Chapter Fifty-One
There was a reason I lingered in the Kingdom of Darkness all those years. Yes, part of it was to keep watch over Mal Blackburn, to ensure the pieces fell where they must. But long before her shadow ever touched that land…
I was there for him.
I was there to watch over my son.
Tabitha Wysteria
Freya tightened the satchels on her horse in silence, though her blue eyes kept stealing glances at Ylva.
The younger valkyrian had not uttered a word since their battle with the witches.
No accusations had been thrown, no questions asked about the power Freya had unleashed, no desperate pleas to turn back.
Yet, somehow, her silence screamed louder than any fury.
‘You can’t stay silent forever,’ Freya mumbled, plucking a handful of carrots to feed her horse as they camped in the quiet of a distant forest, far removed from blood and fire. She would take Ylva back to the valkyrian lands, and then…
Well, she no longer knew what she would do.
‘Watch me,’ Ylva retorted, striding past her, her face carved with annoyance, every step edged in defiance.
Freya’s patience frayed. She reached out, catching Ylva’s arm, halting her retreat. ‘We did what had to be done.’
Ylva’s blue eyes flared like tempered steel. ‘So this is what it means to be valkyrian? To flee?’
‘Being valkyrian isn’t only about fighting,’ Freya countered, voice taut. ‘It is about wisdom, knowing when to retreat so you may live to protect more lives another day. We were two against many. We had to put distance between us and them.’
‘I disagree,’ Ylva snapped. ‘It was cowardice.’
‘I—’
‘Why can you…?’ Ylva faltered, struggling to put her thoughts to words. ‘Can all valkyrians wield such power as you did?’
‘No. They cannot.’
Ylva’s jaw tightened as her stare lingered on Freya, calculating. ‘You are not wholly valkyrian, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Alma knows, doesn’t she? She knows what you are.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then tell me, what are you?’ Ylva’s voice was sharp as her eyes met Freya’s, their shared hue blazing with the same unyielding defiance.
Freya said nothing.
Ylva tore her arm free and turned her back, her braid snapping against her shoulder as she strode to her white horse. ‘Why won’t you tell me?’
‘What difference would it make?’ Freya asked, her voice low, almost weary.
Ylva opened her mouth to reply, but both women froze, their heads snapping towards the sound of distant voices.
Freya’s hand went instinctively to her sword, unsheathing it with a whisper of steel just as green smoke coiled into being a few feet ahead, thick and unnatural, stinking faintly of scorched iron and decay.
From the emerald fire, Vera emerged. Her purple eyes glimmered with a predatory cruelty, her lips curving into a smile that was all mockery and amusement.
Yet Freya knew instantly that something was wrong.
This was not merely Vera as she remembered her.
The sharp, regal angles of her face were warped by something darker, her very aura steeped in a power Freya had not felt for an age, a power that gnawed at the edges of the air like acid.
‘Well, well,’ Vera drawled, her voice dripping honeyed venom. ‘I thought I smelt something rotten.’
Freya raised her sword higher, every muscle braced. Around them, more witches and warlocks slithered into existence, stepping from the swirling smoke like phantoms. Beside her, Ylva drew an arrow to her bowstring, the tip trained on Vera’s heart with steady precision.
‘I always wondered what had become of you,’ Vera mused, her smile never faltering.
Freya’s brows furrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You don’t recognise me?’
‘Vera…’
Vera clucked her tongue, wagging a finger with theatrical disappointment. ‘Try again.’
Freya’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on the hilt until her knuckles blanched. She shifted closer to Ylva, ready to shield her if necessary.
‘You married into my realm,’ Vera purred, her smile stretching unnaturally wide. ‘How are your children faring?’
Freya’s teeth clenched like a sprung trap. ‘Eris.’
‘Ah!’ Vera laughed, a high, cold sound. ‘You guessed! Congratulations. It’s been so very long, hasn’t it? Last time I saw you, Hades was dragging you by the throat out of his gates for what you did.’
From the corner of her eye, Freya saw Ylva stiffen, her bowstring trembling ever so slightly.
‘Oh, forgive me. Was that meant to be a secret?’ Vera gasped, feigning shock as her fingers brushed delicately over her mouth in mock apology.
