Unlike Treland, most days in Skalor are overcast, with thick, dark clouds hanging over the land. They had left in mid-morning, and she can only guess through the dreary mist that it is mid-afternoon by the time Calder tugs the reins on his horse, signaling her to slow down.
He still has not revealed their course or his sudden desire to abandon their responsibilities.
Nonetheless, Aura follows suit, dismounting along the forest’s edge.
After tying her reins to the same tree as his, he waves her away from the woods and into the frozen field behind them.
She trudges at his side, craning her neck at the towering evergreens frosted with thick snow. Only the redwoods of Timber could rival the majesty of these wild sentinels.
“Where is our destination?” She finally breaks the silence, dodging a mole hole in the ground before she has a chance to twist her ankle.
His grizzly bear cloak billows around his massive form. “I need you to understand the demons of Skalor.”
Aura follows his cryptic instructions until they crest a hill and see a dramatic view of the far-eastern village of Kaldrgataness Hold.
“By the Gods! Is that?” Her heart thunders as she gapes in disbelief at the reality of where he has led her.
Chillbury.
Calder says nothing, slowing his long strides as she rushes past him, sliding down the hill. She darts toward the village, which is still eerily intact after all these winters.
The abandoned homes and stores hold an uneasy silence as she walks along the overgrown streets filled with discarded ceramic vases, crates, and the swaying of open doors in the light wind.
Once upon a time, the candles would have burned bright as children played in the streets and merchants haggled over wares.
She steps inside a home with metal runes dangling from theporch’s overhang. A central hearth sits cold, and a dusty table is set for four.
Her foot tramples on something discarded by the door. When she crouches, it’s to find a small toy doll. What startles her is the doll’s hair color, which is dark auburn, much like her own.
The reality of the people who lived in the village creeps along her spine.
When she emerges from the home, she confronts a wooden statue of a god dominating the center of town. She circles the uncannily familiar man leaning against a great axe.
“Makt.” Calder’s deep voice jogs her from her thoughts. “How ironic. That Chillbury’s fate should be met as they prepared to celebrate the God of Power.” His cold gaze burns with a fervent disdain. His lip curls as he seems unable to tug away from the god’s depiction.
“Before we venture further.” Calder’s voice halts her as she and the doll prepare to traipse along the final street. “You deserve to know what happened to my wife and son.”
She whirls around to see him still glowering at the statue, his hardened expression reflecting more loathing than she has ever witnessed in the Iss Drengr.
“You will never hear me utter my ex-wife’s traitor name.” He does not glance at Aura. “We met at a Solstice celebration at Nightwall Keep, not long after my dear mother encouraged me to claim Kaldrgataness Hold. I was young and impressionable—senseless and rash in my decision-making. After many nights spent with countless women in Lavinia’s circle, her prized girl caught my attention. We foolishly married within a couple of months. After she became pregnant, I hardly ever saw her. When our son was born, I saw them less and less. Until one day, my mother appeared in Kaldrgataness to request something of me.”
“What did she ask?” Her breathy question is like wind on the fields.
“For my soul. She requires it to leave my body for a darker, more malevolent presence to replace it.”
Even as she considers asking, she knows in her heart the answer before he utters the words.
“Makt needed a body. She wanted me, her only son, to die to become the vessel for a Draemonium.”
She can offer no comfort, only her heart in rapt attention.
“My ex-wife pressured me to accept him as she was a firm worshipper. Except I refused. And when I did, she grew unhinged and attacked me with Freyja. In our struggle, she admitted to offering our son as a sacrifice to Makt in Chillbury. She suffered more than anyone when my ice banished her soul to the Abyss.” Finally, he tears himself away from the statue to look at Aura with so much disgrace that she reaches out and squeezes his hand.
He doesn’t respond.
However, he does not pull away.
“You followed your son to Chillbury?”
