spine.
"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, my eyes scanning the cave for any other signs of danger.
The Mörk let out a low growl, its body tensing as it circled us. "My kind have been around long before the Children of Clay came. Before their petty squabbles and wars began. Before their rulers thought this world was theirs. We have seen the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of civilizations. And yet, those foolish mortals you seem to love continue to cling onto power and greed, unbeknownst to them that much greater forces are at work here and that they are nothing if not casualties of a war much bigger than them."
Theron frowned. "What are you getting at?"
"Your world is headed towards destruction," the Mörk hissed, stopping in front of us with its piercing gaze fixed on mine. "And it will arrive by your own doing."
I felt a surge of anger rising within me. "Don't you dare lecture me about destruction," I growled, jaw tensing strongly. "I've seen it. I've lived it." My voice dropped into an angry hiss as I stepped forward, seeing how the Mörk's eyes glanced down at my advance with weariness. "This world belongs to the humans. It always has. And you've been destroying it because you think you're allowed to take it from them."
I didn't say anything more because I wasn't sure I could say anything else without revealing some of the history we were discussing moments earlier.
Laughter erupted from the beast's throat, the sound cutting and repulsing. "You're wrong, Guddommelig. The day you were born, this world was taken from the humans."
I felt the blood in my veins go cold. "That was centuries ago," I spoke through gritted teeth.
The Mörk's eyes glinted off the glow of my wards. "And the day you refused to rule, it became ours."
I faltered back a step —
"None of that matters!" Theron yelled, stepping forward with his sword raised and ready to strike. His face twisted in anger and I knew if he had the chance, he would be putting his blade through the beast's chest. "The Mörk have ravaged this world with their twisted ways, causing as much devastation as they could," Theron objected tersely. "You're the monsters."
The beast let out a deep chuckle, its eyes glittering with amusement. "You truly know nothing, do you?"
Theron stepped forward threateningly. "Enough riddles!" He screamed, slashing his blade in front of him like he would have preferred that it was slitting across the beast's neck. "Just tell us what you know!"
The Mörk's expression twisted into one of pure malevolence, its obsidian eyes gleaming with an ominous and unyielding intensity as the darkness seemed to pool around it and then extend like fog around him. "A great darkness looms on the horizon," it growled in a voice that sent shivers down my spine. Its lips curled into a cruel sneer. "And when it arrives, it will reveal all your hidden secrets, Guddommelig, leaving you completely defenseless. Our king is rising, and he will not rest until you are destroyed."
My heart pounded violently against my ribcage as fear and determination waged war within me. "I am not afraid of him," I declared through gritted teeth. "I defeated him once before, and I will do it again."
"He was born to reign."
"And I was raised to kill." My words dripped with venomous resolve.
With a menacing stride, the Mörk closed in on me until we were nose to nose. Our eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills, his blazing with an unwavering confidence. "And yet, you will never prevail," he hissed, his voice laced with malice. "Our king is coming for you, Steel Kairo, and he will consume you without mercy."
As the Mörk spoke, I felt a surge of power welling up within me. Lightning flickered to life around my hands as I tapped into the ancient power that coursed through my veins.
I raised my sword, ready to strike —
The Mörk was faster.
It darted forward, and its claws raked across my chest, tearing through flesh and fabric alike. I grunted, but I didn't falter. With a roar, I swung my sword, and I heard the metal slice through the Mörk's claws in a shower of sparks as I swatted away its hand. Immediately, the Mörk recoiled, a mixture of surprise and fury flickering across its twisted face. The shadows seemed to drip liquid into the floor, now, engulfing his body completely. The mass of swirling darkness oozed and flowed over the Mörk's body like thick, black tar. It seemed almost alive, constantly shifting and writhing, as if trying to consume the beast, although I knew very well that wasn't the case. Instead, the darkness dripped from its skin, leaving a slimy trail behind and all around it.
Ichor was dripping from my chest, staining the ground beneath me, but I ignored the pain.
