Chapter 26
AXE
Of all the possible secrets Vessa could have buried, I never imagined anything of this magnitude.
The goddess must truly hate my family to deliberately pair me with someone promised to my greatest enemy.
Why else would she have abandoned my parents in their time of need?
Why, after all these years, continue to punish us?
My heart stammers on the realization. What Qinnu was trying to tell me in the conference last night. This isn’t a punishment at all. It’s an opportunity for revenge—what I’ve spent twenty long years thirsting for.
The curse is a thorny paradox. If the Luna goddess truly wanted to atone for what she and the other gods took from the Blood Master, why give the Sponsa Noctis to a lycan?
Vessa is no vampire bride, my wolf snarls. She belongs with us.
Maybe so, I coax him. But that doesn’t make her any less of a threat. She’s been lying to us this entire time.
She didn’t ask for any of this. She is not our enemy.
Right now, I’m in possession of the Blood Master’s only known weakness.
Perhaps the only living thing that has ever mattered to him.
Even so, I can’t deny that she’s chipping away at my armor—that she is my weakness as well.
I don’t know what the hell to think anymore.
Only that I have three options. Claim her, let her go, or put a bullet in her head.
War is inevitable, no matter the recourse.
And I can’t keep the Council in the dark much longer.
Especially if I intend to mark her as my equal.
Having the Yinsew Council breathing down my neck is burdensome enough.
When the other Commanders learn of my mate’s curse .
. . we won’t stand a chance. No one in their right mind would pledge to wage full-scale battle against the monsters who are hunting Vessa.
Lycans are at a vast disadvantage as it is, perpetually at odds with each other.
Still, the alternative is ten times the risk. Should I cut her loose, and she end up in the cold hands of the vampires, nothing would stand in the way of their master finally wreaking havoc on the realm, ascending to power over all creatures.
I can’t even think about it without writhing in fury. Long, curved fangs puncturing her neck instead of mine. Consuming her. Changing her. No. I won’t let it happen.
My mother’s voice is a fleeting whisper in my mind. Somnium was locked away for a reason, Viggo: to hold back the unfathomable darkness.
Clutching my rifle close, I squeeze my eyes shut and listen to the whipping winds as they berate my cheeks.
The memory snags a hook in my chest. Mother would plead with me to find a way for her to stay.
Father would tell me to hold my ground, just as he did in his last moments.
And to kill every last vampire that walks this bloodstained earth.
The Ugruk Circle grows more inhospitable by the day.
The icy domain of the Norgsik spans over 2,300 miles along the Yuet Sea.
It’s no surprise that only nomadic lycans choose to reside here.
Between Bissex and Agathora, almost all humans have abandoned these faraway posts.
In these conditions, rations are few and shelters from extreme subzero temperatures are far between.
Even Volken’s Alpha Commander, whose jurisdiction begins fifty-five miles away on the other side of the Slovko Strait, rarely steps foot in the Circle.
Two years ago, at the height of my vampire eradication campaign, Tesni and I attempted to survey the edge of our province, our objective being to monitor activity around the temple of glaciers.
A legendary floating mountain, known to house the portal to Somnium.
What we found were ruins of a once thriving indigenous community, ravaged by second-gen vampires.
That, and a different scavenger—the qi’yovar.
Snow bears that the Blood Master resurrects into demons.
Bleeding Sun’s warriors responded by tripling our efforts to cleanse the territory of bloodsuckers.
In the heart of winter, the Circle is engulfed by darkness for sixty days.
It was the longest I had ever remained in my wolf form.
Another week and Tesni I likely would have spiraled into a feral psychosis.
Together, we persisted in the agonizing cold, ripping the vampire colony apart limb by limb, throwing their pieces into the sea.
The demons let us believe that we were victorious. That the portal remained undisturbed, only for us to realize that all this time, their master was just regrouping.
The reminder continues to pummel me as Jabir glances down at the map on our monitor.
According to Tesni’s itinerary, she was to make a final stop with the group at a general store in Farrow.
Only accessible by plane, the isolated Bissex town hosts one of the few remaining settlements nestled at the western brim of the Circle, where the confluence of land and ice is nearly indeterminable.
From here, the unit was supposed to trek west, along a smooth plane of thick ice as far as the eye can see.
There’s no place to take cover, no way to blend in.
