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"But I need you."
His gentle smile cracks my heart wide open. "You have me, Tori. My soul is yours. If I must fall to ensure you survive, I'll fall with a smile on my lips." He tips his head down, touching his mouth to my forehead. "I felt my heart beat again today, little Valkyrie. For the first time in two thousand years, I felt it beat."
I sob his name, my heart threatening to break. It shouldn't be possible for him to mean so much already, and yet he does. And yet, if he dies, I'll never forget him. I'll never forgive him, either. He's supposed to live. That's how he protects me, by living.
If we survive this, one way or another, I will figure out how to wield my power. To save this Fae, I'll do whatever I have to do.
I stay behind Reaper as we creep through the woods back toward town, my heart in my throat and tears in my eyes. Terror threatens to choke me.
I hear the whispers of the Forsaken as they spread through the forest, creeping toward town. Every shifting shadow sends my heart into overdrive. But somehow, we make it to the edge of Eitr without running into another Forsaken.
I know Reaper is on high alert as well, but he's calm and collected as always. His lyststål hangs ready at his side, and he moves with a grace that I can only aspire to.
As we approach Eitr, the destruction is overwhelming. Parts of the village are on fire, entire buildings engulfed in flame. Warriors and Forsaken battle in the streets, the Fae desperately trying to defend the people who call this tiny mountain village home.
Reaper stops just before we enter Eitr proper, turning to me. "Remember," he says firmly. "If you see anything that doesn't look right, you run."
I nod, trying to swallow down my fear. "What about you?"
He gives me a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll be right behind you if you have to run."
I take a deep breath, fighting not to cry. He doesn't mean it. We both know he doesn't. If I have to run, it'll be a last resort, because we had no other choice. He'll stay behind to give me time. He'll sacrifice himself to ensure I get to safety.
"My soul and lyststål are yours, little Valkyrie. Always." He touches my cheek and steps out on the path running between buildings.
I choke on a sob.
The chaos is even worse up close. The sound of fighting fills the air, along with screams of terror and pain. Reaper stays right behind me as we navigate the madness of battle. Every step feels like an eternity as we try to make our way through Eitr undetected.
How did I end up in the middle of a battle between Fae and the Forsaken? What do they even want from me? They have my blood. What more could they possibly need?
Eventually, Reaper grabs my arm and pulls me behind a building.
"We're almost there," he says, scanning the area.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
We cut down a small alley, spilling out onto another path. We move slowly, careful not to attract any attention. We're nearly to the Hall of Warriors—at least I assume that's the big building directly ahead of us—when five massive black wolves step into our path, snarling. Like the Forsaken, evil clings to them, pulsing in the air around them. They could pass as wild wolves, except for their eyes. There is no intelligence in them, nothing natural. They're as twisted and monstrous as the Forsaken, and as dangerous. It's as if they were born to hunt and kill, and nothing more.
"Varulv," Reaper growls, planting his feet. "Stay behind me, Valkyrie. Do not let them bite you."
Varulv—I know that word. I heard the Forsaken say it often enough. The wolves belong to them. I cling to Reaper's back as he steps forward, his lyststål spinning in his hands in a deadly blur.
The varulv snarl and bare their sharp fangs, saliva dripping from their jaws.
"Why are they here?" I whisper, my voice trembling with fear.
Reaper doesn't answer as he continues to advance, his gaze locked on the beasts. They circle us slowly, their eyes never leaving us.
One of them lunges forward with lightning speed. Reaper swings his lyststål with precision, slicing through the air. The varulv leaps back with a snarl, narrowly avoiding the lethal blow.
"They're trying to cut us off from the Hall," Reaper finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous.
"What? Why?" I ask breathlessly, though I guess I already know the answer.
Reaper doesn't answer. All five varulv charge us at once. He roars and jumps forward to fight them off. He moves with such grace and precision that it almost looks like a deadly dance. But even with his skill, it's nearly impossible for him to fight off all five monstrous wolves at once.
They attack from all sides, lunging and snapping at him. He no more beats one back before another advances, over and over again. He manages to bring one down and then another, but as he goes in to kill the third, another jumps forward.
