Chapter 67 Danica #2
And, can we take a moment to appreciate that we took down Loki?
Like, the actual God of Mischief and Lies?
I mean, I know I've got this whole 'savior blood' thing going on, and Rhyland's a demigod powerhouse, but still.
We tag-teamed a god and won. That's got to earn us some serious cosmic brownie points, right?
Though I guess you get one hell of a cocktail when you mix savior juice with demigod mojo.
Even Loki didn't see that one coming. And speaking of things I didn't see coming—I can go full Storm from X-Men now?
That was terrifying and exhilarating, like riding a hurricane while trying not to pee your pants.
Definitely need to practice that particular party trick before I accidentally create a tornado in the living room.
I still remember Loki's taunts to Rhyland about "staying dead.
" It got me thinking—Loki's clearly been playing the long game here.
He knew about Rhyland's resurrection, about my whole destiny schtick.
He's been lurking in the shadows like a creeper, just waiting for the perfect moment to hitch a ride back to ásgard and throw a wrench in the cosmic gears.
All those "coincidences," all those perfect moments of chaos—he was moving pieces on a board we didn't even know we were playing on.
The Zephyrite stone pulses against my head, agreeing with my anger.
Or maybe it's just reminding me not to accidentally summon a thunderstorm while I'm brooding.
Being a savior really needs to come with an instruction manual.
"How to Handle Your Godly Powers Without Destroying the Weather System: A Beginner's Guide. "
Bryn resurfaces with an energetic grin, leather satchels slung over her shoulders like some mythical bag lady. Erik's on her in a hot second, playing the gallant knight and relieving her of her burdens.
But not before laying a kiss on her that makes me want to whistle appreciatively. Get it, sis!
I turn to Rhyland, jerking my thumb toward our room. "Gonna do a final sweep, make sure we didn't forget any mystical souvenirs or enchanted underwear."
He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Make it quick, baby. If I don't leave this winter wonderland soon, I will start sprouting icicles in unfortunate places."
I blow him a kiss, sauntering off to our love nest. Pushing open the door, I give the room a once-over. Daggers? Check. Boots? Check. Sanity? Debatable, but I'm pretty sure that's not something I can pack anyway.
I'm about to leave when something on the bedside table catches my eye. A crumpled yellow scrap of paper. But not just any paper. Oh no. That, my friends, is a motherfucking post-it note.
In ásgard?
A realm known for many things—epic battles, mead-soaked feasts, questionable fashion choices involving horned helmets—but definitely not for its office supplies.
Last I checked, Norse gods weren't big on this kind of stuff. So either 3M has started a new interdimensional marketing campaign, or something's up.
I flip the note over, scanning the scrawled message. And promptly feel my blood pressure skyrocket.
Yo savior bestie—
Shit's FUBAR. Queen Bitch of the North snatched Seraphina, and Morgan decided to DIY a glory hole to hell. Because why the fuck not? Now we've got a demon living it up at House of Hogwarts. Get your prophecy ass home before this turns into Satan's block party.
Your favorite witch who's done with your shit.
"Fuck." The word explodes from my mouth as I burst from the room like my ass is on fire.
Rhyland's head snaps up, his expression shifting from 'mildly concerned' to 'ready to murder someone' in 0.2 seconds. "What's wrong?"
"We need to go. Like, right now." I thrust the post-it at him like it's a ticking bomb. "Read."
He stares at the yellow paper, then at me, then back at the paper. His face is completely blank, as if I had just handed him instructions for assembling IKEA furniture in ancient Sanskrit.
"I don't understand."
"What's not to understand? It's written in plain English!" I snatch it back, waving it in his face. "Did that frozen lake scramble your brain cells? Emily's—"
"K?ra," he cuts me off, that stupid sexy eyebrow of his climbing toward his hairline. "That paper is blank."
I freeze, looking between the note and my man like I'm watching a tennis match. "Blank? What do you mean blank? It's right here! Emily's snark in all its yellow post-it glory!"
But Rhyland stares at me with that 'my woman might be losing her mind but I still love her' look. “Baby, I saw this days ago. Thought nothing of it."
Oh my god. Days ago??
I blink at him. Once. Twice. "Let me get this straight—you saw a Post-it note in the realm of Norse gods, magical horses and thought 'yeah, that tracks'? In a place where the most advanced writing technology is probably a fancy quill?"
His brow furrows, and I can practically see the light bulb moment as realization hits him. "Shit."
"Yeah, shit is right." I wave the note in his face."Short version? Your mom's playing kidnapper with Seraphina, and we've got an unexpected demon roommate." The words tumble out in a rush. "So maybe we could speed up this realm-hopping exit?"
Rhyland's face hardens into that battle-ready mask I know too well.
We're moving before I can blink, boots crunching through fresh snow as we head for a secluded spot.
Erik and Bryn fall in behind us, no questions asked.
That's the thing about immortal warriors—they know when to save the twenty questions for later.
I raise my hand, magic tingling at my fingertips, ready to tear open reality and get us home. That's when I hear it—a sound that squeezes my heart like it's caught in a vice.
The familiar golden whinny splits the air.
Gullfax emerges from the swirling snow like a living sunrise, his golden coat catching what little light filters through the clouds. "Lightborn," his voice echoes in my mind, gentle as summer rain. "Would you leave without bidding farewell?"
My throat closes, and the tears come before I can stop them.
I press my face into his warm neck, breathing in the scent of sunshine and stardust. His presence wraps around me like a physical embrace, and suddenly, I remember everything—soaring through storm-dark skies to save Erik and Bryn, pulling me from the icy grip of that frozen lake, charging at the Draugr to shield me, always standing by whenever we needed him.
I despise this—these constant goodbyes. They tear at my heart every time.
"You beautiful, magnificent creature," I whisper against his golden coat. "You didn't just carry us through the realm. You carried us through hell itself. You're not just some magical horse—you're family." My voice cracks. "And I don't know how to say goodbye to family."
Gullfax's warm breath stirs my hair. "Who says this is goodbye, little light? As long as light shines and wind blows, I am a whisper away. Call, and I will answer."
I hug him tighter, memorizing the feel of him beneath my fingers. "Promise?"
His gentle laugh ripples through my mind. "I swear by sun and storm. Now go. The realms needs its savior."
I step back, swiping at my tears. Rhyland moves forward, his hand steady as he extends it to Gullfax.
The divine stallion lowers his head, pressing his velvet nose against Rhyland's palm.
The touch seems to break something in my man—his shoulders tremble, throat working against emotions I've rarely seen him display.
"Thank you, buddy," Rhyland's voice comes out rough, raw. "For everything."
Seeing my indestructible alpha man fighting back tears breaks the last of my composure. A sob escapes before I can trap it behind my teeth.
Gullfax's ancient eyes close, touching his forehead to Rhyland's. His voice echoes in my mind, meant for Rhyland—"Guard our Lightborn well, son of Magni."
I whisper the words to Rhyland, watching his jaw clench tight enough to crack stone.
Then Gullfax rises, powerful and proud, golden hooves striking sparks from the very air. For one breathtaking moment, he's more than just a horse—he's stardust and storms, legend made flesh, divinity wrapped in golden hide.
And then he's gone, leaving nothing but echoing hoofbeats and the lingering scent of summer winds.