Chapter Forty-Eight
Themis created the valkyrians to bring justice and balance to the world.
And yet, they say that Eris and Enyo forced her into compliance, into allowing them to be a part of that creation.
I’ve heard that if Themis dies, Eris and Enyo could take full control of the valkyrians.
That they could turn them into something unseen ever before.
Tabitha Wysteria
Kage could scarcely comprehend how far Bryn had travelled in mere days.
The mountain already loomed before them, vast and impenetrable, and the wolverian king had begun the arduous task of skirting its colossal spine.
The path was treacherous. It was narrow, jagged, and carved with cruel intent, designed to ensure that no unwelcome soul ventured far into the Kingdom of Fauna without paying for it in blood or bone.
Kage did not know how he always managed to reappear so near to Bryn’s trail. It helped, of course, that Bryn left markings upon bark and stone; quiet signals only Kage would understand. For the first time in longer than he could remember, something inside him softened.
He smiled.
He found Bryn higher up the path, boots steady upon the rock, a pack of wolves padding faithfully behind him. The moment Kage revealed himself, every head snapped towards him, lips curling, low growls rippling through the thin mountain air.
‘They say this mountain was built by one of da gods,’ Bryn said as they pressed on, voice carrying easily across the stone. ‘There was a fight with Persephone over da lands. Couldn’t come to an agreement. So da god tore da earth open and raised this to keep both realms apart.’
Kage let his gaze travel up the jagged cliffs, sharp as broken teeth against the sky. ‘Sounds about right,’ he muttered, irritation threading through his tone at the mere mention of Persephone.
‘What?’ Bryn frowned, glancing sideways at him.
‘Nothing,’ Kage replied, though the word tasted like ash.
They walked for hours without speaking. At times the path narrowed so cruelly that they were forced into single file, boots placed carefully in the indent left by the other.
No army could hope to pass through such a passage unnoticed; it was a vein carved into the mountain’s flesh, meant for solitary travellers and secrets, not banners and marching drums. Kage knew that those who understood the land would use this way to slip between kingdoms like shadows, unseen and unchallenged.
When night swallowed the last of the light and the wind turned bitter, they found a shallow opening in the mountain’s side and took shelter within.
The air inside was cold but still, the stone breathing faint dampness.
Bryn shrugged off his thick furs and laid them across the ground to make a bed.
Then, without ceremony, he stripped off his shirt and stepped beneath the thin ribbon of water that trickled down the rock face.
Kage watched.
Water ran over muscle and bone, and over scars.
There were dozens of them. Pale, angry lines that crossed Bryn’s back and chest like a map of violence.
‘You never told me exactly what happened,’ Kage said quietly.
Bryn stilled. His gaze dropped to his own body, and a slow breath left him.
‘Caldwell was me papa’s second in command,’ he began, voice roughened by memory. ‘But he’d been wanting da throne for years. I always knew he’d be trouble one day.’ His jaw tightened. ‘When we found me entire family butchered, he challenged me for da crown.’
The mountain seemed to hold its breath.
‘But he cheated,’ Bryn continued, fury flickering beneath the words. ‘His men stabbed me over and over, left me there thinking I’d bleed out like a dog.’
Kage’s dark eyes widened, the image forming far too easily in his mind.
‘It is not our way,’ Bryn said, something wounded and wrathful threading through his tone. ‘We fight with honour. With dignity. Not like that.’
Kage glanced at the wolves curled within the cramped hollow, their bodies pressed closely together.
‘Why didn’t the wolves protect you from Caldwell?’ Kage asked quietly.
Bryn stilled.
His attention lingered on the pack for a long moment, a faint crease forming between his brows.
He pulled his shirt back over his scarred torso and lowered himself onto the thick furs.
The air here had shifted—no longer the sharp bite of wolverian frost, but something heavier, almost humid. They could forgo a fire.
‘I suppose they knew I wouldn’t die,’ Bryn said at last, his voice carrying a softness Kage had not heard before. Sadness, threaded through like silver in dark cloth. ‘They must have known Wren was already gone.’
The words lingered between them.
‘So…’ Kage cleared his throat, the sound small against the stone walls. ‘How does it work exactly? Can you never die? Are you immortal?’
Bryn shrugged, though there was a weight to the motion. ‘I don’t think I’m immortal. Only da gods are such things.’ He stared at his hands. ‘I’ll die eventually. It may just take a very long time.’
