Chapter 8-Draugr
The castle top was cold tonight.
It always was—but tonight the chill bit deeper, sharper, as if the very stones knew what I was resisting.
Every night, I stood watch.
Not because I had been ordered to.
Not because the Institute required it.
But because it was the only lie I could live with.
The only way I could convince myself to remain out here—on the wind-lashed battlements, beneath a sky that never truly slept—while she existed just beyond those walls.
Inside.
Breathing.
Unaware.
Too close.
If I gave it a purpose, it became something else.
Not obsession.
Not hunger.
Duty.
I was guarding the perimeter.
Watching the gates.
Ensuring nothing crossed into Runevald that should not.
If I was acting as protector, then it all made sense.
It gave shape to the madness.
It softened the edge of what I truly was.
Because the truth?
The truth was far less noble.
I wasn’t watching for threats from beyond the walls.
I was watching myself.
Every flicker of movement in the courtyard, every pulse of magic that drifted from the halls below—I tracked it all with relentless precision, as if vigilance alone could keep me anchored.
As if distance could keep her safe.
Wind tore at my wings, snapping against my legs, but I did not move.
I welcomed the cold. Let it sink into my bones, let it dull the fire that never truly went out.
It didn’t work.
Nothing ever did.
Because no matter how still I stood, no matter how far I kept myself from her—
I could feel her.
A steady presence beneath my skin.
A heartbeat I had memorized without ever touching.
A pull I could not sever.
My fingers curled slowly against the stone parapet, claws biting deep enough to crack ancient rock.
“Stay here,” I muttered to myself, voice low, roughened by restraint. “Stay out of reach.”
Because if I stepped inside?
If I let myself get close?
There would be no pretending.
No disguising whatever this pull was that I felt as duty.
No soothing the lie.
The Monster inside me did not care for logic.
It did not understand restraint.
It only understood need.
Hunger.
Possession.
Claim.
I closed my eyes briefly, forcing a breath through clenched teeth.
Standing watch.
That was what this was.
Not weakness.
Not obsession.
Protection.
For her.
From me.
And for now—that was enough to keep the darkness at bay.
Barely.
“So, you have found her.”
I spun in a crouch, fangs bared.
Professor MacLeish stood in the storm as if it were a light drizzle, calmly collecting rain in glass jars.
Runes etched into each bottle glowed faintly, storing atmospheric charge for whatever potion or ward he planned to craft.
“You look like shite, Raven,” he observed.
My lip curled.
“I told you. I’m not Raven anymore.”
The name belonged to the boy I had been.
Before the title.
Before the mantle.
Before I embraced the Monster.
“I’m the Draugr.”
“Aye,” he replied mildly. “But I dinnae think that’s your whole story.”
My knees wobbled when I stood.
I hated it.
Hated the weakness.
But I took his hand when he offered it.
Pride is useless when one’s heart feels like it’s being crushed by fate.
“You’ve found her,” he said quietly.
“How can you know that?”
He smiled in that infuriatingly calm way.
“Where is she?”
Without thinking, I answered.
“She’s walking down the main road toward the village pub.”
Silence.
Then realization.
“Wait. How did I know that?”
“You imprinted.”
The word detonated inside my skull.
No.
Impossible.
I barked a laugh that sounded feral even to my own ears.
“The Norns have never blessed a Draugr in generations. Why would they start with me?”
Because you’re breaking.
Because you’ve tried to be better.
Because Raven never fully died.
I crushed the thoughts.
My DeathFace surged forward, skeletal and corpse-like.
Flesh hollowed. Fangs lengthened. Horns sharpened.
In the professor’s eyes I saw my reflection—the Monster I had become.
He turned his head and I howled with rage.
Gazing too long into a Draugr’s DeathFace drove mortals mad.
Good.
Let them be afraid.
The pull toward the village intensified.
She was close.
Crying?
No. Not yet.
But her emotional state flickered like a candle in wind.
