The man hissed, clutching his chest as if a blade had burrowed its way into his sternum. His scarred, bloody fingers massaged the spot, and he cursed in a foreign language under his breath, looking to the sky and then back at her.
Something hardened in his features, narrowing his eyes.
Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his axe, his jaw ticking. His eyes flicked from Alruna to her and back again. Soft vibrations rumbled through her fingers as Alruna purred.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and Elara froze, a cold prickle chasing itself along her nape.
No.
It was impossible. No one could see Alruna beside her.
No. No. No. No.
The vision from her dreams slammed into her in a dizzying rush, making her knees buckle. Those mercurial, multicolored eyes were his eyes. Shadows crawled along his chiseled back, making him gleam like the vision from her dreams.
It couldn’t be this. It couldn’t be real.
Heavy feet pounded into the dirt, the man moving closer, eating up the last of the space between them. A thick cloud of cedar and leather wafted from him, and she hated how pleasant it was.
Hated him.
Hated this moment.
An arm wrapped around her waist, her father trying to protect her, pulling her back into his chest. But it was too late.
Nothing could save her from this moment. Destiny. Fate. Whatever nightmare led to this. Led to him. Her visions had warned her of this, of him.
Only at the time, she hadn’t realized he was to be her executioner. Some lonely, barren part of her hoped it was a visage of someone who could love her as she was.
Love her despite the dreams and the sparks.
How naïve she’d been.
And how horribly wrong.
Feeding off her fear, the draugar stirred, their rumbling laughter whispering in her ears. She covered them, shaking her head.
“Father falls. Mother fades. Brother suffers. You wove this fate. Open the path, Seiðkona. Let us claim you.”
Alruna snarled, the sound piercing the distant screams. Her hackles rose. Her shoulders rounded as her glittering eyes melted into pure gold, warding off the voices until they were quiet once more.
Something shifted in the air around them. It was no longer stagnant with warning. Instead, it was warm and hushed, crackling like an impending storm.
The demon ran a hand through his rust-colored beard, his expression giving nothing away as he watched Alruna with too much curiosity.
Eventually, he spoke, the deep, accented voice infesting the depths of her soul.
“Anything?” he asked.
A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach as she blinked. Nails dug into her waist, her father’s grip tightening.
“You… You understood me?” she asked, her voice no more than a shaky whisper, gone with the wind as soon as it came.
Something sinister twisted in his silent smile, revealing long canines that made him more beast than man. Ignoring her question, callused fingers glided through a strand of her scarlet hair. The gentle motion was at odds with the sound rumbling beneath his ribs.
“Don’t touch her,” her father snapped.
“Papa. No. Don’t,” she implored.
