Chapter Thirty-Nine
There are rumours that gods will marry within their own families to grow more powerful. I don’t think this is true, for they gain power precisely the opposite way. By marrying into other realms.
However, I wouldn’t put it past them the killing of a sibling or a child to gain power.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘Shouldn’t you be making for the castle?
’ Kage asked, stepping closer to Bryn. The wolverian king had been travelling for days across the snow, though the terrain had begun to soften beneath their feet, the ice surrendering at last. In the distance, Kage could make out the vast mountain range that marked the border between the Kingdom of Snow and the Kingdom of Fauna.
It was jagged and ancient. Unforgiving. There were easier crossings, he knew, but they lay far to the south.
‘Caldwell’s most likely already taken da castle,’ Bryn replied, his attention fixed on the looming peaks ahead, his eyes narrowing as if he might will the stone itself to part.
‘And you do not intend to take it back?’
Bryn slowed, then paused altogether, casting a sideways glance at Kage. ‘First I need to find me brotha Eirwen.’
‘And you believe he is on that mountain?’ Kage’s voice did not change, nor did his expression.
Bryn huffed a breath that might almost have been a laugh. ‘Didn’t think ya capable of sarcasm, Kage Blackburn.’
‘I’m not.’
Bryn sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. ‘Truth is, I’ve no idea where Eirwen might be. But he wouldn’t have stayed on wolverian lands, not with Caldwell hunting for him. Me guess is he headed towards da Fae. And da closest city to this stretch of land is Velunthar.’
Kage nodded and set off once more, his steps quiet against the softening snow—until he halted, watching as Bryn began to gather fallen branches and dry twigs for a fire.
Kage tilted his head, glancing up through the bare limbs of the trees, and felt the familiar pull tighten in his chest. Evening.
Of course. Dusk always came too quickly.
He was only ever permitted these borrowed hours beside Bryn, only the mercy of night.
‘I’ve left markings on da trees for ya,’ Bryn said, dropping his collected wood into a rough pile. ‘So when ya return at night, ya can find me.’
Kage knelt and arranged the kindling with practised hands, coaxing flame from spark until the fire caught and breathed warm light into the cold. ‘Do you not ever wonder where I go?’ he asked quietly.
He heard Bryn sigh before he looked up, saw the wolverian king lower himself to the ground opposite the fire, its glow painting gold across his weary features.
‘I did, at first,’ Bryn admitted. ‘But now…’
‘You don’t care,’ Kage finished softly.
‘Of course I care.’ Bryn’s voice sharpened, steel cutting through the calm. ‘But if ya haven’t told me, then ya must have yer reasons.’
Kage’s chest tightened. He wanted to tell him.
He wanted to tear the truth from his own throat and lay it bare between them.
His lips parted, the confession trembling on the edge of speech, but then he saw Bryn’s eyes.
That endless blue, fractured and hollowed by loss, by a grief so vast it seemed to eclipse the world.
And Kage could not do it. Could not be the one to shatter what little remained.
So he swallowed the truth and let it sink back into silence, even as it lodged like a blade in his heart. He would carry it alone, even if it meant Bryn grew to resent him, little by little, night after night.
‘Ya don’t have to come with me,’ Bryn said, nudging another branch into the fire until the flames leapt higher, crackling their approval.
‘Do you not wish me to?’ Kage asked quietly.
He held his breath, hope a fragile thing fluttering in his chest, foolishly wishing Bryn might laugh and dismiss the question altogether.
Of course he wanted him there. Of course.
And yet Kage had learnt all too well that reality was rarely so kind, and people seldom said the words one longed to hear.
Bryn did not answer. Instead, he asked, ‘Why are ya following me?’
The lack of an answer was, in itself, an answer.
‘You shouldn’t be alone,’ Kage said.
‘I’m not.’
Kage frowned, the words catching him off guard. Before he could ask what Bryn meant, the wolverian lifted two fingers to his mouth and released a sharp whistle. It was strange and haunting, as if it belonged more to the forest than to any man.
Seconds later, shadows shifted between the trees.
Wolves emerged silently, one by one, their bodies sleek and sure, their blue eyes bright with quiet intelligence as they fixed their stare on Kage.
They were not enormous, not the stuff of legends and nightmares, but they did not need to be.
There were enough of them. More than enough.
A living wall of teeth and loyalty, ready to tear apart anything foolish enough to threaten their king.
