Everywhere I look, there are shields decorating walls, spears in racks, and what I'm pretty sure is a drinking horn being passed around by off-duty Valkyries. The whole place screams "warrior paradise."
"Well," I mutter, "looks like I found where the cool kids hang out in Zephyria."
Erik looks like he just walked into a dream. His usually steely expression has softened around the edges, and I swear I can see the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. It's the most relaxed I've ever seen him since Whisper Vale when he basically took over the camp and Fae soldiers like it was his long-lost obsession—something about this place resonates with him deeply. It makes me wonder about his pre-vampire life—what kind of warrior he was before Lilith sank her crazy fangs into him.
Mental note: add "Uncover Erik's mysterious past" to my ever-growing to-do list right after "Survive meeting sister" and "Master being a Savior."
"Shall we? Your sister awaits," Baldr announces with all the enthusiasm of someone about to watch an awkward family reunion unfold.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves tap-dancing in my stomach. It's fine. Totally fine. I'm just about to meet my long-lost sister, who I didn't even know existed until recently—the same sister who was the OG-chosen one before I got the gig. No biggie.
I mean, it's not like I'm worried she's going to take one look at me and wonder how in the hell we share the same cosmic sperm donor. Or she'll resent me for being the "backup savior" who got the powers and the prophecy.
Nope, not at all.
Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I'm low-key terrified. I have no idea what to expect, and that's scarier than facing down a horde of frost giants in my underwear.
Baldr leads us through the camp like he's giving a tour. Warriors and Valkyries eye us with curiosity as we pass—probably wondering who the new kids are and why we're here.
We finally reach another ring where the real action is happening. Two Valkyries are going at it. Their swords clash with enough force to make the air sing. I'm standing there slack-jawed, watching them move with a deadly grace that makes Olympic athletes look like clumsy toddlers.
"Bryn!" Baldr's shout yanks me out of my warrior-woman trance. I follow his gaze and promptly forget how to breathe.
The woman who turns at the sound of her name is a goddamn work of art—my sister. Two thick silvery braids frame her face like some hard-core Viking Pippi Longstocking, with smaller braids woven throughout her crown like a halo of badassery. Her lips are full and pouty, and her skin is golden perfection, just like mine.
But it's her eyes that knock the wind out of me. One is Nordic blue, like a frozen fjord, and the other is a familiar honey-gold that exactly matches mine. It's like looking at an alternate version of myself if I'd spent my life training to be a celestial warrior instead of pipetting DNA samples in a lab.
"Hey, Baldr." Bryn waves back then she spots me, and something flickers across her face—recognition, maybe? Or just curiosity?
Either way, she's heading our way with the confident stride of someone who could probably kill you fifteen different ways without breaking a sweat. Her sword is strapped to her back and every movement screams 'trained killer.'
Well, shit.No one told me my sister would be the Viking version of a supermodel crossed with a Navy SEAL.
As she prowls closer, Erik suddenly erupts into the most dignified coughing fit I've ever witnessed—like he's trying to maintain his sophisticated image while hacking up a lung. I whirl around to find Mr. Stoic looking decidedly un-stoic, his silver eyes wide with what can only be described as carefully contained shock.
"Erik?" I ask because watching our resident master of composure lose his cool is about as rare as seeing Lucian pass up an opportunity for a smart-ass comment.
"Iassure you, it's merely the... unexpected effects of the ward's limitations," he manages between coughs, straightening his spine. But something in those silver eyes screams 'internal crisis in progress.'
When I turn back around, my sister is standing right in front of me, one eyebrow arched in a way that perfectly conveys 'what in the seven realms is this shit?'
Guess the ability to pack volumes of sass into a single look runs in the family.
Great. Not only do I have to navigate this awkward family reunion, but Erik is acting weirder than usual.
Clearly, this situation needs more complications.
"H-Hi," I manage to squeak out, my voice doing that funny thing where it cracks like I'm going through puberty again. Smooth, Dani. Real smooth. I'm sure she's super impressed by your eloquence.
Bryn stares at me, her mismatched eyes assessing my little crew like she's trying to decide if we're friends or foes. Her gaze flicks to Rhyland briefly, probably noting the whole 'built like a brick shithouse' vibe he's got going on before settling on the hot mess that is Erik.
Erik has decided that now is the perfect time to audition for the role of 'least composed vampire in history.' He's currently wearing a path in the snow with his pacing, making these weird little wheezing noises that sound like he's trying to breathe through a straw. So much for that legendary self-control.
"The wards affect magic differently for everyone," Bryn says, her voice cool as a glacier. She nods toward the disaster zone formerly known as Erik. "What's the deal with your friend there? Should I be concerned?"
Isn't this just a stellar first impression? My long-lost sister probably thinks I've brought a bunch of magical misfits to her doorstep—time to do some damage control before she decides to kick us out on our ass.
"Yeah, the whole power-vanishing act caught us off guard," I try to explain, watching Erik have his refined meltdown. "Guess he's just... extra sensitive?" Honestly, I've got no clue what's making Mr. Serious act like he's mainlined a gallon of espresso. Meanwhile, Rhyland's standing there like a mountain in fur and leather, completely unbothered.