There was something in his blue eyes. Not fear, not quite, but a quiet sorrow. As if the thought of enduring too long was its own kind of curse.
‘Or perhaps I’ll age like any other man,’ he added. ‘Grow old, grey. I simply cannot die by da hands of another.’ He lifted a shoulder again, as though it were of little consequence.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kage said softly. ‘About your family. About everything.’
Bryn nodded once. Then he lay back against the furs, his gaze fixing on Kage with such intensity that the wyverian wondered if some invisible truth had surfaced upon his face.
‘I’m sorry too, Kage,’ Bryn said after a while.
Kage’s breath faltered. ‘For what?’
‘For whatever happened to ya.’
The words struck deeper than any blade.
Kage tensed.
Did Bryn know? Surely he couldn’t. Yes, the wolverian king must have noticed the way Kage vanished with the rising sun, swallowed by something unseen, but suspicion was not knowledge.
He could not possibly know the truth.
That Kage Blackburn was dead.
That he walked this world only by curse and consequence.
Kage remained where he was, keeping vigil as he did every night. The mountain breathed around them, stone sighing with distant trickles of water, wolves shifting in their sleep.
But tonight Bryn did not close his eyes.
He watched Kage instead.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Kage said quietly, as though the promise alone might ease whatever storm brewed behind those blue irises.
Bryn gave no reply. He simply pushed himself upright and crossed the small space between them. One of his thick furs was lifted and set carefully at Kage’s side.
‘Ya will be warmer.’
Kage almost told him it would make no difference, that warmth and cold no longer touched him the way they once had. But he swallowed the truth and merely inclined his head, shifting onto the fur.
Bryn joined him.
Their shoulders nearly brushed. The space between them felt charged, fragile as frost on glass.
‘I know ya say we’re both doomed,’ Bryn said, leaning closer still. The movement made Kage’s dark eyes widen, breath catching somewhere deep in his chest. ‘But we might as well enjoy da fall.’
The words settled between them; reckless, dangerous and alive.
Kage parted his lips to answer, but Bryn erased the distance between them before any words could form.
The kiss was soft at first. Hesitant, almost questioning, a brush of warmth in the growing dusk.
The last of the light beyond the cave mouth bled into shadow, but Kage did not care.
Darkness had long since been his companion.
When Bryn drew back, breath mingling with his, Kage nearly spoke the truth. It rose to his tongue; the warning, the confession, the curse that chained him to a fate neither of them could outrun.
But he saw it then.
The same hunger.
The same aching need to feel something other than grief.
He could not be the one to shatter Bryn further.
If they were both already broken, then perhaps, just for this moment, they could pretend to be whole.
Kage’s hand slid to the back of Bryn’s neck, fingers threading into the cool strands of his silver hair, and he pulled him in again. This time the kiss was deeper, no longer tentative but urgent, as though the world itself might crumble if they did not hold on to one another.
The cave, the wolves, the mountain… all of it faded.
He did not think of the path ahead, nor of the abyss that waited for them both. He did not think of the Underworld, or of dawn, or of the cruel pull that would soon drag him away.
He thought only of this.
Of Bryn’s breath against his skin.
Of the steady press of a living body so close to his own.
Of the fragile illusion that his heart, long silent, might dare to beat again.
For once, Kage allowed himself to feel.
And for once, that was enough.
Kage helped Bryn shrug his shirt from his shoulders, fingers lingering for a moment against warm skin before letting the fabric fall away.
In the dim hush of the mountain cave, Bryn reached for him in return, slower now, more careful.
He undressed Kage piece by piece, movements unhurried, almost reverent.
At times he paused, fingertips brushing over Kage’s chilled skin, as though puzzled by the coldness there, but he did not ask.
Neither of them dared to fracture the moment with questions.
The world seemed to tilt when Bryn’s mouth traced a path down Kage’s body, kisses pressed into skin that had forgotten what warmth felt like.
Each touch unravelled him further, Bryn’s mouth growing closer and closer to where the ache resided.
When his lips pressed against Kage’s cock, restraint became impossible and soon he fell apart beneath Bryn’s devotion, breath shuddering into the darkness.
For a fleeting second, something stirred within him; a faint, impossible flutter where his heart should have been.