Chapter 9-Draugr
The second Algea hit me, the cliff side trembled.
Its claws were longer than the first’s, curved and slick with spectral ichor.
They tore through my shoulder and raked across bone.
The pain exploded hot and vicious—and I welcomed it.
Pain grounded me.
Pain meant I was not lost in Bloodlust.
The Daemon shrieked, its voice a high-frequency wail that warped the air.
Serena crumpled to her knees again, hands clamped over her ears.
Tears streamed down her cheeks—luminous, bright as silver in the dark.
No.
I could not bear it.
No more tears.
Not here.
“Enough,” I snarled.
My wings snapped outward, knocking the creature back. I seized its wrist mid-swipe and twisted.
The joint cracked with a wet snap.
It screeched and tried to bite, jaw unhinging wider than anatomy allowed.
Behind it—movement.
The third one.
Of course. Algea never travel alone.
I grabbed the injured one and hurled it at its approaching sister.
They collided in a tangle of slick limbs and hatred, shrieking in fury.
“This really is the wrong night to fuck with me,” I growled.
The sky answered.
Lightning fractured overhead, illuminating the overlook in blinding white.
For a heartbeat, Serena saw me fully.
No cloak.
No shadow.
Just my monstrous self.
Horns.
Wings.
DeathFace.
And still—she did not run.
She was terrified.
But she did not flee.
That fact struck deeper than the Daemon’s claws.
The third Algea lunged for me while I was distracted. It’s greedy intentions pushed into my mind.
And they were focused on harming Serena.
Rage tore through me like wildfire.
I heard her scream as the beast launched itself at me.
“Help him!”
And for a moment I wondered if someone else had arrived.
Then I felt it. A sort of energy wave and I moved again, counter attacking faster than thought.
My claws caught its throat mid-air and slammed it into the stone parapet.
Cracks spidered through rune-carved granite.
The wards embedded there flared briefly, reacting to the Daemon’s intrusion.
The Algea spat black mist at my face. I inhaled it by accident—and for half a second—despair.
Raw.
Ancient.
Unfiltered.
The Daemon’s domain flooded my senses.
Misery. Loneliness. Abandonment.
The psychic taste of every human tear shed in forgotten corners of Asgarheim.
It was intoxicating.
My DeathFace surged forward greedily.
Yes.
Drink this instead.
Feed on despair.
Feed on her fear.
No!
I crushed the thought and tightened my grip until the Daemon’s neck snapped like brittle reeds.
It dissolved into foul vapor.
Another was hurled off the side by something—I wasn’t sure what.
And the other was already retreating.
Cowards.
They fed only where prey was easy.
I spread my wings and roared, letting my voice roll across cliffs and forest alike.
Let every minor deity within earshot understand my truth.
She is guarded.
She is not yours.
The last Algea hissed once before slithering over the cliff edge into the black churn below.
Silence followed.
Only storm and breath.
I turned slowly.
Serena was still on her knees.
Shaking.
Weakened somehow.
But alive.
Uninjured.
And I closed my eyes for one moment in gratitude for that one blessed fact.
Thank the gods she did not bleed.
I forced my DeathFace back.
Bone receded. Flesh returned.
Fangs shortened—though not completely. Not yet.
Control.
Slow.
Measured.
Approach.
I crouched several paces away so I would not tower over her.
“Serena.”
Her name tasted different now.
Not scent.
Not hunger.
Something else.
Recognition.
She looked up at me.
And for the first time since I caught her scent—I felt fear.
Not of her.
Of myself.
Her eyes were wide. Dark. Wet with tears and wind.
But beneath the fear, there was calculation. Awareness.
She saw me.
“You—you called my name,” she said hoarsely.
Her voice did not tremble as much as it should have.
“Yes.”
“But how do you know it?”
Because your heartbeat is carved into mine.
Because I imprinted.
Because fate just rewrote my cursed existence.
“I heard it in the halls of the Institute and again at the tavern,” I said instead.
“You were there? I didn’t see you.”
“I was there. I am always there,” I whispered.
Her gaze flicked to my shoulder.
The wounds were already sealing, but dark blood still streaked across my skin.
“You’re hurt.”
I almost laughed.
Draugr do not concern themselves with injury.
And yet, she did.
“It is nothing,” I replied.
The wind shifted again.
And with it—the bond pulsed.
Harder this time.
Not hunger.
Not exactly.
It felt like heat coiling low in my gut.
Desire and yearning. Recognition layered with instinct.
Mate.
The word thundered inside me.
She blinked.
And I felt something strange.
A flicker. As if she had heard the echo of it too.
Impossible.
She was too new. Too untrained.
And yet—her violet aura surged.
The spirits gathering at the edge of the overlook stilled.
They were watching me now.
Me.
As if weighing.
Judging.
Testing.
Serena swallowed.
“What were those things?”
“Algea.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Greek minor deities of suffering,” I clarified. “They feed on misery. Tears.”
Her hands dropped slowly from her face.
“You knew they were coming.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was here.”
The question was quiet.
Careful.
I could lie.
Say coincidence.
Say patrol.
But the bond pulsed again—warning.
Do not lie to her.
“I felt you.”
Her breathing changed.
Not quite fear.
Not quite relief.
“What does that mean?”
Everything.
It means I am no longer alone in this curse.
