“You must be Freyr. Ironic that the God of Stability produces such unstable children.” His gaze lands on Aura’s shrouded body on the altar. “Where is Makt?”
“Follow the path to the bridge,” Freyr gestures, where the trail winds through the forest. “Do not stray,” he scratches behind the Ulv’s ears. “Fren, here, is not the only Ulv lurking in the woods. Just the one who nearly ripped apart your girl’s parents.”
Calder grunts, hoping not to face off against more demonic creatures.
“Be wary, Iss Drengr. Makt has been denied entry to the rest of the realm.”
How is that possible?
“He is a real delight while angry.”
“I do not fear him.” Calder moves around the altar, keeping his gaze focused on them.
“No need to concern yourself here.” Freyr waves his disturbingly mutilated arm over Aura. “The King of the Abyss has yet to admit her soul fully.”
Rendel rips the fabric from the figure, revealing the Princess in a thin, white nightgown, not unlike the attire she wore in Nightwall Keep. She stretches out with her eyelids closed as if she is sleeping rather than a corpse awaiting burial.
Calder covers the top of her lukewarm hand. “If harm befalls her, you will all know true suffering.” His feral growl is inhuman.
Freyr raps his knuckles along the stone. “Yes, yes, and you shall dismantle the world, blah blah blah. The Sigvidsson brat is safe. Her soul is in limbo per the God of Death, the King of the Abyss.”
I will return for you, my love.
“The King suffers your presence in his domain because he finds you amusing.” Freyr drags his middle finger across the top of the stone altar. “In the unlikely event that you defeat the mightiest god in the pantheon, you still must answer tohim.”
“I answer to no one.” Since his conception, all the gods turned away from him through no fault of his own.
He happily returns the favor.
“I now understand why Sigvid took you under his wing.” Thrain’s condescending smirk is punchable, even in death. “My brother may have forged a shaky alliance with you, Iss Drengr, but that doesn’t mean you’re fit for kingship, even if you and my niece manage to survive this.”
I will have endured the Abyss for Aura. Surely, Sigvid cannot deny me that.
Rendel scoffs as he leans against the altar with his arms crossed. “That barbarian respects only violence. Avardsson is in the right company.” He stalks until he stands beside Aura’s head. “A sentiment I shall offer the Beast’s daughter should you fail to defeat Makt.”
“I will not fail.”
Rendel’s dark eyes shimmer with an unsettling intensity. “I require you to deliver a message to Avina and Sigrid-”
“Sigvid!” Thrain sighs as if he, too, is frustrated with his spiritual brother.
“That bitch failed to deliver me an heir to unite Treland on purpose and colluded with Sigvid to murder me.”
Thrain flashes him an unamused glance.
“All the souls the Beast delivered to the Abyss over the years would love a turn on his precious daughter. Know that if you fail or the King of the Abyss forces you to return alone, I will pass her body to every enemy you or he has ever condemned here.” He reaches for her face, but Freyr slaps him away.
“Calm yourself, Rendel.” Freyr spits. “The God of Death made it clear she is untouchable.”
“You will find the name Sigvid Thordsson does not inspire manydown here.” Thrain leans along the edge of the altar. “Neither does Calder Avardsson.”
“I answer to no god.” He rests the axe head on the ground, unsure if he wishes to leave her with this slimy troop.
As if sensing his thoughts, Freyr laughs, shaking his head. “The Master of the Underworld, the King of the Abyss, charges us to observe Aura’s state until your conflict with Makt concludes. We are forbidden to touch her on pain of eternal sleep.”
Calder shudders at the thought of ‘eternal sleep.’ However, he couldn’t have picked a worse trio to shield the love of his life. He grunts in agreement before pushing through the fog and trudging through the forest.
An eerie silence haunts his steps, leaving his ears ringing. Even as his boots crunch through the powder, he senses that someone or something is tracking his progress. However, his instincts beg him not to glance over his shoulder.
