Hergaze captivates me—one eye a mesmerizing arctic blue, the other a molten gold that sets my blood aflame. I find myself lost in their depths, unable to decide which hue draws me in more. My eyes trace the elegant lines of her face, committing every detail to memory. The way her full lips part slightly with each steady breath, releasing small clouds of frost into the frigid air. The delicate curve of her cheekbones, still flushed from battle. The proud set of her jaw, a testament to her warrior's spirit. Every feature is a masterpiece, a perfect blend of beauty and strength that leaves me breathless.
The spell shatters as she shakes her head, shoving me off with enough force to send me sprawling in the blood-stained snow. My body screams in protest as fresh injuries make themselves known.
Bryn rises like an avenging goddess, those dark wings unfurling with deadly poise. "Like I said, I don't need your help." The words drip with disdain before she launches herself back into the carnage, leaving me aching in ways that have nothing to do with my wounds.
The slaughter continues for what feels like hours—steel meeting flesh, bone splintering beneath supernatural strength, the wet sounds of death filling the mountain air. By the time the last troll falls, the snow is stained crimson and black, steam rising from cooling corpses. Warriors move among the fallen, delivering mercy blows where needed, while others begin the grim task of gathering their own dead.
I sink onto a blood-soaked boulder, allowing my body to finally acknowledge its injuries. Ribs knit themselves back together with wet, grinding sounds as I watch her across the battlefield—fierce and untouchable as she issues commands to her fellow Valkyries, seemingly unaware of how completely she's shattered my world.
"What the fuck were those things?" Dani gasps out between ragged breaths, her daggers still dripping black ichor.
Bryn approaches her sister, those magnificent wings folding against her back as she checks Dani for injuries. "Trolls," she states matter-of-factly, wiping gore from her sister's cheek. "We haven't faced an assault of this magnitude in years. Something drew them here."
"Something?" Another Valkyrie spits the word like poison, her raven wings bristling with hostility. Her glare fixes on Dani with the intensity of a blade. "Don't play coy, Bryn. We all know what lures these beasts."
I remain seated, letting my shattered bones finish mending, but tension coils through my body at the Valkyrie's tone. Even Rhyland straightens, his protective instincts flaring.
"What?" Dani's voice is confused as she looks at her sister and the hostile warrior. "What does that mean?"
Bryn's exhale crystallizes in the frigid air. Her eyes are heavy with ancient knowledge. "They're drawn to Christian blood," she reveals, her words hanging in the air like frost.
Danica
29
"Holdup. Christian blood?" I repeat, my stomach clenching. Well, isn't that just wonderful? It looks like I've brought the supernatural equivalent of a neon "eat me" sign to my sister's doorstep in the name of Jesus.
Way to make a stellar first impression, Dani.
"Yes, that would be you, little sister," Bryn confirms, her dual-colored eyes studying me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. Is that a hint of resentment, I see, or just centuries of warrior-honed suspicion? "It's not your fault, though."
She must see the guilt written all over my face because her expression softens a fraction like she's trying to reassure me.
"Pfft, going soft, Bryn?" The angry Valkyrie spits from beside her, clutching her ribs like she's trying to keep her internal organs from spilling. "You know damn well this is all her fault!" She glares at me with enough venom to drop a giant. "I don't give a flying fuck who this girl claims to be—her blood—herfaithis going to get us all killed."
Before I can even process the verbal bitch slap, Bryn moves faster than I can register. One second, Angry McStabby is running her mouth; the next, she's eating snow with Bryn's knife kissing her throat. "That's my sister, you're shit-talkin'," Bryn growls, her voice colder than a White Walker's ballsack. "I suggest you keep your forked tongue behind your teeth unless you want to donate it to my blade collection."
A strained, almost guttural sound pulls my attention to Erik. He's hunched over, arms braced on his knees, and his breathing uneven, as if he's forgotten how to inhale properly. When I follow his gaze, I see him staring at my sister with an intensity that could burn worlds.
Well, that's... interesting. I've never seen Mr. Stoic look at anyone like that before—definitely a first.
Rhyland's arms band around my waist like steel cables, a low growl rumbling through his chest that screams "protective Viking mode: engaged." And okay, I'll admit it—having my man get all caveman on my behalf? Kinda hot, even if I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.
I remember the day my adoptive parents took me to church, where I was baptized in the eyes of the Big Guy Upstairs. I've always believed in a higher power, even if I wasn't sure what flavor of divinity I was dealing with. But deep down? I've been Team Jesus since before I could walk, courtesy of my parents' devout faith. The irony isn't lost on me—the girl with the god complex getting dunked in holy water. If only they knew their precious "miracle baby" would grow into a walking, talking monster magnet.
It's wild—here I am, standing in the realm of Norse gods and monsters, having literally just shared a feast with Odin himself. And it's not just here—every realm so far seems to have its own divine crew. The merfolk in Aquaria bow to Poseidon, the fae have their own celestial court, and human history is packed with gods of every flavor.
But Christianity is woven into the fabric of who I am. It's all I've known and believed in until this cosmic bombshell dropped into my lap. Yet, here I stand. Discovering that my devout upbringing is the supernatural equivalent of ringing the dinner bell for every monster in the neighborhood.
"Yield!" Bryn's shout snaps me back to the present, where she's still got the woman pinned like a bug.
The Valkyrie goes limp, her arms splaying out in the universal sign of "uncle." "I yield," she grits out, sounding like she'd rather chew broken glass.
Bryn stands, but not before giving her fallen opponent a parting shove into the snow. "Let this be a lesson to all of you," she announces, her voice ringing with authority as she surveys the gathered crowd. "No one disrespects my sister, or you'll get a personal introduction to my sword. Are we clear?"
A chorus of nods and murmured assent ripples through the onlookers, everyone suddenly very interested in their boots. Meanwhile, I'm just standing here like a slack-jawed idiot, trying to process the fact that my sister—my actual, blood-related sister—just went full mama bear on my behalf.
I swear, if my heart swells any more, it will pop like an overripe grape.
