Chapter Sixteen
I think no one truly understands the cruelty of the gods until it is too late.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘We’re not far from the wolverian castle,’ Elric announced, crouching to examine the snow beneath their boots.
Ylva reached for her winged horse, patting its neck as she checked the blanket draped over its back, tugging it tighter in a futile attempt to keep the cold at bay.
It wouldn’t be enough. They were deep within wolverian lands now, where the chill bit mercilessly, especially after nightfall.
She drew her cloak closer around her shoulders, doing her best to ignore the dull ache settling deep into her bones.
Then hands slid over her arms.
Up and down.
Up and down.
She stiffened as realisation struck that Arden had slipped up behind her, close enough that his warmth brushed her back as he worked her arms, rubbing life back into limbs numbed by the cold.
‘Stop it,’ she growled.
‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he replied, that infuriating smirk, one she was beginning to both loathe and crave, curling his lips.
The moment he stepped away, she muttered, ‘You’re cold too.’
‘Is that an invitation to warm me up, little wolf?’ Arden tilted his head, his grin widening as his green eyes gleamed with familiar mischief. Ylva shoved past him, muttering a string of curses under her breath.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ he said cheerfully.
‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘I’m always ridiculous,’ Arden replied, already falling into step behind her as Elric pressed onward.
Nymeria glanced back sharply, eyes narrowed in warning for them to hurry, and more importantly, to be quiet, lest they alert the forest to their presence.
Arden lifted his hands in an exaggerated show of apology.
Ylva rolled her eyes.
They all knew Arden was physically incapable of silence for longer than two minutes.
The depth of the snow made every step heavier, yet Ylva moved through it with practised ease.
The sight of the Fae struggling behind her almost drew a smile to her lips.
Her valkyrian training served her well in the bitter terrain.
But the moment the thought fully formed, she faltered.
What sense did it make when the Fae at her back were Black Lotus?
She slowed, the smile fading. Perhaps it was something else that allowed her to move so freely across the snow.
‘What’s wrong?’ Arden asked at once, noticing her hesitation.
‘Nothing…’ She wanted to ask what weighed on her mind, but the runes shimmered across her skin and her throat tightened, sealing the question away.
Instinctively, she forced her thoughts elsewhere and quickened her pace, her winged horse keeping close.
‘If the king is dead,’ she asked instead, ‘what becomes of the Black Lotus?’
Arden’s expression tightened not with worry, but with uncertainty. As though he did not know the answer…or perhaps did not wish to.
‘Rio Hawthorne claims she will dismantle the Black Lotus,’ Arden said at last. ‘But…’
‘But?’ Ylva prompted.
Arden shrugged, a hollow motion. ‘What becomes of us then? It’s all we’ve ever been.’
‘You could become something else.’ She frowned at the snort he gave. ‘What’s so terrible about that?’
‘I don’t want to be Black Lotus, but…’ His green eyes dimmed, sadness softening their usual mischief. ‘The truth is, I don’t think any of us know how to be anything else.’
‘You just need time.’
Arden scoffed gently. ‘Do I, little wolf?’
Ylva nodded. ‘I am valkyrian. I may not be allowed to question who I was before, but I had a life. That’s what it means to be valkyrian. We come from something else, and we become something new. You could do the same.’
‘Maybe I don’t want to.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t want to be Black Lotus.’
‘And I don’t, but…’ He faltered, the words catching somewhere deep inside him. ‘What if I don’t like who I become? What if I don’t like the real me?’
Ylva stopped and turned to face him. She stepped closer, close enough to notice the faint hitch in his breath, the slight widening of his eyes as she closed the distance between them. Without quite thinking, she lifted her hand and brushed her fingers against his cheek.
Arden froze beneath her touch.
And something in Ylva’s chest cracked quietly, painfully, at the way he stilled, as though even tenderness was something he did not know how to hold.
‘I think that, if you allow yourself to, Arden Briar, you will love your true self.’
His long, dark fingers brushed her wrist, then lingered over her hand. Ylva knew, knew, that if she did not pull away now, he would step closer. That he would tilt his head and kiss her.
And some small, treacherous part of her wanted him to.
‘Arden…’
‘Yes, little wolf?’ His green eyes held hers, deep and luminous, drawing her in until the world seemed to narrow to the space between them.
She lost all sense of time. How could she feel this way about a man she barely knew?
He was a stranger and yet, it felt as though she had always known him.