I felt Thora's unease and worry like a stone on my chest, but I pushed the stifling weight of the bond to the side for a few seconds, putting my focus solely on the creature before me.
Theron lunged forward, his sword brandished high, aiming for the beast's exposed throat. But the Mörk was agile, a blur of darkness as it sidestepped and countered with a powerful swipe of shadow-born talons that robbed a strangled gasp from Theron. Theron stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow as the talons made a second sweep at his entrails.
I gritted my teeth in irritation.
The Mörk's attacks were swift and calculated.
As the beast lunged at me again, I pivoted to the side, my sword slashing across its arm as I let my instincts take over. The impact sent tremors through my body, but I didn't let up. I followed through with a swift kick to its midsection, sending it sprawling backward.
But it didn't stay down for long.
It rose to its feet with an eerie grace, sál oozing from its wounds. It smelled oddly of ash and dead flesh, but it was also acid somehow. The substance dripped steadily through its clothes, pooling on the ground beneath it. There was a primal rage burning in its eyes — a thirst for vengeance that matched my own determination.
We circled each other warily, locked in a deadly dance of predator and prey. Each move was calculated, each strike aimed for the other's demise. The cave reverberated with our grunts and growls — a symphony of violence.
"You underestimate me," I spat, my voice filled with righteous fury. "I will not be consumed by your king or anyone else."
Theron moved to stand beside me, his eyes burning with determination. "We will fight you and your king," he declared, his voice steady and unwavering. "We will defend this world against any threat, no matter how powerful."
The Mörk beast snarled, its eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and incredulity. "You are nothing but insignificant insects. The power of our king is beyond your comprehension."
I tightened my grip on my sword, channeling all my strength into a single swing. The blade sliced through the air with a resounding swish as it slashed across the Mörk's chest. A burst of black sál erupted from the wound, causing the beast to stagger back in agony and fall to its knees.
"He may be powerful," I said calmly, meeting the Mörk's gaze without flinching. "But I've waited three hundred winters to kill him. And I will."
With his sword raised high and moving quickly, Theron approached the beast —
With lightning quickness, the Mörk rose and Theron's scream as he stumbled back was the only thing I heard before I smelled blood in the cold air. As he fell, the beast's talons retreated as the shadows around its frame subdued. I could hear his heart racing in his chest and his grimaces of pain as he tried to get up and keep fighting.
Stubborn idiot.
Almost instantly, I could tell the wound wouldn't be fatal, but it would hurt like hell for a while. Melig were immune to all human diseases, but not to beasts. While they weren't utterly vulnerable, a beast was the only thing that could kill them and seriously injure them.
The same went for me, most basically.
Time to die, beast.
A surge of raw power coursed through my veins, setting my heart ablaze with a fiery determination. It was as if the weight of history and the collective strength of all those who had fought before us had been channeled into my very being, bolstering my fury and heightening my powers. Electric currents crackled and danced beneath my skin, igniting every nerve with a surge of pleasure and energy. It felt like a coiled serpent within me, thrashing and writhing against its fleshy prison, eagerly waiting to be unleashed.
And then, I let it go.
The coiled energy within me erupted with an intensity that blinded my senses. An explosion of raw power, resembling a writhing serpent, burst forth and lit up the darkness around us. The air crackled with electricity as it shot out into the abyss ahead. With all my might, I directed the lightning towards the looming Mörk beast. It let out a bone-chilling howl of agony as the bolt of energy surged through its massive body, filling the cave with blinding light and dissolving the shadows dancing around its frame completely, leaving only his human host's body before us.
Its screams echoed in the solitary cave.
I found myself smiling.
The Mörk let out a guttural scream as it crumpled to the ground on its knees. Its once menacing form was now reduced to nearly nothing. As I approached, the last remnants of its existence seemed to whisper a final warning through its charred lips, its black eyes losing focus. "What no evil has ever bent…" It sucked in one last gulping breath. "A single daisy will break."
