Page 74 of Marked By His Hunger

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Before the mantle.

Before I embraced the Monster.

“I’m the Draugr.”

“Aye,” he replied mildly. “But I dinnae think that’s your whole story.”

My knees wobbled when I stood.

I hated it.

Hated the weakness.

But I took his hand when he offered it.

Pride is useless when one’s heart feels like it’s being crushed by fate.

“You’ve found her,” he said quietly.

“How can you know that?”

He smiled in that infuriatingly calm way.

“Where is she?”

Without thinking, I answered.

“She’s walking down the main road toward the village pub.”

Silence.

Then realization.

“Wait. How did I know that?”

“You imprinted.”

The word detonated inside my skull.

No.

Impossible.

I barked a laugh that sounded feral even to my own ears.

“The Norns have never blessed a Draugr in generations. Why would they start with me?”

Because you’re breaking.

Because you’ve tried to be better.

Because Raven never fully died.

I crushed the thoughts.

My DeathFace surged forward, skeletal and corpse-like.

Flesh hollowed. Fangs lengthened. Horns sharpened.

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