Prologue Balthazar #4
Horrified, I dropped to my knees. My arms shook as I gathered my daughter’s lifeless body to my chest. A guttural sound tore from my throat, raw and primal.
Hot tears streamed down my face, mingling with the soot and sweat, as rage surged through me, thick and molten, flooding my veins until I burned with it.
“My Tove…” I whispered into her hair, her warmth already fading. I laid her gently behind me, out of the monster’s sight, shielding her from his cruel gaze. With trembling fingers, I brushed her eyelids closed. “May Folkvangr welcome you into her arms.”
Then I rose, fury a storm within me.
I turned to face him—the self-proclaimed Timehunter, the murderer standing amidst the ruin of my life.
“I’ve heard the tales,” I snarled. “Of your deeds—cruel, vile, depraved. You wear them like armor. You slaughter the innocent like vermin, possessed by some twisted force that whispers death into your ears. I’ve watched you butcher soldiers as if they were ants beneath your boot.”
Chronosbane sneered. “And I’ve watched you, Balthazar. You and your precious wife—monsters in human skin. Feeding on the souls of innocents to prolong your corrupted lives.”
His lips curled, baring dagger-like teeth that gleamed in the firelight. “We are your reckoning. We are the Timehunters. And your children? They are Timebounds. That makes them our prey.”
He raised a gleaming blade above his head, poised to strike.
But I was faster.
With a roar, I drove my dagger into his gut, burying it to the hilt. I twisted hard.
He gasped, mouth falling open in shock. Blood spilled from his lips as his insides poured from the ragged wound. He fell to his knees, eyes wide with disbelief, and four of my daughters’ necklaces slipped from his grasp, clattering to the earth like a death knell.
“No!” I choked, diving forward to scoop the necklaces into my hands.
I turned and tore into the burning wreckage, clutching them against my chest like a prayer—like a promise I still hoped I could keep.
Inside, smoke filled my lungs and stung my eyes. I stumbled over fallen timber and the smoldering remains of our home—our life. Flames licked at the walls. Ash drifted like snowfall through the ruined space. And then I saw them.
In the far corner, curled together as if in sleep, lay the charred remains of three of my daughters.
“My children!” I screamed, the sound wretched, ripped straight from the core of my soul. “No! No—please!”
I fell to my knees, the heat blistering my skin as I crouched before them. With shaking hands, I matched each necklace to its rightful owner.
“This one is Tove’s,” I whispered. “I’ll return it to her when I’m back at her side. This is Revna’s… Astrid… Meya…”
I placed the necklaces gently upon their blackened chests, my lips moving in trembling murmurs, whispering prayers to Folkvangr—May the goddess receive you, may she cradle you in peace—as I closed their eyes with shaking thumbs.
Then I shot to my feet, lungs scorching with smoke and anguish.
“Freya!” I roared. “Where are you? Papa’s here! You can come out now—Papa’s here to protect you!”
Tears streamed down my face, blinding me as I searched the shadows, kicking aside debris and calling her name again and again.
But she was nowhere to be found.
By the mighty thunder of Thor’s hammer… she was only three. So small. So innocent. Where could she be?
Behind me, Zara stumbled through the doorway, her face streaked with soot and tears. Her eyes locked onto the destruction, onto the bodies.
“Where is Freya?” I yelled, my voice ragged. I pointed an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault! You never listen! You should have stayed home!”
She froze.
Her body trembled as her hands rose to cover her mouth—but no sound came—just the shudder of her breath and the horror in her eyes.
Then, her arms lowered.
And something darker settled over her face.
“How can you say that, Balthazar?” Zara’s voice faltered, shaking beneath the burden of her grief. “How can you blame me when I begged you to leave with me? To find out who we are? But you—so damn stubborn—refused to listen!”
Her words spilled out like a storm.
“And now… you blame me that my children are dead?” Her voice trembled. “I love you. Gods, I love you. I only wanted one night. One last night with you. To persuade you to stay with us. And for that, for that, my babies are dead. And you stand there, pointing fingers like I lit the match myself.”
Tears poured down her cheeks as her cries echoed into the star-filled sky.
Then, between sobs, she gasped, “We need to find Freya. She might still be alive!”
I stared at her, jaw clenched, voice like stone. “I’ll search for her. You lay the others to rest. Our children would still be alive if you had stayed home.”
Zara flinched as though I’d struck her. “I left because I love you! Because I needed to see you. Because we don’t know who we are, and we can’t keep living this lie!”
I snapped.