As though trusting him was as natural as breathing.
Ylva parted her lips to speak and Arden’s gaze hardened. His free hand snapped up, covering her mouth. Ylva cried out, the sound smothered, and she staggered back instinctively, ready to strike, but he held her still, shushing her urgently.
She shoved him away with a sharp grunt. ‘What is wrong with you?’
But Arden had already turned, his expression twisting into something taut and fearful. Ylva followed his gaze, spinning to see what had startled him.
The forest lay silent. Elric and Nymeria were still moving ahead through the trees, the giant wolf pacing beside them. Yet her winged horse shifted suddenly, uneasy, nostrils flaring.
Then something struck the ground.
The force of it hurled Ylva backwards, ripping the breath from her lungs. She slammed hard into Arden’s chest, his arms closing around her at once, shielding her as they both stumbled.
They looked up together.
A woman stood before them, her long brown hair wild, purple eyes narrowed to slits. But it was her expression that froze Ylva’s blood.
She was smiling.
Not with warmth.
Not with mercy.
With glee.
‘I thought I smelt a dog nearby,’ the woman said, her voice laced with amusement.
Ylva had never seen this witch before, yet instinct took over before thought could follow. She tore her sword from her hip, blade flashing as she prepared to strike. The witch merely cocked her head, regarding them with languid boredom, as though Ylva were little more than an inconvenience.
‘I really don’t have time for this,’ the witch sighed.
Elric and Nymeria were already turning back, weapons drawn, their movements swift and precise. Ylva knew, without doubt, that this witch should have stood no chance against three Black Lotus and a valkyrian. And yet, something was wrong. The witch did not look afraid. She looked… entertained.
She cast Ylva a wicked smirk before pivoting, her attention settling fully on the approaching Fae.
‘I don’t believe I have any use for you,’ the witch said lightly.
Ylva surged forward to attack and froze.
Elric and Nymeria dropped to their knees as though struck by an unseen force. Blood poured from their mouths, dark and sudden, and thin crimson lines leaked from their eyes. Horror seized Ylva’s chest. She opened her mouth to scream, to plead, to demand answers…
But no sound came.
‘I so adore the blood magic witches wield,’ the woman said lightly, glancing back over her shoulder to wink at Ylva.
‘But perhaps we might play with something grander…my god powers, shall we?’ She turned once more, lifting her hands.
Darkness spilt from her fingertips, thick and unnatural, a living shadow that bled into the sky itself.
Clouds surged together, swallowing the light as thunder rolled like a warning from the heavens.
Ylva stood frozen, her gaze dragged upwards as the world dimmed beneath that spreading veil.
Elric and Nymeria both stood and faced each other.
Their eyes clouded over, a white mist blocking their irises.
Elric lunged at Nymeria, and she responded with her own knives, slashing at every chance she got.
Ylva watched in horror as both Fae fought each other.
She could tell they didn’t want to, that Elric was fighting against whatever power the witch was using against them.
His arms trembled with the desire to stop, but it was futile.
Nymeria bent down and slashed at his legs, forcing him to drop to his knees.
‘Please, make it stop,’ Elric said. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Nymeria.’
Tears fell from Nymeria’s eyes, mixing with the dry blood on her cheeks. But she continued to attack, her knives piercing through flesh, her will taken from her. She fought against it, against whatever strings of power gripped her like a possessed doll.
Her entire body shook and trembled as she hovered over Elric, her knife glinting from the light reflected on it.
Elric looked up at his friend, his eyes still clouded over with the need to fight and to kill.
But Nymeria did not give him time to get up, for she moved one last time, the knife lifted in one final arc across Elric’s throat.
The blood sprayed outwards, painting the snow red.
Ylva screamed internally at the sight of Elric dropping to one side, his eyes empty. Dead.
Nymeria turned to face them, and without warning, with tears still falling, she lifted her hand one last time and cut through her own throat.
The witch cackled and lifted her hands, the darkness spreading. It reached for Elric and Nymeria, coiling around their bodies with merciless intent. It tightened. Bones cracked with sickening finality. Flesh split as though it were no more than cloth.
Arden surged forward, instinct overriding reason and Ylva moved with him, terror clawing at her chest at the thought of harm coming to him. But the witch noticed. She clicked her fingers.
The world locked.
Ylva and Arden were frozen mid-step, trapped in place, unable to so much as breathe properly.
