2026-08-17 22:34:31
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40
The dark, damp floor of the swine pit was the only world she knew.For three days, the young woman whom her cold-hearted mistress simply called Elira had huddled against the filthy wooden planks, shivering in the dark. She had tried her absolute best not to touch the pigs’ slop troughs, but her throat burned like raw fire. Extreme thirst had driven her to crawl on her hands and knees, lapping at whatever liquid remained in the wooden troughs.But today, even the troughs were dry.Elira sat in the darkness, her sightless, milky-blue eyes staring blankly into the shadows. Tears tracked clean paths down her soot-stained cheeks.I’m sorry, she wept silently, clutching her bruised knees against her chest. I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong last night, mistress. Please... just a drop of water...Just when her chest threatened to heave with a desperate scream for mercy, the heavy iron bolt on the door screeched open.Sunlight blasted into the pit.Elira immediately scrambled forward and pres
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Halvard sat deep within the warded ledger-vault of the High House, surrounded by stacks of ancient parchment and glowing appraisal stones. For seven straight hours, he had not left the room. He had refused all callers, ignored the frantic knocks of his servants, and buried his face entirely in the grand balance sheets of the family estate.To a man like Halvard, nothing was more critical than wealth and bloodline.Earlier that day, he had finalized the sale of the worthless little thing that had been clinging to his household for six long years. Disowning Liv had been simple enough—he had discarded her the moment she proved useless, leaving her to rot in the outer pit. Selling Astrid off through the border traders had simply been good business.If I hadn't sold the child, Halvard mused, a cold sneer touching his lips as he stamped a golden seal onto a ledger, that drunkard Kaedric might have stumbled into my court one day demanding I formally adopt her into the main line. A beggar e
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In Lady Skadi’s mind, the situation was starkly clear.Kaedric wasn't standing on the parapet in total silence because he was bluffing—he was standing there because he truly had nothing to lose. His unnerving composure told her everything: if her ice magic failed to halt the charge, he would simply step forward, unleash his own terrifying power, and obliterate the five hundred traitors himself.This is my only chance to save my son, she thought, her pulse racing.She didn't hesitate for another second.Skadi raised both hands, her pale fingers tracing intricate, glowing marks in the freezing air.CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!A blinding wave of white frost erupted from her palms, cascading over the stone battlements and tearing down the hillside like a frozen tide. The air went from cold to killing in the space of a breath.The front line of the invading horde didn't even have time to scream. Two hundred armored mercenaries, dark cultists, and twisted war-beasts were frozen solid mid-stride. The
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“There has to be a third option,” Kaedric whispered through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as the dark shape dissolved into thin air.Silence swallowed the room. It offered no third choice, no miracle, and no mercy. The silence itself was the answer: he was out of options.CRACK!A sharp knock echoed from the heavy oak door of the sanctuary.Kaedric moved on instinct. Suppressing his exhaustion with raw, unyielding discipline, he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, smoothed down his tunic, and unlocked the heavy iron latch.The door swung inward—and Kaedric’s hand froze near his waist.A stunning woman with pale skin and silver eyes stood on the threshold, two glowing ice blades at her waist. She wore navy scales and silk, and the air around her crackled with cold. She was clearly a frost-warden of the Northern Marches—and not someone to play with.“Who are you?” Kaedric asked, his brow furrowing into a cold, dangerous line.The woman bowed her head slightly, a subtle, captivati
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The moment the thick oak door of the inner sanctuary clicked shut, Kaedric’s composure completely shattered. He collapsed against the cold stone wall, sliding down until his knees hit the floor. His breathing came in ragged, painful gasps. His hands shook violently as he brought them up to his face, dark veins pulsing dangerously against his pale skin. He was completely running on empty. Summoning the Valkyrie to fulfill his bargain with Lord Aurelius at the Citadel had drained him to absolute nothing. He didn't have enough left in him to light a candle, let alone obliterate an army of five hundred seasoned killers. Askheim's wards were in ruins from Gunnhild’s betrayal, the city was vulnerable, and he was currently nothing more than a mortal wearing a god's reputation. If the enemy realized his aura was a bluff, Askheim would fall before sunset. Suddenly, a burning heat flared on his inner forearm. The ancient sigil—the same one he had opened to ask about the existence of his
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Inside the High Chamber's war room, the silence stretched thin enough to snap. Lawspeaker Vargr stood frozen by the grand stone table, his breathing fast and shallow as the crimson map glowed with the approaching traitor forces. Over five hundred heavily armored mercenaries and dark-cultists—the remnants of Rothgar's regional vanguard—were sweeping toward Askheim’s outer gates, capitalizing on the chaos Gunnhild had stirred. Liv’s heart hammered against her ribs. She gripped the edge of her cloak, her eyes darting nervously toward Kaedric’s face. She looked for a crack, a flinch, a sign of panic—anything to show he was afraid. He gave her nothing. Kaedric stood with the same unreadable, stoic expression he had worn since the day he returned to her. His golden eyes were steady, his posture relaxed, as if the news of an invading host were nothing more than a passing breeze. Seeing that quiet, absolute confidence washed a wave of instant relief through Liv’s chest. He has this under
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