I told them of my travels through far-off lands—of strange customs, wild beasts, and the ways of people so different from us. As I spoke, I hoped they felt as though they had ridden beside me, faced the danger, and shared the glory. I hoped that through my stories, a piece of me would live in them.
I ended with the tale of my final battle—how I had faced the enemy’s second-in-command alone and struck him down with nothing but grit and steel. The children clapped and cheered, and Zara beamed at me, her hand slipping over mine in quiet pride.
“Come now, my darlings,” she said, rising. “It’s getting late.”
“No!” Freya protested, puffing out her cheeks. “More Papa stories! And presents from Papa!”
“In the morning, my sweetheart,” I said with a soft laugh, rising to lift both Freya and Tove into my arms.
Zara gathered the other three, and together, we made our way to the sleeping area—a cozy corner lined with raised platforms covered in thick furs. The children climbed onto their beds, snuggling close like wolf pups, limbs tangled, laughter fading into yawns.
“Are you going away again?” Revna asked, her voice small beneath the fur. “We always miss you when you’re gone.”
“I don’t think so,” I murmured, brushing a hand through her silken curls.
“Goodie!” Astrid exclaimed. “Papa’s staying!”
“For a while,” I said, tucking the blanket beneath her chin.
Once the children lay asleep, Zara and I returned to the main hall. We settled before the hearth, the fire casting light across the fur rug as the warmth wrapped around us like a cloak.
“I’m glad your raid went well,” she said softly, taking my hand.
“It was a good fight,” I replied. “And what did you do while I was away?” I brought her fingers to my lips, kissing them one by one.
She brushed my braids from my face and caressed my jaw. “I missed you. What do you think I did?”
Her words had tenderness, but a shadow lingered beneath it.
“I missed you, too,” I said, tracing a heart on her flushed cheek with my thumb. “But I’m sure you did more than pine for me,” I added with a teasing smile.
“Of course,” she said with a half-laugh. “I tended the sick. Looked after the children. The livestock. The gardens… There’s always too much to do when you’re gone.”
Her smile faltered, and a small frown creased her brow.
I smoothed it with my thumb. “What troubles you, my love?”
She hesitated, then exhaled. “Some of my patients didn’t make it.” A pause. “I had to kill them… and inhale their souls.”
Zara, like me, was a darkness.
Neither of us fully understood the curse we carried—only that it demanded blood. To stay alive, she had to kill. And though she hated it, she found joy in ending the suffering of those beyond saving. She healed who she could. The rest… she guided into the afterlife with mercy cloaked in shadow.
“Don’t carry the guilt,” I told her gently. “We do what we must. You end the pain of those too far gone. You spare them needless misery. I…” I shrugged. “I kill those whose lives aren’t worth living.”
I crawled toward my satchel by the hearth and retrieved the gift I’d brought her, wrapped in supple leather. Returning to her, I cupped it and pressed it to her heart.
Her eyes lit up as she unwrapped the pouch and pulled out a necklace—ruby and moonstone, shimmering together like blood and moonlight. “Oh! It’s beautiful!”
“Allow me,” I murmured, stepping behind her and fastening the delicate gold clasp at the nape of her neck.
But as my fingers brushed her skin, a dark and unbidden vision slammed into my mind. The necklace—this very one—clung to the throat of another woman, a stranger. Her eyes glowed like dying stars, radiating a darkness deeper than Helheim. My breath caught. The image vanished as quickly as it came.
Where did that come from?
I forced the thought away, anchoring myself in the present—Zara, my wife, my shadow and light.
I kissed her neck, reverently, then untied the headscarf she’dwrapped around her honey-gold hair. It spilled down her shoulders like warm silk.