‘Don’t be so impatient,’ the witch chided softly, clicking her tongue. Though Ylva was quite uncertain if the woman in front of her was truly a witch. She had mentioned having godly powers…Could it be? Could this woman be a goddess?
The witch gestured lazily towards the Fae as their bodies broke further beneath the crushing grip of shadow.
The darkness crept around their heads, and Ylva’s eyes widened in horror as Elric’s skull imploded.
Then, mere heartbeats later, Nymeria’s followed, bursting apart as fragments of bone and brain scattered across the white ground.
Ylva tried to scream.
Her body would not obey.
The giant white wolf leapt to defend them, fury and loyalty driving it forward, but the witch’s magic caught its leg mid-air, wrenching it down with brutal force. Ylva screamed within herself as the wolf crashed to the ground, its limbs shattering as it whimpered and shrieked in agony.
The witch snapped her fingers once more.
And the wolf fell silent.
She turned towards them, those purple eyes settling on the winged horse.
Ylva tried to scream, tried to beg her beast to run, to flee while it still could, but no sound left her throat.
The horse did not move. It stayed by her side, wings half-spread, its body angled protectively in front of her as though it might somehow shield her from a god’s wrath.
The witch approached Ylva slowly, deliberately, until her face was mere inches away. Her gaze lifted, fixing on the trembling creature beside her.
‘Pity…’ the witch murmured.
Darkness bloomed once more from her hands, surging forward to seize the horse’s wings. ‘Not much use,’ she added idly, ‘if it cannot fly…’
Ylva watched in helpless horror as the magic tore through flesh and bone, ripping the wings apart with brutal finality.
Her poor beast collapsed into the snow, its body wracked with pain until the suffering consumed it entirely.
The witch laughed, the sound sharp and delighted, her features twisted with the joy of cruelty.
Ylva did not dare look at Arden. She did not need to. She could feel his anguish as keenly as her own because it was the echo of a heart breaking, mirrored perfectly in her chest.
The witch snapped her fingers.
The spell shattered.
Ylva crumpled forward onto her knees, the numbness vanishing all at once as grief tore through her.
Tears streamed down her face as a raw, broken wail ripped from her throat at the sight of her fallen horse, the shattered wolf, and the two Fae whose bodies had been destroyed so completely there was scarcely anything left to mourn.
The forest stood silent around them.
The witch dropped to the ground before her, fingers snapping around Ylva’s jaw and forcing her head up.
‘Why?’ Ylva sobbed, the word torn from her chest.
The witch laughed, bright and cruel. ‘Why not?’
‘But you’re a goddess, are you not? The gods are meant to protect us.’
The witch—or goddess, for Ylva was now uncertain of what to call her—cackled. ‘What a silly lie you mortals decided to come up with. What makes you think gods are not evil? That we do not wish you harm?’
Ylva fought the urge to look towards Arden, still frozen where the magic had left him, as though pretending he did not exist might spare him. As though, if she ignored him hard enough, the witch might forget him too. Perhaps she could still save him. Perhaps…
‘I’ve always wanted a pet,’ the witch said softly, her grip tightening on Ylva’s jaw.
Ylva barely felt the pain. Not after what she had witnessed. Not after the blood-soaked snow, the broken bodies, the silence left behind.
The witch rose, hauling Ylva upright with her. In an instant, glowing chains snapped into place around Ylva’s wrists. She struggled against them, panic surging.
‘Stop it,’ the witch hissed, irritation creeping into her voice.
Another set of chains materialised around Arden’s wrists. The witch tugged them sharply, laughing as her magic released its hold on him. He lunged for her without hesitation but the chains whipped up around his neck, constricting with brutal force, choking the breath from him.
‘That’s not how we play,’ the witch crooned.
‘Be a good boy, or you’ll end up like your friends.
’ She gestured casually towards the carnage scattered across the snow.
Then she turned on her heel, yanking the chains that bound them both.
Ylva and Arden shared one final look, an understanding dawning between them, sharp and dreadful as if, at last, they could see the path laid before them.
‘Come along,’ the witch said cheerfully. ‘I promised Hagan some presents. We mustn’t keep him waiting.’
Ylva opened her mouth to plead. To scream. But before a single sound could escape her, the witch snapped her fingers.
The world dissolved in a burst of green smoke leaving behind only the ruined remains of a winged horse, a fallen wolf, and two Fae, broken beyond recognition.