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January 31 - February 21, 2024
“The antidote’s not a permanent fix. Its effect will wear off—and since the water of Midgard is still contaminated with the parasite, we will be reinfected as soon as it does.”
Longer than a few days, I think, but I’ll need to keep refining it. Find some way to make it permanent.”
“If you get more power, it could put you beyond Sabine’s abilities. Make you strong enough that you could challenge her.” She looked at him seriously. “You might be able to end Sabine’s tyranny, Ithan.”
“I don’t want to lead anyone.” She gave him a look, as if seeing through him.
He could fucking summon snow. The magic sang in him, an old and strange melody.
this elemental power … it shouldn’t exist in a wolf, yet there it was. Rising in him, filling the place where he’d never realized the parasite had existed.
Barriers upon barriers protected Midgard from the Rift, and Hel beyond it.
“Is it a trap?” Ember said as they approached the towering, sealed gates and abandoned guard post.
“No one’s been here for a while.” “I don’t like this,” Ember said. “It’s too easy.”
“I’ve never known the guard station at the Northern Rift to be empty, so … something’s up, for sure.”
“I heard the wall and the gates both had white salt built into them.” For protection against Hel.
It’d be radical and unheard of to accept a Reaper as Prime,
“They need to know there’s an antidote that might grant them powers beyond hers. That they don’t need to be subservient to her.”
“Danika questioned the wolf power structure, you know. Even she thought it was weird that the Fendyrs went unchecked for so long.”
“What is the Harpy doing out here?” “She’s not the Harpy anymore,” Bryce said. “She’s like … some weird necromantically raised thing made by the Asteri thanks to whatever they managed to do with some of Hunt’s lightning. I don’t know, but we don’t want to meet whatever she is now.”
the Harpy ate the guards—
“Surprise: I can teleport. Don’t barf.”
In fact, his stealth was courtesy of his new speed and preternatural quiet—furthered by the fact that he’d traveled through the sewers, needing to remain out of sight until the last possible minute.
“The Asteri planted a parasite in our brains that repressed our inherent magic, reducing it to its most basic components: shifting and strength. Yet even those abilities have been cut off at the knees. All so we can remain their faithful enforcers, as we’ve been since the Northern Rift opened.”
“Magic—elemental magic. It was lying there, dormant in my veins all this time.”
A step behind her, emerging from the shadows, strode Sigrid and the Astronomer.
“This morning, Sigrid informed me that when she was faced with this unspeakable enslavement,” Sabine said, “she wanted to protect her people, so she chose the existence of a Reaper instead. And she has made her way here at last, to be my heir.”
“Everyone knows the Holstroms have long desired to replace the Fendyrs,” Sabine went on.
“she will dwell here from now on. As your future Prime Apparent.”
“I have no intention of usurping the Fendyrs,” Ithan said, keeping his gaze on the ground. “I only want what’s best for our people. I thought Sigrid might be … different, but I was wrong. I was so wrong, and I am so sorry.”
Danika did indeed guess at what you have told everyone. She suspected it, and asked me about it, and though I had long thought the same, I shied away from the truth. It was … easier to continue than to face a painful reality. To keep stability, rather than risk an uncertain future.”
“What Ithan has said to you is true. It has always been true, going back to the First Wars and the unspeakable atrocities our people committed on behalf of the Asteri.
“Danika might have led us back to what we were before we allowed ourselves to be collared by the Asteri. I have long believed that she was killed for this goal—by the powers who wish the status quo to remain in place.”
“Ithan Holstrom is my heir.”
The Prime leveled a cold look at his daughter. “For too long I’ve left you unchecked.”
“You are hereby stripped of your title, your rank, and your authority.”
“I offered to make you Alpha once, Ithan Holstrom. I now offer to make you Prime. Don’t walk away from it.”
One moment, he was staring at the sword. The next, Sabine had snatched it from her father’s hands. She plunged it through the Prime’s ancient face.
Sigrid moved. Ithan couldn’t contain his cry of dismay as she leapt onto her grandfather’s body and pressed her mouth to his withered lips. She inhaled deeply. Light flared up through the Prime’s mouth, illumining his hollowed cheeks, and then Sigrid was breathing it in, drinking it. His soul, his firstlight—
There was no coming back for the Prime. Sabine cut off his head anyway.
“This sword,” Sabine panted, brandishing it, “is mine. The title is mine
Sabine’s eyes flared with shock as Ithan bit down, tasting metal. And shattered the Fendyr sword between his teeth.
“All those years you obsessed over it, resented Danika for having it … It’s just a piece of metal.”
Sigrid plunged her clawed hand into his chest, ripping out his still-beating heart in the same moment that she inhaled deeply,
“Everything I have done,” Sabine panted up at him, “has been for the wolves.” “It’s been for yourself,” Ithan spat, stopping before her. She sneered, revealing blood-coated teeth. “You will lead them to ruin.” “We’ll see” was all Ithan said before shifting once more into his wolf’s body with that preternatural speed.
It was either submit to him, or die.
“Hail Ithan,” Amelie said, loud enough for all to hear, “Prime of the Valbaran Wolves.” In answer, a chorus of howls went up from around the Den. Then the city. Then the wilderness beyond the city walls. As if all of Midgard hailed him.
And as his howl finished echoing, he could have sworn he heard a male wolf’s cry float up from the Bone Quarter itself.
Ruhn didn’t recognize his city. Imperial battleships filled the Istros. Dreadwolves prowled the streets. The 33rd had been joined by the Asterian Guard.
Hunt funneled more lightning into her, and the sliver widened, inch by inch. The Northern Rift had been fixed on Hel
“I am here on behalf of Bryce Quinlan, Queen of the Fae of Valbara and Avallen, to request asylum in the Blue Court for the people of Crescent City.”
The River Queen blinked slowly. “You ask me to take a stand against the Republic itself.” “What happened in Asphodel Meadows was a disgrace,” Tharion said, voice dangerously low. “If you don’t stand against the Republic for something of this nature, then you’re complicit in their slaughter.”
It had worked. They’d managed to make the Northern Rift open to a place other than Hel.
“I need you to give me the Mask.”
“I need it to give me an edge against the Asteri. To destroy them.”
