Page 84 of Whisper of Nightmares

His voice takes on a distant quality near the end. That alone is enough to soothe her nerves.

Clearly, not his though.

Whatever demons he’s now grappling with internally, Euphemia is certain she never wants to confront them. And the longer he spends revisiting them in his mind, the chillier the night becomes.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Euphemia flashes him a wry smile. “Well, did I pass your test, then?”

He nods, slowly. Like he has to drag himself away from those unseen demons.

“I saw the helhest chase you. Saw the fear pool like blood in your eyes.” He shakes his head, and Euphemia almost thinks she sees the skull jostle with the motion, like it’s not fully attached. “Spirits do not fear the helhest like that. They are comforted by its presence. They welcome its guidance through the cold, vast lands of Helheim.”

Euphemia swallows the dryness in her throat. Tries ignoring the memory of fear that clawed through her when the nightmare reared at her.

“You were watching me the whole time then?”

Ash gives a single nod.

“You saw me run into Náströnd?”

Another confirmation.

Something sharp cinches her chest when she realizes the full weight of what that means. “And…you came after me anyway?”

This time, not a single muscle flinches.

Ash stands so still it’s like he’s trying to blend in with the magenta surroundings. But he is draped in darkness. A black smudge upon the earth. Wicked flames for eyes and horns sharp enough to pierce through flesh. A monster of her darkest machinations.

It was a direct violation of his own warning, and he came anyway. Put himself in danger.

And yet…

This monster came to her aid.

He saved her.

His shoulders roll beneath the fur pelt, shaking off the stiffness previously pinning him in place.

Slowly he turns, the flame in his eyes one she anticipates to be scorching⁠—

But this time, the flames are gone.

Human eyes stare back at her. As crystalline as ice at the start of winter’s thaw.

A shaky breath escapes her.

It catches his eye and the contact they make makes her heart race. Does she tell him about this small change? When he saw his reflection in the stream, it was clear he’d never seen himself before. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed the flames, and drawing attention to them now might only startle him.

Euphemia forces her gaze away and tries focusing instead of their surroundings.

But all around her, she is confronted by strangeness. Places that should not be. Creatures she should not see. Things she has yet to know.

Euphemia turns back toward Ash to find he’s still watching her with something like doubt and intrigue whirling behind his crystal blue eyes that she can now see so clearly. So much emotion behind them. Pain. Longing. Dread.

“You are no spirit,” he says, a severity to his voice that gives her chills.

“I thought we already established this.”

“I know. I remember.” It makes her heart squeeze with triumph, even though she’s certain she’s done nothing at all. “But why are you here? This is Helheim, Euphemia. Only the dead should be here.” Hearing her name on his lips again does such strange things to her stomach. She tells herself its nausea. That’s what a normal, respectable, married woman would feel if a man with a horse skull for a face uttered her name.