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CHAPTER ONE
KAL
I jerked awake to the blaring sirens, my heart hammering against my ribs. What the hell was this? Were we under attack? I exchanged a panicked look with Thorsten before throwing back the covers and rushing to the boys' room. "Thor! Loki!" I cried out, shaking their small bodies, but they remained still, locked in some doomed slumber.
“Thorsten, get Thor out of the house while I…”
They were already gone. I shook my head, brushing off the discrepancy. My only thought now was to get our remaining son to safety.
I grabbed Loki's shoulders, lifting his lolling head in desperation, but it sagged lifeless in my hands, his limbs cold and limp beneath my frantic grasp. Terror clawed its way up my throat as I begged and pleaded for them to wake, my voice cracking, tears streaking my cheeks. But my precious boys did not stir, entrapped in an unnatural, deathly sleep.
The walls of the darkened room seemed to melt away before my eyes, shadows swirling sickeningly. I now stood alone in a cavernous, ruined throne room, dust and debris scattered around my feet. The high ceiling had partially caved in, allowing thin shafts of pale light to slice through the gloom. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I took in the crumbling columns and faded banners bearing unfamiliar, sinister crests. A menacing presence lurked in this doomed place, a baleful darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.
Faceless titan lords materialized out of the gloom, flickering lights casting their hooded figures in menacing silhouettes. "Abomination," one hissed accusingly, bony fingers pointing my way.
"What did you do to my sons, you bastards!?" My protective instincts drowned my fear. The shadowy figures only laughed, a cold mocking sound that echoed ominously through the desolate hall.
I had to escape! This place couldn’t be real! Spotting an arched entryway, I broke into a desperate run. But I skidded to a horrified halt at the sight that awaited me, the air punching from my lungs. Thorsten lay lifeless on the mosaic floor, eyes staring vacantly upward, dark blood pooling beneath him.
"No!" I screamed, sprinting to his side. I collapsed beside him, pulling his hulking frame into my lap. "Thorsten," I sobbed, clasping his cold lifeless face in trembling hands, pleading futilely for him to wake up. But my beloved mate remained devastatingly still, lifeless. I cried out…I couldn’t do anything else… Why the hell am I so goddamn weak?!
The cries of gulls and the soothing whispers of ocean waves filtered in through the open bedroom window as the morning sun crept across the floor. The gossamer curtains fluttered in the balmy desert breeze. I stirred slowly, waking to the melodic morning prayers drifting from the nearby village. It was just a dream, a terribly vivid nightmare. But I still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that dominated my thoughts. Why was I thinking about stuff like this now? For the past month, I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen once me and the boys entered that portal to the Titan world. Each and every dream became more and more nightmarish as time went on.
At first, I was getting rejected at family dinner. Next, I was forced to eat on the floor, then I had to eat off the damn floor. Each dream getting worse until this newest round of dream torture.
Blinking my eyes open, I gazed affectionately at Thorsten’s titanic form beside me, sound asleep and snoring softly. Even sprawled diagonally across our modest bed, his legs still dangled off the mattress. The amusing sight brought a smile to my lips. Unable to resist, I leaned over and pressed a kiss to Thorsten’s forehead, brushing back a wisp of starlight hair.
Our beachside villa was far humbler than Thorsten's lavish apartments back in Jötun. The whitewashed walls and terracottatiled roof gave it a simple charm. Warmth emanated from its wooden beams and furnishings.
The front door opened to a cozy living area with soft rugs and plush pillows that were perfect for lounging. Farther back was a modest kitchen with a hand-pump sink and a large fireplace.
On one side of the small courtyard were the bedrooms, the larger suite was for us, with a “dwarven-sized” bed, and a smaller room for the twins with two child-sized beds they were already growing out of. My dad preferred the canopied roof outside.
The back patio balcony overlooked the sea, with a carved table and bench chairs to take meals or watch the sunset.