Then, with one final gasp, it disintegrated into a cloud of black ash.
Time stopped —
How?
I stood there, frozen in disbelief, as the ashen remains of the Mörk dispersed into the air. The final words that escaped its lips echoed in my mind, intensifying the weight of the battle we had just won. I knew what he'd meant by those words, what he'd referred to, and I was now faced with a revelation that shook me to my core.
The beasts — their king — knew.
I warned you, didn't I? Thora reminded me, voice cheerless and devoid of her usual snark.
I felt a chill run down my spine as Thora's words echoed in my mind. She had warned me that they'd use this against me a long time ago, but I had dismissed her warning at the time, thinking the likelihood of a secret like that getting to beasts' ears was minimal, but clearly, I'd been wrong. Please, Thora, I pleaded, voice raggedly gruff. I'm not in the mood for 'I told you so'."
I didn't use those words.
Don't blame me for reading between the lines.
The sound she made resembled a chaffed sigh. You knew this was coming, her voice was smooth and quiet, now, as she said words we both knew were true.
I didn't answer.
It physically hurt me to even think it, but I had hoped this never happened. I'd been warned, many winters ago, that this would eventually come to pass, but I'd let time rob that certainty from me and, in its place, a traitorous bud of hope bloomed, strong enough to make me forget all the warnings I'd gotten.
I'd never admit it, but this was the truth.
Hope is a dangerous thing, Thora reminded me gently, clearly having caught the thoughts swirling inside me even though I hadn't voiced them.
It's written it will be my ruin, I sighed.
It was her turn not to answer, though I knew she'd listened, deciding to keep quiet instead of commenting.
I tipped my eyes as I heard a grunt.
Theron was breathing hard on the ground, his chest bleeding profusely. "How come I'm always the one who gets slashed into half when we hunt?" He coughed, his voice filled with sarcasm and pain.
I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts. "You'll live," I said, letting the numbness in my voice masquerade my utter shock and fear.
Theron's brows furrowed. "That's reassuring."
They know.
As long as they only know about her and don't know her, she will be safe. And when you find her and they learn who she is, you'll be there to protect her, she tried to comfort me, voice soft and peaceful, but I could tell there was a note of concern in her emotions.
She knew, as well as I did, that this wasn't a threat.
It was a warning.
A promise.
How could they know? How had they found out? And if they knew, that posed the question of what they would do with that knowledge. Would they find her? Try to kill her? Use her? Why hadn't they done anything yet? What were they waiting for?
"Why in the hell didn't you do that earlier?"
I frowned. "What?"
"The lightning."
I shrugged. "You know I don't like to use it."
"Yes, I can see," he mused tastefully. "I can also see you're not the one who got nearly put to death by that beast."
I sighed, rolling my eyes at the observation he was probably never going to let me forget for as long as I lived. "You were never in any real danger, Theron. You've always known if it ever came to the point of using thunder in order to save one of you, I would." I lifted a brow as I knelt by his side. "In fact, I think I've just proven exactly that."
He snorted, settling back as he lowered his head on the ground and took in deep breaths with his eyes closed. "Steel…" He rasped, his voice filled with concern and pain. "What the hell did it mean?"
I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts. "I don't know," I lied. "I have no idea."
Seemed like lying was a skill I never really grew out of.
You've only become better at it.
I ignored her judgmental jab.
Theron's brows furrowed in deep contemplation. "I don't think it was meant as a threat."
"It wasn't." I shook my head. "It was a warning."
"About what?"
I ran a hand across my face, feeling the urge to put my fist through something but knowing it was useless and senseless. "What's to come."
"Oh, great, because we didn't have enough shit to worry about as it is, did we?" Theron mumbled.
I leaned in, seeing that he was still bleeding quite heavily. He was applying pressure to the wound, but blood seeped through his fingers. He was breathing hard and it was clear he was in pain, but he was alive. And he would live. As soon as we got to Kozun, he'd be able to help and he'd probably be as good as new in a few days.
