I pull my wrist back. Bryn's tongue darts out, catching a stray drop of blood at the corner of her mouth. The sight sends heat rushing south.
"Well," she drawls, a familiar smirk tugging at her lips, "I was expecting Jörmungandr's rotting scales, but that wasn't half bad."
The laugh that bursts frommy chest feels foreign, rusty with disuse. When was the last time I found genuine amusement in anything? But Bryn's morbid humor, even in the face of death, is so quintessentiallyherthat I can't help but be charmed.
"Only you," I manage through the unfamiliar sensation of laughter, "would compare my ancient blood to a giant snake's ass."
She sits up, testing her limbs gingerly. The ice is gone, not even a trace of frostbite marring her skin. Only the rips in her clothing and the drying blood suggest she was even injured.
"Suppose I should thank you," she says, but there's no bite to her words. "Though if you tell anyone a vampire had to save my ass, I'll deny it to Odin himself."
I shake my head, marvel at the complex creature before me—fierce and fragile, stubborn and vulnerable, a walking contradiction that somehow slipped past my defenses.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I assure her, helping her to her feet. "Your secret's safe with me, little bird."
Danica
57
Skadi rises from her frozen throne, vast wings unfurling like shattered obsidian. Half her face gleams with frost, the other twisted in a cruel smirk. Her Valkyrie armor, once golden, now dulled and corroded, hangs in tatters from her towering frame. One eye glows that sickly blue while the other remains pure shadow.
"Look at the little savior," she croons, voice like cracking ice. "Tell me, do you still hear your parents' screams? The sound of wolves tearing them apart because of what you are?"
The memory slams into me—my parents' bloody, torn up bodies. All because Rhyland killed that pack protecting me, and Azrael wanted revenge.
"Shut up," I snarl, summoning angel fire as the first wave of frozen warriors lurch forward.
"Such spirit." Skadi's wings create hurricane winds. "Like John had, before that wolf snapped his neck. Another death on your conscience."
Sweet, protective John. My heart aches as memories of my former boss at Playful Pint flood back—his kind smile, his dad jokes, the way he looked out for all of us like we were family. But those warm memories shatter against the horror of his final moments—his terrified eyes meeting mine as he tried to save me, that awful sound I'll never forget, my own screams echoing uselessly in my ears as I watched him fall...
A dead Viking's blade snaps me back. I bend backwards, time slowing as I arch under his swing. My daggers find gaps in ancient armor, shattering frozen flesh—the Aquanite stone pulses, connecting me to every frozen particle in the chamber.
I reach out with my power, feeling the crystalline structure of the frozen warriors. With a twist of my will, their icy forms crack and splinter from within.
"Dance for me, little savior." Skadi's laughter echoes as more warriors emerge. "Like Adrian danced when his heart was ripped out. Another lost protecting you."
Adrian's death hits my heart like shrapnel. But I channel the pain, letting the Aquanite's power flow through me. The chamber walls respond, ice spears erupting to impale approaching warriors while others dissolve into water at my command, their frozen forms melting and reforming as deadly weapons.
Across the chamber, Rhyland is raw power incarnate. His telekinesis sends corpses shattering against walls, their frozen bodies exploding into crystalline shards. But more keep coming.
"Even your brother," Skadi taunts. "Forced into darkness because of your blood. How many more will fall protecting the precious savior?"
"ENOUGH!" My scream releases a wave of pure light, disintegrating a dozen warriors. Time bends to my will as I flow between the remaining attackers. My daggers sing, finding killing blows while angel fire consumes anything that gets too close. Ice walls rise and fall at my command, crushing enemies while frozen spikes erupt from the ground to skewer others.
"Poor cursed girl," Skadi sighs dramatically. "Death follows you like a shadow. How long before your Viking joins the list?"
"DANI!" Rhyland's voice thunders through the chamber, that alpha-male command that usually makes me want to roll my eyes. But right now, as he slams two warriors into the wall with bone-crushing force, that voice is my anchor. "Block her out and focus on me. Feel our bond."
The sound of ice shattering follows another warrior's demise under his fist. His power pulses through our bond, fierce and protective as he roars, "You're stronger than her games, Angel. Now fight!"
And damn if that voice doesn't light a fire in my blood.
Ice and fire spiral around me as rage ignites in my chest. The chamber becomes a blur of spinning blades and exploding corpses. Each taunt fuels my fury, not because I'm helpless—I've never been helpless. But every death, every loss, every sacrifice made in my name weighs on my soul like a mountain of guilt.
"You want to play mind games?" I snarl, power crackling around me like a storm. "Game fucking on."
A horrific crack splinters the air. My heart stops as Rhyland's agonized scream tears through me. Time slows as I spin to see him—a giant wooden beam protruding from his chest, blood darkening his shirt. His ocean eyes meet mine, wide with shock.
