War has come for us. And they’ve cut us off from the village. From Abigail and the Valkyrie. They’re a black plague, standing between us and our mates.
Nei. Not today. Not our mate. Not ever.
“Beskytt Valkyrie!” I roar, my voice echoing through the frigid air.
“Beskytt Valkyrie!” my brothers roar back.
We charge forward as one, lyststål singing as they slice through the air. The Forsaken and varulv rush forward to meet our charge, dark magic flying from the hands of the Forsaken. We dodge it when we can, and bat it aside when we cannot.
“Hel taki þik!” I snarl, my lyststål biting into the neck of a Forsaken. His yellow eyes widen in shock as the wound immediately burns and smokes. I kick him from my blade, spinning to plunge it into the throat of a varulv attempting to bite Damrion.
His blade is a whirlwind of death as we push our way forward, killing everything in our path. Reaper is unstoppable on my other side, Forsaken after Forsaken falling to his lyststål.
My heart pounds, each beat screaming Abigail’s name. I don’t stop moving. Don’t stop killing. With every enemy that falls, I think of her. I think of the bond tying me to her and Damrion. I’ll protect it at all costs.
We fight and run, bodies piling around us, the stench of blood and death and charred flesh filling the air. My lyststål slices through another Forsaken and then another. But they still keep coming. We’re drowning in a sea of dark magic and varulv venom—the army Abigail warned us was coming.
I glance at Damrion and see the same stark realization on his face. War is here, and we’re vastly outnumbered. Worse, exhaustion is setting in.
“We’ll make it,” I snarl at him. Faen. We have to make it. We vowed to protect her. If we die now, she’s defenseless.
"Keep fighting!" he roars in response, cleaving a varulv in two.
The Forsaken surge forward, more portals opening. We fight for every inch of ground, but instead of moving forward, they begin to push us back, further from the gate. Further from Abigail.
Malachi stumbles, falling.
“Skítkarl!” Reaper roars, using his lyststål to chop the head off the Forsaken looming over Malachi, dark magic flowing from his hands.
A varulv crashes into him, driving him to his knees beside Malachi.
Faen. We’re falling. We’re failing.
Abigail. Gods, Abigail.
“Look out!” Rissa shouts suddenly, her voice cutting through the chaos.
“Helvete,” Damrion breathes beside me, awe coursing through the bond.
I glance up and see what he does—a ball of Light blazing brighter than the sun walking toward us. Nei, not a ball of light, but Abigail, Tori, Rissa, and Marion arm in arm, marching toward us in an unbreakable chain.
Every enemy that touches the Light burns. They don’t scream. They simply die. The Valkyrie push them back, carving a path between them. They scurry like roaches, fleeing the Light...fleeing the Valkyrie.
“Hurry,” Rissa says. “I don’t know how long we can hold it.”
Dax grabs Malachi, hauling him to his feet. Reaper leaps to his. We don’t ask questions. We rush toward them, lyststål spinning until the Light engulfs us.
We stick close as the Valkyrie turn, marching back toward the gates. The Forsaken send dark magic spinning toward us, but it melts against the inferno like butter, unable to penetrate.
Within minutes, we’re safely through the gates of Eitr, the Forsaken and varulv too wary to follow. The gates slam shut behind us.
The Valkyrie slowly let go of each other’s hands, their Light winking out.
Abigail stumbles.
“Abigail!” Damrion’s lyststål vanishes as he grabs for her, dragging her into his arms.
I release mine too, pressing my body to hers, my face to her hair. I breathe her in, inhaling her in greedy gulps.
"Damrion, Adriel," she breathes, her blue eyes filled with tears as she clings to us. “You’re safe.”
"Ja," I murmur into her hair, but I can't help but wonder for how long any of us are safe. War has come, and it's come for our Valkyrie.
"The Forsaken have our sister,” she whispers, tipping her head back to look up at him. “They have the blood of all five Valkyrie, Damrion.“
"We noticed," he growls, placing his palm against her cheek. "They’ve opened portals all over the forest."
"They've come for the Bifrost," Rissa says, her expression grim as she clings to Dax, who holds her against him as if supporting her weight.
Damrion's eyes flash with unholy fire. "Nei. They've come to die. They aren't taking our mate, and they aren't taking the Bifrost. We'll die where we stand before we let them have either. If it's war they want, it's war they'll get."
I nod in agreement, my grip on Abigail tightening. She’s our heart, our soul, our purpose. And we will do everything in our power to protect her. If it’s her they want, they’re going to have to go through us to get her.
And Damrion and I aren’t going to make it easy. She’s the first thing we’ve agreed on in millennia, and when it comes to her, nothing will break us. Not the Forsaken. Not war. Nothing.
Author's Note
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