"I was expecting worse, to be honest," I commented lightly as I helped him get to his feet. "The Mörk didn't even try to run."
"Says the guy not standing with a gaping hole in his chest."
He didn't have a gaping hole in his chest.
I grinned. "Don't be dramatic."
Theron scoffed. "Do you know why it didn't try to run? Because it wanted to kill us." He snorted, grimacing when i helped him come upright and his wound stretched. He took a gulping breath, before hissing and I laced an arm around his shoulders to support him. "Well, it wanted to kill me, at least. I think it preferred to just mess with your head."
That much was definitely true.
Whatever plan this Mörk had, it hadn't been to actually kill either of us. It had wanted to get a rise out of me, to tell me they knew my secret — my past and my future — and that they'd be waiting for the moment to use it.
That much had been clear.
"So, what do we do now?" He asked.
I shrugged, helping him start to walk. "Now, we get back to the others and report to the King."
Theron nodded. "I want to say he'll be happy with our news, but I don't think there's much in this world that makes that man happy."
King Evren had had one of the hardest reigns of the rulers of his kingdom so far, and even though we'd had our fair share of problems in the past, I knew he was doing the best he could. Despite his many flaws, he was a good king and he had been doing the best he could for his people and his land, but there was only so much he could do to protect his realm from the beasts that plagued it.
It was expected that he'd be quite grim about it.
"He'll be glad the Mörk has been dealt with."
"Again, says the man who did not get stabbed with said Mörk's talons," Theron grumbled.
"Quit whining, Theron. You chose to come."
He mumbled some obscenity under his breath in response.
I held my laughter as I half-dragged him through the cave's walls and a few seconds later, as we were coming out of the cave, Thora's caw sounded in the sky and by the sound of her voice, it sounded like she was mentally rolling her eyes. It's tiresome how you humans can be so overly dramatic.
"Don't be rude," I playfully scolded her, causing Theron's head to snap towards me in shock, to which I only shrugged. Lifting my eyes to see her spiraling down towards us, I smiled openly at her. "Go ahead to meet the others, Thora. Warn them that we're coming. Theron is hurt."
She took flight and headed north immediately.
"If I pass out, will you carry me?" Theron questioned jokingly, but I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
I tilted my head up, blinking at the twinkling darkness. "The stars are lovely tonight."
"You didn't answer my question."
The corner of my lips tilted up. "I don't want to lie to you."
"So, if I did pass out, you'd just leave me out here in the snow?"
I wanted to laugh, but didn't think he'd enjoy the mockery. "You'd probably be better off concentrating on walking, Theron," I quipped, smirking when I heard him snort. Even though his feet were, in fact, still moving, he was not actually walking because I was lugging most of his weight for him. "Because you haven't even passed out yet and I'm already carrying you."
His breath caught in his throat, a sharp intake of air laced with both the sting of physical pain and the simmering anger within. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "It's moments like these that make me question why I put up with you."
I wondered that myself.
As do I, Thora quipped.
I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of fresh snow in the cold air. "It's as much a mystery to you as it is to me."
He drew his brows together. "You know what?" He glared at me. "Maybe we should just walk the rest of the way in silence."
I laughed out loud, this time.
We did walk through the snow in silence the rest of the way.
I could feel that Theron wanted to speak to me about what the Mörk had said, most likely wondering what it'd meant by those words, but I couldn't force myself to speak of it yet. It worried me that the beasts knew as much as I did about my future. About what lay ahead. And it concerned me even more what they would do with what they knew. Because if they'd found a way to purposefully let me know they knew, it's because they had a plan.
It had to be.
And not knowing what that plan was… irked me.
But deep down, I acknowledged the truth that, ultimately, it wasn't what the Mörk had said or the repercussions of it knowing the truth that truly troubled me.
It was the idea that the future I had waited so long for was finally approaching.
That she was coming.
My doom. My curse. My love.
My end.
And with her arrival, my ultimate demise loomed ever closer.