“Go easy on her,” MacLeish said.
I snarled. “You think I could be gentle with the first woman to ignite Bloodlust inside me?”
“She ignited more than that.”
He was right.
And that terrified me more than the hunger.
Because the hunger I understood.
This? This was something else.
The professor’s voice followed me as I leapt from the roof.
“Claim what is yours by right, Raven.”
Claim.
Mine.
Mate.
The words lodged in my throat like broken glass.
I dropped into the shadows of the village, cloaked in magic.
She walked with a group of students—laughing uncertainly, nervous energy radiating from her.
Purple magic flickered faintly around her like distant lightning.
Violet.
Necromantic resonance.
That explained the depth beneath her scent.
She was touched by death.
But she was not death.
I followed at a distance.
Every male who stepped too close drew a low growl from my chest.
They couldn’t see me.
But they felt it.
Even fledgling Monsters understand when apex predators stalk.
Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was thick with old wood, ale, and rune-laced lantern light.
Asgarheim’s ancient stone hummed faintly beneath the floorboards—wards woven through architecture.
I doubled my cloaking magic and settled at a table two down from hers.
And then I felt it.
The dead.
They were moving.
Not toward me.
Toward her.
Spirits gathered like moths.
Poltergeists pressed closer.
Her violet aura pulsed instinctively pushing back magic that brushed against her.
She didn’t even realize she was shielding herself.
Curiosity dragged me nearer.
And then—she said it.
“I see dead people.”
The tavern froze.
Whispers.
“Dark magic.”
“Necromancy.”
She gave them more. Spoke of her past.
And still they reacted predictably—the small-minded fools.
Fear.
Revulsion.
The sadness in her eyes struck deeper than any blade.
She had told the truth.
And she had been punished for it before.
Rage flooded me.
Not hunger.
And with it, a fierce need to defend.
To shield.
To protect.
I watched her flee out the door and before I could follow, the one called Dietrich came to the door as if to chase her.
I moved before thought could stop me. Blocked his path with my bulk and a snarl.
“Back inside,” I growled.
And he paled beautifully.
“Who-who are you?”
“Draugr? That you?” Bench—a Monster I called friend—asked cautiously.
I didn’t bother with explanation.
“Who is she to you? The Necromancer.”
“Aye, is she claimed then, Revenant?” Dietrich asked.
The questions swatted against me like battering rams and I felt my inner beast surge.
My lip pulled back in a snarl that silenced the entire barroom before letting out the one word I never should’ve uttered aloud.
“Mine.”
The word tore free of me like prophecy.
And the Monster inside me howled.
Mine.
The pull sharpened into agony.
I needed to find her.
Introduce myself.
Claim.
Bite.
Drink.
No!
Control.
Control.
“Draugr? Look, Serena didn’t know what she was before she got her letter. Not really,” one of the girls whispered miserably.
“What?”
“She’s out there and has no idea what her magic can do—”
“Or who it might attract,” I finished for her.
I blurred from the tavern, hunting her across Asgarheim.
Fury and concern warred within me.
Fury at myself for not following after her first.
Concern because she was out there right now, alone.
She walked alone.
On this island?
Unprotected.
Fuck. No.
I couldn’t allow that.
Asgarheim was not forgiving to the unwary.
The forests are older than treaties.
The moat is not merely water.
The sea remembers things.
I didn’t need scent.
I just needed to trust the half-formed bond that began the second I became aware of her existence.
It guided me like a compass embedded in bone.
I spotted her and dove down, wings folding as my feet landed on the ground without a sound.
Fuck. She was beautiful.
Serena, her friend had called her.
She stood on the overlook behind the castle.
Wind tore at her hair.
Hell, she was crying.
And tears—gods be damned—fresh tears in Asgarheim are invitations.
Below her, something stirred.
I saw it before she did.
The sluggish monstrosity crawled from the pit towards the tempting sadness of her tears.