Just ice and open ocean. It’s exposure that can prove to be a deadly disadvantage.
In Farrow, our crew dismounts the charter plane, loading onto two choppers.
Only thirty minutes pass when Jabir once again shows me the last updated coordinates.
Studying the longitude numbers along my map, it appears that Tesni ran into trouble approximately fifteen miles from the Slokvo Strait. The portal.
I find a spot on the map where the fast ice meets floating ice, the safest option to make a landing. We adjust our coordinates and prepare to dismount within the hour. But soon, a coppery scent catches my nose from the air. When the chopper’s light beam hits the exact spot, my bones freeze over.
Bodies. Ice and tattered tents splattered in blood.
Damn it. Are we too late?
I elbow Jabir, directing him to follow my line of sight. Face paling, he swears.
“Captain,” I rumble. “Ready for landing.”
The pilot hesitates. “I’m afraid we can’t. The fast ice in this zone can’t support our weight. We’ll have to find somewhere closer to the glacier formations.”
Two minutes later, our choppers touchdown in total darkness.
Jabir and the secondary pilot bundle up and ready the snowmobiles with machine guns, loaded heavily with 38-millimeter silver bullets.
Qinnu shifts into wolf form, blazing ahead.
Keeping a close eye on his six, Jabir and I slip on our leather gloves and load our weapons.
Without my sling, my collarbone throbs when I raise my weapon and rest it in the cradle of my underarm.
My eyes and ears narrow in as we slip into the frigid void. No lights, no sounds, save for the whistling wind and the pounding paws on the ice sheets.
Within minutes, we reach the site of the camp in ruins.
Disemboweled bodies litter the ice, spilled intestines crystallized by frost. One by one, Jabir and I check their faces, though based on how blue and bloody they are, it’s nearly impossible to identify who lays before us.
Though one thing is for certain: not one of these carcasses has the ink of Bleeding Sun.
I radio the secondary pilot. Just as his muffled response comes through, an urgent howl pierces the silence.
Qinnu jerks his head, summoning us to follow.
Together, the snowmobile crew pursues, ice gradually thinning beneath our wheels.
We stop at the edge, five feet from where ice meets the ocean.
There stands the missing Sentinel along with a pair of shivering cadets.
The rest huddle together a hundred yards out, floating on a slab of glacier.
Tesni runs towards me, throwing her arms around my waist. Her face is blotchy as she pulls away. “There was a storm. Three days ago. We were ambushed.”
I take in the rest of her, noting that a pint’s worth of blood coats Tesni’s pants. “They found you? The vampires?”
She coughs, almost stumbling. “Lycans.”
One of the cadets, a tawny young wolf clinging to an iceberg, finally passes out from cold, slipping into the water.
Tripp throws out an arm, almost losing balance himself.
Sensing the distress, Qinnu darts off, plunging into the water.
He paddles frantically, gunning to reach her before she drowns.
“Where did they come from?”
Tesni extends her arm, pointing southwest. Towards Markkus’s land. “Maybe a mile or so that way? It was nearly impossible to tell during the whiteout. Storm split us up during the attack. If anyone retreated, I wouldn’t know.”
At her flank, a cadet’s throat bobs. “There must’ve been ten of them. They were expecting us.”
Out in the water, Qinnu paddles over to the sheet where the others are stranded. Less than a mile beyond them is a floating structure of ice. What’s left of the icy temple that conceals the only known portal to the gates of Somnium.
My eyes dart to Tesni. “You’re telling me there wasn’t a single vampire out here?”
“Affirmative.”
By now, Qinnu has reached the unconscious warrior, using his jaws to guide her forward and heave her back onto the ice sheet. In wolf form, Tripp stands by, instantly curling his yellow frame around the female to warm her.
I pull out my radio and give the pilot the coordinates of the isolated sheet where the others have taken shelter. Just as Qinnu props himself up on the edge, something large and silver surfaces. The animal latches onto his ankle, pulling him under.
I swear at the sight of its fanlike tail. “Seals?”
Tesni nods, shivering. “Hooded males. We intruded on their mating season.”
Jabir groans. “This ought to be good.”
I raise my rifle to my injured shoulder, cocking it.
Tesni spots the bandages peeking out from my heavy parka. “What the hell happened to you?”