Abigail
For years, I've dreamed of the two Fae meant to change my life. I've seen them in nearly every vision that's haunted my mind. But I never expected to love them this fiercely. I'll do anything to bring them peace. But I never imagined we'd be tested like this.
What Fate wants from us is terrifying. And if I can't heal what's broken between them, everything is lost. I'll damn us all. Destroy us all.
I can't let that happen. Not to them. Not ever.
I won't be a tool for the Dark. I won't betray them. And I will never give up on them. Not when my soul belongs to them and them alone.
Prologue
Damrion
Álfheimr, 2500 Years Ago
A thick haze of acrid smoke and gray ash hangs over Álfheimr, choking the life out of our world. I cough as it billows in black clouds from fires raging all over the realm that birthed the Fae. From my vantage point on the battlements of the castle, I see the red glow far below. It’s as if the Jötunn set the entire world on fire.
I pace back and forth, my footsteps echoing against the crumbling remains of our once-legendary castle. The screams of the dead and the dying float up from the haze below, threatening to break me in a way nothing ever has.
My world is dying.
Surt and his Giants have laid waste to it, their fury merciless. We’re on the verge of losing everything, but I refuse to let it fall without a fight.
I owe our people this much. It shouldn’t be my choice. I wasn’t meant to lead. My duty is to Valhalla and the oaths I swore to protect her borders. But word arrived days ago that I’m the last remaining royal.
Álfheimr has no one else.
My heart aches with the weight of loss. The conflict has claimed everyone I love.
Nei, not everyone.
I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms as Adriel’s face floats to the surface of my mind. He’s still out there. He’s still fighting.
Gods, Adriel.
His lips are on mine, his hands tangled in my hair. His kiss is urgent, desperate, as though he's trying to convey a thousand unspoken words.
I respond with the same urgency, clutching him to me. His taste is intoxicating, his scent overwhelmingly familiar. It’s the only comfort left these days.
He’s my only peace. I just wish I would have been strong enough to reach for him long before this fucking war started.
All that time wasted...
“Damrion,” he groans, writhing against me as I wrap my hand around his erection. “Fuck.”
A powerful knock on the door shatters the moment like glass hitting stone.
I wrench myself from his arms, my heart hammering against my ribcage. In two steps, I’m on the opposite side of the chamber, my back to him.
“Enter!” I shout.
Burion hurries into the room, rivulets of blood running down his face. They stain his hands. His eyes are wild as they meet mine.
"The Eastern Regiment..." he gasps, panting as if he ran the entire way here. "Under attack. Outnumbered by thousands."
Faen.
If the Eastern Regiment falls, Álfheimr falls. They’re our last line of defense.
“Thank you. Get yourself to the Valkyrie and rest. I’ll send word to the generals.”
How many of our generals even still live?
Burion nods and stumbles out, leaving behind an oppressive silence.
I turn back to Adriel, a weight on my heart. It only grows when I see his face. The fire in his eyes has winked out, replaced by a chilling emptiness. And I know it has nothing to do with the news Burion brought.
This is my doing.
“Adriel, I—”
"I'm going," he says suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion.
My heart clenches.
"Adriel, wait." I reach for him but he steps back, his face set in an icy glare. “You don't owe us anything else. You’ve done enough."
He’s been unstoppable since the war began, one of our most deadly warriors. If history remembers us at all, it’ll be this Fae and his Light they immortalize.