‘Well, I suppose it isn’t anymore, is it?
Remind me again, why was it that Hades cast you out?
Ah, yes… you meddled in that little problem of Hecate’s.
’ Her eyes gleamed with poisonous amusement.
‘Didn’t work out in the end, did it? She should have confided in me. We both wanted that little bitch gone.’
‘Why are you here?’ Freya’s voice was ice, her sword arm steady.
‘Because,’ Vera purred, her smile twisting, ‘I’m doing a bit of… cleaning.’
Her gaze slid to Ylva, tilting her head with predatory interest. Freya stepped sharply in front of the younger valkyrian, blocking the line of sight. That only made Vera’s grin widen.
‘You can shroud her all you like,’ Vera said, circling with feline grace. ‘Dress her in valkyrian leathers and braid her hair like yours. But I can smell the doggy scent all over her.’ She raised a hand, beckoning lazily. ‘Come here, doggy.’
‘No.’ Freya’s voice was a blade, her teeth clenched tight.
‘Oh?’ Vera chuckled darkly. ‘How protective you are over this one little pup. I wonder why.’
‘I need her.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘That is none of your concern.’
‘Mm.’ Vera’s laughter rippled like silk dragged over steel. ‘You were far more entertaining when you ruled the Underworld. Tell you what, hand her over, and I’ll put in a sweet word with Hades. Perhaps he’ll even forgive you.’
Freya ignored the heat of Ylva’s stare, burning between her shoulder blades like fire through frost. She only tightened her grip upon the sword, raising its tip until it aligned with Vera’s heart.
‘I will not let you harm her,’ Freya said, each word sharpened like the edge of her blade.
If Vera killed Ylva now, everything would unravel. Freya’s bargaining chip for Kage would be ashes, her leverage lost. She needed the girl alive, untouched, perfect for the trap she was weaving.
‘Fine,’ Vera said at last, her smile glacial. ‘Have it your way.’
Before Freya could so much as draw breath, Vera unleashed a torrent of magic that seared through the air.
Freya barely raised her blade in time, steel clashing with the unnatural force, sparks scattering like fireflies.
She spun sharply, shoving Ylva back with a force born of desperation. ‘On the horse, run!’
‘No!’
‘For once in your life, do as you are told!’ Freya snarled, pushing the younger valkyrian towards safety.
But there was no time, no chance to ensure her escape; another surge of witchfire struck, splintering a tree to their right, the explosion scattering shards of bark like shrapnel. Freya wheeled on her heel and lunged.
She struck with all the ferocity of her kind—blade flashing, movements honed by centuries of war. Yet Vera only laughed, a dark, musical sound, and danced aside, each deadly arc of steel treated as if it were a child’s game.
Then Vera’s hands rose, fingers curling into something cruel, and Freya felt the sickly pull of blood magic.
Her body locked mid-strike, limbs stiffening against her will, her fingers twisting into grotesque angles.
Pain roared up her spine, forcing a scream past clenched teeth as her knees buckled and she crashed to the ground.
‘We may wear the mantle of goddesses,’ Vera purred, gliding closer, ‘but we are trapped in flesh. Soft, fragile, and so very easy to break.’
Freya’s eyes flared with fury as Ylva was dragged and thrown at her side like a discarded doll.
Vera stooped, plucking Freya’s sword from the snow, and with a serpentine grace, pressed its tip to Ylva’s throat. A single bead of crimson welled, sliding down the girl’s pale neck like a ruby teardrop.
‘Don’t,’ Freya rasped, her voice torn, fighting the invasive magic clawing through her veins, summoning what fragments of her godhood she could still grasp.
Vera’s laughter curled through the clearing, sweet and venomous, and then she lifted the blade, poised to strike, ready to spill valkyrian blood into the snow.
Something struck Vera hard enough to wrench the sword from her grasp and shatter her concentration, the tether of blood magic snapping like a frayed cord.
In an instant, Freya surged to her feet, seizing her blade mid-air with a speed born of fury, while Ylva snatched up her bow and arrow with lethal precision.
