Freya screamed, lifting her hands as raw energy surged through her veins and burst outward in a blazing shockwave, slamming into the witches and warlocks like a tidal wave of pure force. One by one they collapsed, their bodies strewn across the snow, unconscious before they even touched the ground.
She did not hesitate.
She snatched up her sword and sprinted for Ylva’s side.
‘What…’ Ylva’s wide, ocean-blue eyes darted from Freya to the fallen witches, disbelief etched across her features. ‘How did you…’
Freya grabbed her wrist and pulled. ‘No time. Run.’
In an instant, the shock melted from Ylva’s face. The soldier,the valkyrian, returned, her expression sharpening into iron focus. She nodded once, raising her bow again as they fled, tearing through the forest, over the scorched fields where the village still burnt, and into the shadows of the next wood where their winged horses waited.
They mounted without slowing.
‘We need to hide,’ Freya said, spurring her beast into a gallop.
And together, the two valkyrians vanished into the depths of the forest, shadows swallowed by shadow.
When my son vanished after I hid him away in desperation, hoping to shield him from the bloodshed, I knew in my bones that Hades had taken him. And though I’ve since learnt he was taken to the land of the Fae, one question continues to haunt me: why there? Why not any other realm?
And then another thought coils through my mind like smoke.
Hades is bound to Persephone, queen of the Underworld but also the silent architect of the Fae and their shimmering, beguiling lands.
And so I ask myself, not for the first time…
Was it truly Hades who stole my son from me?
Or was ither?
Tabitha Wysteria
They were nearing the borders of the Kingdom of Ice, the wind already carrying the faint chill of distant snows. The party had pressed on without rest, but now, at last, the princess had given the order to make camp, granting them a few precious hours of sleep before venturing into wolverian lands.
Arden crouched low, coaxing life into a small fire until it roared bright enough to stand against the night. Across from him, Kage Blackburn sat in utter silence, his back pressed against the flank of the great wolf who served as his steadfastcompanion, while the shadow crow roosted high above on a branch, unblinking eyes fixed on its master like an ebony sentinel.
‘I know how to make a fire,’ Kage said, his tone cool as the wind beyond the treeline.
Arden smiled faintly, sparks dancing in his eyes to match the flame. ‘You could always just say you’re welcome,’ he replied, crouching by the warmth to ensure the fire would endure the night’s breath. Then, rummaging through his satchel, he produced a small pouch and tossed it into Kage’s lap.
The prince of shadows regarded it with a frown but did not open it, instead lifting those depthless dark eyes to fix on Arden.
‘It’s food,’ Arden explained easily. ‘Rotten food, actually. I’ve been keeping fruit in there just in case… well, in case you couldn’t hunt or we found ourselves starving.’
Kage’s face betrayed nothing, a mask as inscrutable as stone.
‘You could always just say thank you,’ Arden teased, a crooked grin tugging at his lips as he stood to leave. But he had barely turned on his heel before Kage’s voice, quiet yet resonant, drifted across the fire.
‘Thank you.’
Arden’s grin widened, wicked delight dancing across his features as he looked back. ‘Ah, I knew you had it in you.’ The sight of Kage’s barely perceptible scowl only deepened his amusement. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘No, no, don’t worry. There’s no need to beg,’ Arden said, dropping himself onto the ground with theatrical ease and a soft laugh.
Kage’s eyes narrowed, though he said nothing.
‘I know you were dying to ask me to stay,’ Arden continued, resting back on his hands.