“We’re monsters, Zara!” I roared, the fury in my chest boiling over. “We’ve been pretending to be civilized, to be human. But at our core? We’re despicable.
Her face crumpled, devastated.
And yet, I couldn’t stop.
“We lost them because of you!”
She screamed through tears, “Freya is all I have left!”
Without thinking, I shoved past her, knocking her to the ground. I didn’t look back.
Snow howled around me as I trudged through the storm, my vision blurred by tears. I called out her name—again and again—my voice raw with desperation.
Then I saw it.
A small pink shoe, barely visible, jutting from beneath a drift of snow.
My stomach twisted into a knot. A thin stream of blood trailed from it, like a scar on the earth.
Panic clawed at my throat as I fell to my knees, tearing through the snow with frantic hands. “Freya!” I cried, my breath ragged, my heart a hammer.
I followed the blood trail and heard a thunderclap in my ears with every step. My face was wet—not just from the snow, but from tears I no longer remembered crying.
She was out here somewhere. She had to be.
And I refused to stop searching.
Because if I lost her too, I would have nothing left but darkness.
Up ahead, a Timehunter emerged through the curtain of snow, his silhouette wraithlike against the pale light of winter’s dawn. His eyes seared with feral intent as he lunged, blade flashing like ice-caught fire.
Steel met steel with a vicious clang, the ring of metal echoing through the blizzard. I parried his strikes, each blow vibrating through my bones, each dodge driven by adrenaline and animal instinct. My muscles strained, and my breath came in puffs of smoke.
Then I saw an opening.
I drove my dagger into his chest. A wet gasp tore from his throat. His eyes went wide, shocked, uncomprehending, before his body crumpled into the snow, lifeless.
Blood and sweat hung thick in the frozen air as I stood over him, victorious.
Yet hollow.
Haunted.
Fueled by fury, I cut down every bloody Timehunter I encountered—executing them with surgical rage. No hesitation. No mercy. Then I leaped onto my horse and charged into the village like a storm unbound.
My children had been slaughtered. My home burned. My legacy was violated.
Someone had betrayed me.
Was it one of my warriors, bitter and envious of my power? One of their wives, jealous and resentful of Zara? Or perhaps the villagers—starving, desperate, and willing to sell me out for coin or safety?
My rage was blinding. Consuming.
And it demanded blood.
I let my fury lead the way. I stormed into the homes of my people and unleashed carnage upon them. One by one, I cut them down. Screams filled the air. Begging. Crying. None of it mattered.
There would be no raid tomorrow. No alliance. No glory.
Only bodies.
Only vengeance.
The village was a graveyard soaked in blood by the time the sun rose. I rode home spattered in crimson, the cold wind lashing at my face, my heart numb with fury and grief.
But what I saw as I approached the smoldering remains of our home nearly shattered me again.
Zara stood in the clearing beside a man I had never seen before.
He radiated power—raw and magnetic. It rolled off him like thunderclouds, ready to break. Tall, striking, imperious. He looked down at Zara with familiarity, and she didn’t move away.
Rage surged anew.
I leaped from my horse, blood still dripping from my armor, and stormed toward him.
Without warning, I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him away from her. “Get the fuck away from my wife!” I snarled, my voice like gravel and fire. “Leave now—or die where you stand!”
The man stumbled back but caught himself, eyes steady, unshaken.
“Balthazar, wait!” Zara cried, her voice breaking. “He’s here to help!”
I whirled to face her, rage still pulsing like a war drum in my ears. My children were dead—our children—and all I could see was her. The one who left. The one who wasn’t there when they needed her most.
“We do not require his help,” I spat, the words venomous. “It’s far too late. My daughters lie cold and lifeless. Their eyes will never open again.”
Pain tore through me like a jagged blade, spilling the blood of my soul onto the ground between us.
“And now this man appears—now—after the slaughter, after the screams, after the fire? Where was he before they were ripped from our arms?”
My gaze snapped back to the stranger. Fury twisted every muscle in my body as I stepped toward him.
“Or perhaps you’re the one who summoned the death-mongers. How convenient that you arrive from nowhere and claim to fix what’s already been destroyed.”
Zara stepped between us. “Balthazar, stop. How can you accuse a man who came to help us of such evil? He had nothing to do with the deaths of our children—he only wishes to aid us.”
I turned on her, my voice low but scorching. “You’re right, Zara. This is your fault.”
Her face crumpled.
“I loathe you. I despise you. I am disgusted by you.” My voice broke, but I didn’t stop. “I no longer want you in my life.”