‘I’m neva alone,’ Bryn said simply.
‘I see.’
Kage considered standing then. Considered turning away, slipping back into the dark where he belonged. Perhaps this was what Bryn wanted. To be left to his wolves and to his grief.
But Kage could not move.
Something stuck him there, beside the fire, its warmth useless against the ache in his chest. He remained crouched, the flames flickering between them, staring at Bryn as though the fire itself were a barrier he could not cross.
Silently, desperately, he pleaded for the wolverian king to soften his glare. To let him stay, just a little longer.
‘During the day I—’
‘Ya don’t need to do that. I don’t need to know,’ Bryn cut in gently, before reaching for one of his thick furs and spreading it across the ground.
He lay down with the ease of someone long accustomed to sleeping beneath open skies.
Within minutes, his breathing evened out, deep and steady, and sleep claimed him.
Kage watched him.
He did not look away when Bryn drifted fully into rest, nor when the fire crackled low and the forest shifted around them. He remained where he was, seated beside the flames like a silent sentinel, his dark eyes tracking every rise and fall of the wolverian king’s chest.
All through the night, Kage kept watch.
When a sound stirred in the distance—a snapped twig, the whisper of movement—he rose without hesitation to investigate, making certain no danger crept too close.
At times, the wolves followed him soundlessly, their presence a quiet reassurance rather than a threat.
Once or twice, they returned carrying rabbits in their jaws, laid at his feet as offerings.
Kage cooked them carefully and placed the food near Bryn so it would be there when dawn came.
He did not sleep.
He did not leave.
He simply stayed, guarding what little peace Bryn had left, until the night itself began to thin.
Kage watched the sky as it softened from black to ash-grey, then slowly bloomed into a clear, aching blue.
It was a colour he had once taken for granted.
Normally, he would be gone long before this moment, long before Bryn stirred, gone before the sun could claim him and drag him back to the Underworld.
But this time, Kage stayed.
He remained seated beside the fire long after it had guttered and died, its embers hissing faintly in the cold.
His gaze never wavered from the heavens, and a quiet smile touched his lips as the first fingers of sunlight crept across the land.
He wondered, distantly, if he would ever feel the warmth of the sun again, truly feel it, on his skin.
As dawn fully broke, Bryn began to stir.
Kage did not turn. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, as if sheer will might grant him this one final indulgence. And for a heartbeat, it did. The sunlight reached him, spilling across the ground, bathing the world in gold…
And then the earth gave way.
The ground beneath Kage split open without warning, darkness yawning wide as it swallowed him whole. There was no pain, only the sudden, ruthless pull of what claimed him.
The last thing Kage saw was Bryn’s face; horrified and wide-eyed, framed by the morning light, as the sun’s warmth melted over Kage like a benediction he could never keep.
…
Kage was startled to find Zagreus waiting for him the instant the Underworld tore him back into its grasp.
He landed hard on the ashen ground between the Fields of Mourning and the Forest of Silent Cries, far from the places Zagreus usually haunted.
He barely had time to steady himself before Zagreus seized his arm and hauled him away, dragging him from the path he had meant to take.
They had not gone far when a familiar weight thundered towards them.
Wren came bounding out of the gloom, her massive form cutting through the grey haze as she hurried to Kage’s side.
She pressed her muzzle to his face, licking him insistently, before fixing Zagreus with a warning stare that spoke of teeth and consequences should he continue manhandling Kage in such a way.
Zagreus muttered a stream of curses under his breath but released Kage at once, lifting both hands in surrender to show the giant wolf that he meant no harm.
Satisfied, Wren settled back on her haunches and began licking one paw, content now that peace, however fragile, had been restored between them.
‘I need a favour,’ Zagreus said, already turning back towards Tartarus.
Kage knew he ought not to follow. He knew it with the same quiet certainty that told him the sun would never truly warm his skin again. And yet, he followed anyway.
‘What kind of favour?’
Zagreus cast him a wary glance, as though the ease with which Kage walked beside him unsettled him. As though help, freely given, was a foreign thing in this realm.
‘I need Mal to kill Eris for me.’
Kage stopped short. The Underworld seemed to hush around them.
‘Mal is a little busy at the moment.’
Zagreus pulled a sharp expression, his already angular features tightening into something brittle and furious. ‘My mother is planning to wed me to Eris.’
‘Isn’t Eris your cousin?’