Overall, our home felt intimate yet airy, a place made for humans and titans to live in. The artisanal decor gave it a unique charm that made me love it here. So much so that I was dragging my heels on telling Thorsten when I was ready to enter the portal. Don’t get me wrong. I actually wanted to see his home world and I knew just how much he had wanted to return. As an exile, he no longer had access to that archive back in old New York where he would watch vids of home. And although the portal was working, he was still trapped here because of me and my stupid fears.
The mingling scents of fresh bread and fragrant spices from the markets filled the air outside. The town's energy could be heard even from our secluded abode. The perk Thorsten had of still being respected as a royal prince.
The fishing village of Dakhla was the fabled sanctuary known as Sahara. The place was located in Western Sahara. Hence the name of the sanctuary. The village was and still is occupied by a country called Morocco. And you would think you would see nothing but desert sands but that’s not the case with the area sitting along a narrow peninsula of the Atlantic Coast. Dakhla, like most of Africa, wasn’t impacted physically by the cataclysmic Titan arrival. However, the continent still struggled through lean, uncertain times during the economic collapse of human society. The only thing we had here besides its abundance of sea life thanks to its productive current system and Nouadhibou upswelling nearby, but a thriving Oyster farming, which was still done traditionally by hand by the locals. The Titans didn’t care too much for the texture but they loved the pearls. From time to time I would scoop up some on my dives to sell to traders who humanely scooped out the precious jewels to ship overseas.
As a matter of fact, that’s how Thorsten, my dad, and I managed to get to this place. We had made it as far as Quebec and we had to earn our passage across the Atlantic by agreeing to a few dive missions on board an old Cruise Ship. The ship was used to transport the jewels and other resources from Africa to North America.
It was kind of invigorating, to participate in the slow and steady process of repairing the damage caused by the Titan arrival. It made me see that the world truly was much bigger than I had ever imagined and the sanctuary cities felt like small oases in comparison.
When I first laid eyes on Dakhla, I couldn’t believe this place was real, a place that managed to remain the same since beforethe Titan’s arrival. No wonder titans and humans had escaped here. It was different here than in the other sanctuary cities. The Titans were open instead of living in a palace of seclusion. Even Vanir, which I praised for its safety, still had Titan rulers who never mingled with the “common” folk.
After stealing a fond glimpse of my slumbering partner, I slid from bed carefully to let Thorsten rest. I cracked open the twins’ bedroom, chuckling at the sight of our four-year-olds Thor and Loki who were still fast asleep with the covers kicked all over the place and poor Thor was practically half way out of bed. I tipped-toed over and straightened him out, tucking both him and his brother in. I marveled at their swift growth, so much bigger than human children their age already. As a result, they were too big to play with the kids their own age, but also too little to play with the older kids. Maybe watching them struggle here was behind my nightmares about Utangard and the possible harsh treatment we could face if we went there. But what if going to Thorsten’s world was the best possible solution for them?
I could hardly believe I had given birth to them myself. The painful yet exhilarating ordeal remained seared into my memory.
Shutting the door gently behind me so as not to disturb their slumber, I headed outside to start my morning routine, eager to enjoy the serenity of early dawn before the heat of the day set in.
After stretching my muscles, I began flowing through practiced fighting forms on the beach, keeping my movements precise and meditative, my feet digging into the sand. The rhythmic shushing of waves and cries of wheeling gulls underscored each focused form. Barras, the Madam’s…I mean Jarnsaxa’s humanmate began offering self-defense courses for the humans here, and I practically jumped at the chance to learn. With everything that happened to me before, getting set up, betrayed, and sold into slavery. Suffering a devastating injury to my right eye, and my overall lack of ability to defend myself when those men burst into my dad’s hospital room and took me away. My confidence was shattered piece by piece until I felt almost like a shell of my former self.
Taking these courses, learning how to defend myself, was my way of getting that confidence back. And I did. I eventually got rid of the eye patch and accepted the scars. I felt more capable than ever. If anyone came for me, my children, or Thorsten again. I would be able to do more than just place everything on Thorsten’s shoulders.
CHAPTER TWO
