She was out here somewhere. She had to be.
And I refused to stop searching.
Because if I lost her too, I would have nothing left but darkness.
Up ahead, a Timehunter emerged through the curtain of snow, his silhouette wraithlike against the pale light of winter’s dawn. His eyes seared with feral intent as he lunged, blade flashing like ice-caught fire.
Steel met steel with a vicious clang, the ring of metal echoing through the blizzard. I parried his strikes, each blow vibrating through my bones, each dodge driven by adrenaline and animal instinct. My muscles strained, and my breath came in puffs of smoke.
Then I saw an opening.
I drove my dagger into his chest. A wet gasp tore from his throat. His eyes went wide, shocked, uncomprehending, before his body crumpled into the snow, lifeless.
Blood and sweat hung thick in the frozen air as I stood over him, victorious.
Yet hollow.
Haunted.
Fueled by fury, I cut down every bloody Timehunter I encountered—executing them with surgical rage. No hesitation. No mercy. Then I leaped onto my horse and charged into the village like a storm unbound.
My children had been slaughtered. My home burned. My legacy was violated.
Someone had betrayed me.
Was it one of my warriors, bitter and envious of my power? One of their wives, jealous and resentful of Zara? Or perhaps the villagers—starving, desperate, and willing to sell me out for coin or safety?
My rage was blinding. Consuming.
And it demanded blood.
I let my fury lead the way. I stormed into the homes of my people and unleashed carnage upon them. One by one, I cut them down. Screams filled the air. Begging. Crying. None of it mattered.
There would be no raid tomorrow. No alliance. No glory.
Only bodies.
Only vengeance.
The village was a graveyard soaked in blood by the time the sun rose. I rode home spattered in crimson, the cold wind lashing at my face, my heart numb with fury and grief.
But what I saw as I approached the smoldering remains of our home nearly shattered me again.
Zara stood in the clearing beside a man I had never seen before.
He radiated power—raw and magnetic. It rolled off him like thunderclouds, ready to break. Tall, striking, imperious. He looked down at Zara with familiarity, and she didn’t move away.
Rage surged anew.
I leaped from my horse, blood still dripping from my armor, and stormed toward him.
Without warning, I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him away from her. “Get the fuck away from my wife!” I snarled, my voice like gravel and fire. “Leave now—or die where you stand!”
The man stumbled back but caught himself, eyes steady, unshaken.
“Balthazar, wait!” Zara cried, her voice breaking. “He’shere to help!”
I whirled to face her, rage still pulsing like a war drum in my ears. My children were dead—our children—and all I could see was her. The one who left. The one who wasn’t there when they needed her most.