It means the Norns have shifted their threads.
It means if I fail, you die.
“It means you were in danger.”
Her jaw tightened.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Sharp.
Good.
I preferred that.
I rose slowly to my full height—but kept distance.
“Asgarheim is not gentle to those who wander alone.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched.
Stormlight flickered across the sea.
“You followed me from the tavern,” she said.
Not an accusation.
Observation.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because you are mine.
The Monster pushed forward at the thought.
Claim.
Bite.
Mark.
I forced it back.
“You are new,” I said carefully. “And powerful.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“I don’t feel powerful.”
“You do not need to feel it for it to be true.”
Her gaze shifted briefly to the cliff where the Daemon vanished.
“I didn’t know those things existed.”
“You will learn.”
Her eyes lifted back to mine.
“You said my name like you knew it.”
I did.
On a level deeper than sound.
The wind pressed between us.
Her scent curled around me again.
Earth.
Rain.
Grave soil warmed by spring.
It did not make my hunger flare wildly anymore.
It sharpened it.
Refined it.
Focused.
On her.
This was more dangerous than chaos.
This was precision.
“I should return you to the Institute,” I said.
“To safety?”
“To wards.”
She pushed herself upright slowly.
She was shorter than me by nearly a head.
And yet she did not shrink.
“You think I can’t protect myself?”
The question carried a thread of wounded pride.
“I think you do not yet understand what hunts in this realm.”
A pause.
“Teach me.”
The words hit harder than the Daemon’s claws.
Teach me.
No one had ever asked that of me without fear.
See, I was always the lesson.
The warning.
The thing students studied in Advanced Dark Magic Defense classes.
“You would trust me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
She held my gaze.
And gods help me—she did not look away.
“You saved me.”
That was enough for her.
It should not have been enough for me.
And yet—something in my chest shifted.
Not hunger.
Not rage.
Something older.
Raven.
The boy who once believed he could be more than a curse.
The bond pulsed again.
Stronger.
For a heartbeat—I felt something that was not mine.
Confusion.
Loneliness.
A lifetime of hiding.
It came from her.
And then it was gone.
I staggered half a step.
She noticed.
“What was that?”
“You felt it too,” I breathed.
Her expression tightened.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Lie.
She had felt it.
The bleed.
The beginning of a thread forming.
The Norns were weaving.
And I was not prepared.
Not ready.
Not safe.
If I bonded?
If I failed?
My hunger would not spare her.
The DeathFace twitched beneath my skin at the thought.
No.
I would not fail.
I could not.
I stepped back deliberately.
“We return now.”
Her chin lifted.
“You still haven’t told me your name.”
I hesitated.
Names have power.
Raven belonged to the boy.
Draugr belonged to the Monster.
Which was I?
“Draugr,” I said at last.
Her lips parted.
“That’s a title.”
“Yes.”
“And before that?”
The question cut deeper than she knew.
I held her gaze.
I could not lie to her.
“Raven.”
“Raven, then.”
She repeated it softly.
Testing it.
The sound did something violent to my restraint.
Claim.
The Monster surged.
I turned sharply away before instinct overtook thought.
“Stay close.”
She followed without protest.
As we walked back toward the castle’s looming silhouette, rune-lights flickered to life along parapets and towers.
The architecture of Asgarheim Runevald Institute rose like a gothic cathedral carved from storm and shadow.
Ancient stone.
Flying buttresses.
Spired towers etched with defensive sigils.
Knowledge and danger entwined.
Students did not realize how thin the wards were beyond these walls.
Serena walked slightly behind me.
Close enough that I could hear her breathing.
Close enough that the bond hummed like a live wire.
“You said those things feed on misery,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“What do you feed on?”
The question froze the air between us.
I did not answer immediately.
Because the truth was ugly.
“Blood,” I said finally.
She did not flinch.
“Human?”
“Sometimes.”
Silence again.
“And me?”
The question was not fearful.
It was steady.
Testing.
I stopped walking.
Turned.
Looked at her fully.
The hunger stirred.
Not wild.
Not uncontrollable.
But present.
Always present.
“I would rather starve than harm you.”
The vow left my mouth before I could reconsider it.
And once spoken—it bound.
The bond surged violently in response.
Heat exploded through my chest.
She gasped.
Clutched at her sternum.
“Do not make promises you do not understand,” she whispered.
I stared at her.
“What did you feel, Serena?”
“Like something tightened.”
Yes.
The thread.
The weave.
The Norns had begun.
The Institute gates loomed ahead.
Wards glowed faintly along the archway.
Safe.
For now.
I stopped just before crossing the threshold.
If I entered too close—the bond might snap fully into place.
And I was not ready.
“Go inside,” I said.
She hesitated.
“You’re not coming?”
“Soon.”
She studied me one long moment.
Then—she nodded.
And stepped through the wards.
The moment she crossed, the thread stretched.
Pain lanced through my chest.
Not hunger.
Separation.
I exhaled slowly.
Storm clouds rolled overhead once more.
The sea churned below.
And for the first time in centuries—I was afraid.
Not of Bloodlust.
Not of battle.
Not of my father.
I was afraid of hope.
Because if Serena was truly mine—then the Norns had finally moved.
And fate does not give gifts freely.
It demands payment.
And when she stumbled in the hallway, I knew I was about to pay it.