Algea.
Pain Daemon.
Minor deity of suffering.
They feast on misery.
And tears glow to them like lanterns.
“Serena!” I roared—and ran.
The name tore from my throat like a war cry, raw and unrestrained, carried on the wind as I closed the distance between us.
She turned.
Too fast.
Too unsteady.
Her boots slipped on the wet stone, and she stumbled backward, eyes wide, fear flashing across her face when she saw me.
Fuck.
Not like this.
“Behind you!” I barked, forcing the words through clenched teeth as I veered toward her.
She hesitated—just for a heartbeat—but instinct won. She twisted, looking over her shoulder—
—and saw it.
The Algea slid forward from the shadows, its elongated body dragging across the stone like something dragged up from the bottom of the sea. Slick, glistening skin stretched too tight over a frame that bent wrong, its jaw unhinging with a wet, snapping sound as it lunged.
Serena’s fear hit the air like a spark to oil.
It flooded everything.
And that—
That was the moment the tide turned.
Something inside me detonated.
Not hunger.
Not control.
Rage.
Pure. Blinding. Absolute.
I spread my wings wide, the storm catching them as I launched forward, using the force of it to propel myself through the air. Stone blurred beneath me. Wind screamed in my ears. The world narrowed to a single point—
Her.
The threat.
The distance between them.
I dropped my wings just before impact, letting momentum carry me the rest of the way as I slammed into the Algea mid-lunge.
I was not the predator.
Not now.
I was something else.
Something worse.
I was a protector.
Her protector.
And gods damn anything that dared come between us.
My claws sank deep into its slick hide, tearing through the unnatural flesh with a satisfying resistance before giving way. The creature shrieked—high, piercing, wrong—and thrashed beneath me, its body whipping violently as black ichor sprayed across the stone.
Serena dropped behind me, falling to her knees, hands clamped over her ears.
Small.
Too small.
Too fragile for this world.
The sight snapped something deeper inside me.
Fury surged again—hotter, sharper—and I wrenched the Daemon upward, muscles straining as I lifted the writhing mass and hurled it toward the cliff’s edge.
It hit hard—skidding, scrambling—
And then it was gone.
Vanishing into the darkness below with a final, echoing screech.
I barely had time to breathe before something slammed into me from the side.
Hard.
Fast.
Vicious.
Of course there was another.
There were always more.
The second Algea struck like a wave breaking against stone, its claws raking across my shoulder as it latched onto me, its weight driving us both across the slick battlements.
Pain flared—bright and immediate—as its talons tore through flesh.
Glorious.
I grinned, baring my fangs as the blood welled—dark, thick, wrong—and the scent of it hit the air.
“Wrong move,” I growled.
The creature hissed in my face, breath rancid, jaws snapping inches from my throat. I twisted sharply, driving my elbow into its skull with enough force to crack bone—or whatever passed for it—before grabbing hold of its neck and slamming it into the stone.
Once.
Twice.
A third time for good measure.
It shrieked again, body writhing as it tried to claw free, its limbs flailing, scraping, searching for purchase.
I gave it none.
“Bloody Daemons,” I snarled, tightening my grip as it thrashed. “You chose the wrong night—”
Its claws raked across my side again, deeper this time, tearing fabric and flesh alike.
Pain blossomed.
Sharp.
Alive.
I laughed.
“—to fuck around with the Draugr.”
I wrenched it upward, ignoring the way it fought, ignoring the tearing of my own wounds as I hauled it off the ground and drove it back toward the edge.
Behind me, Serena’s voice cut through the chaos.
“You’re bleeding!”
Concern.
For me.
The sound hit harder than any blow.
For a split second—just one—something inside me faltered.
Dangerous.
Stupid.
“Get down and stay down!” I shouted.
But I didn’t turn.
Couldn’t.
Because the Algea lunged again, jaws snapping, claws reaching for me.
The battle wasn’t over yet.