Page 186 of Fallen Nocturne

A sound cuts through the silence.

“Svenn!”

A faint voice calling for someone. It’s not my name but I stop walking. I turn my head, trying to pinpoint the direction.

“Svenn!”

The voice is beautiful, like a melody and music I forgot existed—

Rhianelle.

Everything rushes back in one violent wave. I know exactly who I am.

My name. My kingdom. My beasts. The centuries of blood and darkness.

I am Svenn… Arescaine Darian Andras of Morsvyenn. I am a Strigon.

Rhianelle is calling for me.

What the fuck am I doing walking?

Pain tears across my back as my wings burst free, spreading wide behind me. I launch into the air and follow the sound of her voice, searching the endless gray below. Souls blur beneath me, but none of them have silver hair. None of them are her.

“Svenn!”

She’s calling for me.

Even flying would take too long. I reach for the shadows instead. They answer instantly, opening around me like a doorway.

Where to? Coinneach asks.

Home.

I step through.

Rhianelle appears before me, her silver hair catching what little light exists in this realm. Her small body is streaked with ash, and she is running toward me with exhausted determination.

Then I see the stranger looming over her.

I move faster than lightning.

I put myself between them, one hand shooting out to seize him by the throat.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snarl, and my grip tightens. “What did you do to her? If you hurt her, I swear I’ll—”

“Svenn, stop! Don’t kill him!” Rhianelle says, panicked. “That’s Death!”

I freeze. “What?”

“Death,” she repeats, and she’s trying to pull my hand away from his throat.

I release him. Reluctantly.

Death stumbles back and rubs his throat, glaring at me, but I no longer care about him.

Rhianelle throws herself at me. We collide, and I catch her, pulling her hard against my chest.

For one glorious moment, there is only her. Her arms around me. Her face buried against my neck. Her heartbeat beneath my hand.