A dark shape cut through the air, wings slicing the silence before perching on a nearby branch. It cawed. A sharp, uncanny sound that curled like smoke in Freya’s chest.
Her eyes widened.
She knew that bird.
It was no ordinary crow.
No.
This was Spirox, a shadow-crow, and its master was never far behind.
From the depths of the forest emerged Kage Blackburn, danger clinging to him like a second skin.
His dark hair fell rakishly across eyes black as midnight, his gaze briefly meeting Freya’s and Ylva’s before he ducked low, a streak of magic hissing over his head.
In one smooth motion, he rose, dagger flashing as he lunged at his attacker.
A host of Fae burst from the treeline behind him, their presence pulling the battle into full chaos. Freya didn’t hesitate. She pushed Ylva towards the horses.
‘We need to help!’ Ylva protested, voice sharp with rage.
‘Not now,’ Freya barked.
‘I don’t trust you!’ Ylva’s scream cut through the din, her eyes blazing with betrayal. ‘You lied to me about everything!’
The venom in her stare silenced Freya; words clawed at her throat but refused to leave. Before she could speak, Vera’s laughter sliced through the fray, a chilling sound. The witch darted from the fight, vanishing into the trees.
‘No!’ Freya shouted, but Ylva was already gone, shoving past her in pursuit of the fleeing witch.
Freya bolted after them, muscles burning as she sprinted. She could not, would not, let Vera spill Ylva’s blood.
Ahead, the young valkyrian charged on, blind to Freya’s cries, while Vera, reveling in the chase, laughed and ran without using magic to flee. She wanted to be hunted. She wanted this.
Ylva paused only long enough to loose an arrow, its whistle sharp and true.
The shaft buried itself deep in Vera’s leg, sending the witch sprawling into the snow.
Instead of cursing, Vera laughed. A low, amused sound that seemed utterly wrong in the stillness of the forest. Slowly, languidly, she rolled onto her back, brushing a white strand of hair from her face with a feline grace.
She raised her hands in mock surrender, a smirk curling her lips. ‘Oh, you caught me.’
‘Ylva, get away from her!’ Freya’s cry cut through the air like a blade, but the younger valkyrian was already advancing, bow drawn, another arrow notched and ready.
The moment splintered as Kage Blackburn surged into view, his presence a storm wrapped in shadow.
He struck with brutal precision, his fist slamming down where Vera’s head had been, the ground trembling from the force.
She twisted just in time, but the evasion cost her; his hand closed like an iron collar around her throat, lifting her from the snow.
Vera clawed at his arm, gasping as her feet dangled.
Kage said nothing, his expression carved from obsidian, save for the faint twitch in his eye. His voice, when it came, was soft and lethal. ‘What happened to the real Vera?’
‘She’s dead.’
‘Don’t lie to me.’ His words dripped venom.
Vera’s eyes rolled in theatrical irritation. ‘She’s as good as dead, Kage Blackburn.’ His grip tightened, choking the last syllable into silence, her eyes bulging before, unbelievably, she laughed, a broken, rasping sound. ‘If you kill me… you kill… her…’
‘Do it,’ Freya snarled, her voice raw with fury. ‘Kill her.’
Kage hesitated, his head tilting slightly as though weighing her words. Then his jaw clenched, displeasure flashing across his features, and to Freya’s seething frustration, he released the witch. Vera crumpled into the snow, coughing, yet still smiling.
‘Fine. I will.’ Freya lunged, sword raised high, every muscle primed to end the abomination with a single strike. But Kage moved faster, shoving her aside, dark eyes blazing with fierce resolve.
Vera’s grin spread wider, full of mocking delight, even as her hands flared with viridian fire. The blast hit like a tempest, flinging them backwards. Kage and Ylva collapsed where they landed, unconscious, their weapons scattered in the snow.
Freya alone remained standing, sword trembling in her grasp as she faced the witch.
Vera dusted off her clothes with leisurely grace, then stared at the fallen bodies. ‘I know you had plans for them…’ Her smile sharpened into cruelty. ‘So, let’s call it even, shall we?’
And with a final chuckle that curled like smoke, she vanished in a flash of green fire, leaving only the hiss of dissipating magic in her wake.