Before she could pull back, his fist hammered into her shoulder. A sharpcrackechoed through the air, and she went sprawling onto the frozen ground. Pain flared bright through her arm, but she gritted her teeth, rolled aside, and glanced over her shoulder.
The leader paused, inspecting the blade buried deep in his side. With a guttural roar, he yanked it free and staggered, dark blood staining the pristine snow at his feet.
Yet he remained upright.
Katell’s smirk faltered. She had expected him to crumple under the weight of a mortal wound. She was certain her blade had hit something vital. But instead, the commander—though struggling for breath—grinned back at her.
His laughter boomed through the forest. Katell forced herself to her feet, heart racing.
“You think this small blade will kill me?” he sneered, lifting his chain mail to reveal the bloody gash on his side. The wound began to close, pale skin knitting itself back together with unnatural speed—just as Katell’s shattered shoulder was painfully resetting. “You’ll need to do better than that.”
Katell stared, breath catching. Shock rippled through her. She’d never seen another heal like she could.
“How… how did you do that?” she asked, her voice shaking despite herself.
The giant studied her for a long moment before replying, “I am a descendant of the Blind One.”
His words sent a chill down her spine. A descendant of a god? She’d only heard such things in myth and legend.
Without warning, he charged again, swinging his axe with deadly force. The curved blade caught hers, and with atriumphant grin, he twisted. Steel bit into her arm, drawing blood.
Katell hissed, pain flaring. She summoned her magic and shoved with all her strength, forcing the giant back. He staggered, then let out a booming laugh.
“I see you are just like me.” He nodded at the cut in her arm that was already mending itself.
“I’m nothing like you!” Katell snarled, chest heaving.
“Do not lie. You have immortal blood in your veins.”
Katell went still. She met his gaze, unblinking. “No—it’s my Gift.”
“It is not a Gift,” he said, circling her. Despite his size, his steps were silent on the thin layer of snow. “It is who you are.”
She dodged his next blow, heart hammering. “What do you mean?”
He halted, breath fogging the space between them. Overhead, wind stirred the pines, shaking loose a soft flurry of snow.
“You are a demigoddess.”
Flashes of old tales raced through her mind—Damocles’ voice beside the fire, recounting stories of Achaean heroes, half-mortal children of gods who walked among men.
She shoved the memory aside.
“You’re lying,” she snapped, anger flaring, fuelled by the Tears. How dare he take her for a fool? She’d make him regret it just as she had every warrior who’d underestimated her.
“Demigods are myths. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it won’t work on me.”
The Northerner spat blood into the snow, eyes narrowing. “Are the Rasennan cowards so ignorant they do not even understand their own gods?”
The mocking smile twisting his weathered face ignited her fury.
“I’m not Rasennan. I?—”
“Then why are you here?!” he bellowed, swinging his axe with renewed ferocity.
His attacks grew wild and fast. Katell parried, arms straining beneath the blows, her boots skidding across the ice-slick ground. He moved with the wrath of something more than mortal, relentless and towering.
“How can you fight with your heart when you do not even know who you are? How can you fight in a war when you do not know why you are here?”
