Page 143 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
‘Good,’ the red-haired valkyrian replied. Her hair burnt like a live flame in the thinning dawn, and before either of them could so much as inhale, she moved.
Steel flashed.
She seized Bryn from behind, hauling him back against her chest, the edge of her blade kissing the vulnerable hollow of his throat.
‘Keep your pets in control,’ she warned.
The wolves surged forward with furious snarls, teeth gleaming. Bryn stiffened but raised a hand, breath steady despite the sword poised at his skin. The pack obeyed, though their growls rolled low and dangerous through the cave.
The second valkyrian stepped to Kage’s side, his attention shifting between her and the first pale streaks of sunlight creeping over the mountain ridge.
‘We’re not warlocks,’ Bryn spat, struggling against the restraint.
‘Bryn,’ Kage said quietly, calmly. ‘Just do as they say. It will be fine.’
For a heartbeat, the fury in Bryn’s blue eyes blazed.
Then it softened.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
They were forced back onto the narrow mountain path, the wind cutting sharp against their skin. The wolves followed close behind, circling, snarling, teeth bared but they did not attack.
Kage could feel it now.
The sun climbing.
The pull deepening.
‘Bryn,’ he said, keeping his voice steady as the world began to feel thin around him. ‘I’ll be back tonight. Hold on until I return.’
Both valkyrians shot him bewildered looks.
Bryn did not question him.
He simply nodded again.
Trust, fierce and unshaken, burnt in his eyes.
Kage smiled at it.
And then he felt the Underworld claim him.
The ground beneath him split open without warning, a jagged seam tearing through stone and earth. Shadow coiled upward like smoke given hunger, wrapping around his legs, his waist.
The valkyrians stumbled back in horror.
The wolves howled.
And in the blink of an eye, Kage was dragged downward, swallowed whole by darkness, leaving nothing behind but the echo of the mountain wind and the stunned silence of those who had witnessed the impossible.
There is a god called Cronus. The creator of time. No one knows where he comes from or what there was before he created time. He has his own realm, and no one can enter it. But they say he has no form, no shape, no face.
Which makes me wonder if he has a soul.
Perhaps none of us do.
Tabitha Wysteria
