Then the tavern door groaned open, the hinges shrieking as rusted iron dragged across the stone. I turned, expecting to see Leif or Bjorn stumbling in from the cold.
Instead, Zara stepped through the doorway.
Her golden hair cascaded around her shoulders, wild and unbound, and the firelight danced along the curves of her body beneath a tight-fitting dress that left very little to the imagination. Her presence silenced the table for a moment, then set it ablaze again with lustful whistles and half-drunken howls.
“Where are the other wives?” Ivar rumbled with a grin.
“Where are thewhores?” Thorstein added, earning a round of raucous laughter from the men.
Everyone laughed—everyone but me.
I shot to my feet, heart slamming in my chest as I rushed to her side. “What’s wrong? Are the children alright?”
Zara placed a warm palm against my cheek. Her smile was soft, but her eyes gleamed with something darker.
“Relax, love,” she said. “I did as you suggested. Håkon agreed to watch over the girls.” She leaned in, her breath brushing my ear. “I thought we could share one last kill before you depart.”
My gaze shifted to my men—faces once drunken and carefree, now subtly keen with interest. Would they piece things together when another body turned up tomorrow? Then again, most would be too hungover to remember their names, let alone connect any dots. By morning, we’d all be marching toward the ship moored at Havenshield’s fjord, half-dead from drink.
I forced a grin and threw an arm around her shoulders, keeping the tension from my voice. “Ale-keeper!” I called. “Your strongest brew—for the mostspecialof nights!”
Cheers erupted once again, the men easily distracted by drink and noise.
Hours passed in a haze of laughter and spilled ale. When more than half the warriors had slumped over the table in a stupor, Zara and I quietly rose. I offered a few slurred goodbyes to those still upright. They lifted their mugs in lazy farewells, too dazed to ask questions.
Outside, the cold night air met us like a slap of ice. I kept the smile on my face, letting it mask the hunger rising in my chest.
Together, we slipped into the shadows of the village.
And with every step through the fog-laced streets, we hunted.
We found our sustenance among the travelers—those who’d docked on the shores of Havenshield, hoping for warmth, not knowing the night itself had teeth.
We consumed souls until we were sated and the hunger quieted. I helped Zara onto my horse, and she leaned against my back as we rode through the sleeping village, the hooves thudding softly beneath a sky freckled with stars. A rare sense of peace settled over me, unexpected but welcome.
Despite my earlier resistance to her, I was grateful for this night, for the closeness, the bond forged anew in blood. Zara was everything to me—my soulmate, my wife, the mother of my children. We were bound by something darker than love, something older than fate. Sometimes, that darkness turned inward, and we’d unleash it on each other in wild, frenzied passion. But the question always haunted us—What are we? Why do we exist?
We were not human.
That much I knew.
The longhouse came into view as dread surged like ice in my veins.
Then Zara screamed.
Thick smoke belched from the broken windows. Flames licked the walls like serpents’ tongues, devouring the home we had built, room by sacred room. The stench of scorched timber hit me like a fist.
I spurred the horse forward, heart pounding, a cry of rage choking in my throat.
We leaped from the saddle as we reached the yard.
Håkon lay sprawled in the grass, an arrow buried deep in his chest. His lifeless eyes stared up at the stars, wide and unblinking, as though he’d seen death coming and accepted it in silence.
Raiders from a rival clan—faces I recognized, men I had once fought beside and later against—rushed from the burning wreckage, their arms full of our supplies, food, and life.
I didn’t think. Imoved.
I tore the dagger from my waistband and drove it into the chest of the nearest man before he could react. He gasped, choking on blood, and fell.
