Claimed By His Glow (Asgarheim Runevald Institute #2)

Prologue 1-Sten

“Good evening, Menon Blau.”

Her voice followed me before I saw her.

Measured. Controlled. Impossible to ignore.

I stopped.

Slowly.

The corridor of the Asgarheim Runevald Institute stretched long and dim behind me, rune-light pulsing faintly along the stone walls.

Power lived in this place—coiled beneath every step, woven into every breath—and even that ancient magic seemed to pause as I turned to face her.

“It’s Sten, professor,” I corrected.

Professor Kenna did not miss much.

Names least of all.

She stilled, then turned fully toward me, the hem of her dark robes whispering across the floor like something alive.

“Yes,” she said, studying me with that sharp, knowing gaze. “Sten. You prefer that to your given name.”

A pause.

“May I ask why?”

I clenched my jaw.

She knew.

Of course, she knew.

There was very little that escaped the professor of Runevald—especially not something as inconvenient as a celestial bloodline walking her halls.

“You know as well as I do,” I said, voice low, edged with something I didn’t bother to hide, “it’s safer.”

Her brow lifted slightly.

Not surprised.

Never surprised.

“Safer,” she repeated, as if weighing the word. “For whom?”

“For everyone,” I growled.

The name Menon Blau was not simply a name.

It was a declaration.

A lineage.

A target.

As a direct descendant of Máni, the Norse God of the Moon, I carried more than power in my blood. I carried inheritance.

Responsibility.

Expectation.

And enemies—ancient, patient, and more than willing to strike before I ever took my place.

Because that was the truth of it.

My life had already been decided.

I would ascend.

I would take my rightful position as Premier Celestial Guardian of Asgard, joining the long-standing order that protected the balance between realms.

It should have been simple.

It should have been inevitable.

But power—real power—never came without cost.

“Yes,” I continued, forcing calm back into my voice, “here, I am Sten. Not Menon Blau. I refuse to be a title. And I will not be a target.”

Here I was still a Monster, but I could also simply exist.

I couldn’t outrun my destiny, but perhaps I could delay it.

Her gaze did not soften.

“It is not the name that draws danger to you,” she said quietly. “It is what you are.”

I almost laughed.

There it was.

Truth, stripped clean.

“I am aware,” I replied.

Too aware.

My power was not subtle.

It never had been.

The moon did not whisper.

It pulled.

It commanded.

It demanded.

Tides shifted when I lost control.

Seasons stuttered.

Magic—everywhere—bent, warped, responded whether I willed it or not.

That was the core of the problem.

Not my power, but my lack of control.

See, I could not yet wield it.

I could only hope to survive it.

“Did you know,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice just enough that it would not carry beyond us, “of all celestial bodies across all realms, it is the moon that holds the most power?”

Her expression still did not change.

But I felt her attention sharpen.

“It governs more than light,” I continued. “It touches everything. Magic. Blood. Growth. Decay. The tides of entire worlds rise and fall at its command.”

A beat.

“And I am expected to control that.”

I let the weight of it hang between us.

“So, here,” I finished, “I am only Sten. Do not forget it.”

Silence followed.

Until the whisper of her robes reached me where I stood.

“I will endeavor to remember,” she said smoothly, one brow arching ever so slightly as she moved to the far end of the corridor, “as you will remember to treat me with the respect due my position.”

I held her gaze for a long moment.

Then I inclined my head.

A deep bow.

One reserved for power that deserved recognition.

Because she was powerful.

That much I could not deny.

Runevald itself answered to her.

And that alone made her dangerous.

When I straightened, I did not linger.

I turned, offering her my back—a calculated risk, one I would not have taken with many others—and continued down the hall.

I could feel her watching me.

Assessing.

Measuring.

She always did.

I said nothing more.

Because there was nothing to say that would change the truth.

I did not want to be here.

And that was no one’s fault but my own.

I knew my power was growing.

Unstable.

Unrefined.

A force that surged without warning, pulling at the world around me like gravity itself had grown impatient.

Without control, it was not a gift.

It was a liability.

Dangerous.

Unpredictable.

A curse disguised as destiny.

And the Guard of Máni was only as strong as its weakest link.

I refused to be that weakness.

Which was why I was here.

At Runevald.

Among Witches, Monsters, and things far older than either—learning to contain what should already have been mine to command.

But there was another truth.

One I did not speak aloud.

One I did not allow myself to consider for longer than a passing thought.

My power would not fully stabilize until I completed the bond.

The one thing I had no desire to find.

My mate.

A cosmic necessity, they called it.

A balancing force.

A tether.

I called it something else.

A trap.

Because power like mine did not simply exist.

It required anchor.

And that anchor came in the form of another.

Someone destined.

Someone chosen.

Someone who would bind herself to me, whether she understood the consequences or not.

The thought turned my stomach.

Who would want that?

Who would willingly step into the orbit of something that could consume entire realms if left unchecked?

I exhaled sharply as I pushed through the heavy doors leading out onto the upper terrace.

The night greeted me immediately.

Cold.

Alive.

Endless.

The sky above Asgarheim was never still. Auroras twisted across it in ribbons of green and violet, the ley lines beneath the Institute rising upward, threading through the heavens like veins of living light.

Here, the multiverse did not feel distant.

It felt close.

Too close.

I stepped to the edge, letting the wind tear through me, letting the night wrap itself around my senses.

This—this was where I could breathe.

Where the pull of the moon steadied instead of overwhelmed.

Where I could almost pretend I was in control.

Almost.

Below, the Institute stretched wide—towers, courtyards, hidden corridors filled with students who belonged here in ways I did not.

They formed bonds.

Friendships.

Alliances.

I kept to myself.

Anonymous.

Alone.

It was easier that way.

Safer.

For them.

For me.

Because if the Fates had decided there was someone meant for me… she was better off lost somewhere across the multiverse.

Far from this place.

Far from me.

Because I knew exactly what I was capable of.

And I refused to be the reason someone else paid the price.

The wind shifted.

The ley lines pulsed.

Something in the night… stirred.

I stilled.

Just for a moment.

A flicker of something unfamiliar brushed against my awareness—soft, distant, barely there.

Then it was gone.

I exhaled slowly.

Dismissed it.

Because that kind of hope?

It had no place in my life.

And if the universe thought to change that?

Then it was making a mistake.

One I would not allow to stand.

I turned away from the edge, retreating back into shadow.

Back into control.

Back into the life I had chosen.

Alone.

Always alone.

And I was determined to keep it that way.