"Running away?" Ice edges my voice as I feel her pull back. "That's not like you, little bird."
"Don't." She straightens her disheveled shirt, but her hands shake. "Don't call me that. This isn't—we aren't—" She releases a frustrated breath. "Once you have the stone, you'll return to Midgard. Your duty lies with Dani, with protecting the savior."
"And what about my duty to you?" I step closer, but she backs away. "To us?"
"There is no us!" Her wing flares defensively, but I catch the pain in her dual-colored eyes. "I'm bound to Zephyria. This is my home, my purpose. I can't just abandon everything I've built here."
"Then I'll stay." The words escape before I can stop them. "If Zephyria is where you need to be—"
"No." Her voice cracks. "My sister needs you. The realms need you. I won't be the reason you abandon your post." She lifts her chin, but I see the tremor in her jaw. "I'm a broken Valkyrie who can barely fly. What could I possibly offer—"
"Everything." I catch her wrist, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers. "You offer me everything. And if you think I'm letting you go because of duty or distance or your own damned stubbornness—"
"Let me go, Erik." But she doesn't pull away, her body betraying her words.
"Never." I draw her closer despite her resistance. "We'll find a way. Between realms, between duties. But don't stand there and tell me you feel nothing when every beat of your heart screams otherwise."
"You don't understand," Bryn wrenches her wrist free. "I can't be what you need. I won't be." Her wing wraps around her like armor. "I've spent centuries building my life here, my reputation. I won't throw that away for some... some magical bond thatclaimswe're meant to be together."
The word 'claims' cuts deeper than any blade. "This isn't just some spell, Bryn. You feel it too—"
"What I feel is irrelevant." Ice crystallizes in her voice. "I've survived this long without a mate. I don't need one now, especially not a vampire who can't even protect my own sister without help."
The deliberate cruelty of her words strikes hard. My hands fall to my sides as something vital shatters in my chest. "Bryn—"
"Go back to your duties, Erik." She turns away, her wing trembling despite her harsh tone. "And I'll go back to mine. It's better this way."
She turns, boots clicking against stone as she strides away. Each step echoes like a death knell in my chest.
My knees give out the moment she's gone. I slam a fist into the stable floor, stone crumbling beneath my knuckles. Each breath feels like swallowing glass, the mate bond screaming in agony at her rejection. The pain is unbearable—a crushing weight that threatens to collapse my ribs and tear my heart from my chest.
I press my forehead to the cool stone as I fight for control. But how do you control this? This soul-deep devastation that comes from having your other half look you in the eye and choose to walk away?
A sound escapes my throat—something between a growl and a sob. The stable walls press in, every shadow a reminder of her absence. Even Gullfax has fallen silent as if the stallion senses the breaking of something fundamental.
Let the shadows take me. Let oblivion claim what's left of my cursed existence. Without her, there's nothing but darkness ahead.
Lucian
42
"Yeah, all we know is she yanked some vampire soul through the cosmic glory hole. I'll keep the council in the loop if I hear anything else that doesn't make me want to kill myself," I tell Alaric before yeeting my phone across the couch.
I'm exhausted, freaking out, and playing supernatural detective with zero fucking clues about what Demon Barbie is planning. If she's strutting her evil ass around Oregon, my money's on the Citadel—you know, Rhyland and Erik's old bachelor pad before this whole Dark Prophecy shit show decided to crash the party.
It's the only location that makes sense, really. Last we heard, the place was emptier than my liquor cabinet after a bad day. Perfect spot for Lilith's bougie ass to set up her evil lair. Probably already redecorating with expensive shit and whatever passes for furniture in Hell's IKEA.
Fucking typical.
Sable's been burning the midnight oil trying to MacGyver some magical smoke signals to Dani, but so far? Zip. Nada. Bupkis.
At this rate, I'd have better luck trying to reach her through a goddamn Ouija board. Or maybe I should stick to the old-fashioned method of screaming into the void and hoping for the best.
Meanwhile, Emily and Tall, Dark, and Shape-shifty have been getting way too buddy-buddy for my comfort, if you catch my drift.
Just... ugh. Pass the brain bleach, please.
Watching a demon play cosmic cosplay is not how I wanted to spend my week.
