Steel glints in the corner of my vision as the others tense.
"No more riddles. No more detours." I press him harder into the wood. "Can you save her or not?"
"Maybe," he says, not struggling.
"No more tricks," Hrolf says firmly, moving to stand beside me. "His wife is dying. We're running out of time."
"You think I went there just to say goodbye?" he asks quietly.
I tighten my hold.
"If you mean to help her, say so plainly."
Landon exhales through his nose, almost impatient.
"I gathered what I said I would." He reaches slowly into the pouch at his belt and withdraws a small bundle wrapped in dark leaves. Even crushed, the herb gives off a metallic, bitter scent. "Bloodroot of the deep hollow. It slows the spilling. Forces blood to clot."
He looks between us.
"I do not lie."
Hrolf's jaw tightens but he nods once. "A blood debt is sacred," he says. "You owe me your life. I call it in now—to save hers."
Landon nods slowly. "Very well. I understand. Take me to her."
I release him and step back. I call on Coinneach's power, feeling my familiar respond instantly. Shadows gather and twist, forming a portal in the air.
The portal opens. A slit in the world, pulsing with darkness and possibility.
Landon goes rigid, staring at the shadow portal. "That's one of the Ysendrals."
"He's one of the ancients," I confirm. "Bound to me."
"You have an Ysendral bound to you?" Landon's breath hitches. His gaze shifts to me with new wariness and what might be fear. "How is that possible? They were sealed away in Astefar."
"Save your questions for later."
“Dorcha, my wyvern. I do not travel without her,” he says evenly. "She is bonded to me."
"I am not waiting while you indulge sentiment." My patience thins to a wire.
He meets my stare without flinching.
"It is not sentiment." His voice sharpens slightly.
Before I can drag him toward the portal by force, he continues.
"I also require my equipment," he says. "I need proper surgical instruments. Medicines and binding agents. If I am to attempt this, I will not do it with crude guesswork."
He gestures toward the treeline. "We will reach Völundr shortly on Dorcha's back."
"A wyvern in Völundr?" Garrett protests. "The people will panic."
"Let them," I say. Whatever the price of her survival, I will pay it. "Go through the portal. Warn them we're coming. Clear the square and prepare the healing house."
Aelfric nods once, already turning. Garrett hesitates only a fraction of a second before following. They step through the portal in quick succession.
Hrolf lingers. His gaze moves between Landon and me.
