Page 93 of Dark Awakening

I plant a kiss on her hair, feeling the fire of determination burning in my core. "I swear to you—it's you and me against this enigma. I'm gonna be right there with you, your damn unwavering ally through it all." My hand gently strokes her cheek. "You've given my life a purpose it never had before. Side by side, baby, we're unstoppable."

Danica presses her lips to mine tenderly. "Just don't let go," she whispers.

"Never," I vow, yanking her back into a tight embrace. Our future might be one big fucking question mark, but right now, there's this solid feeling of unity that's rock steady between us. With trust as our damn torch, we'll shine a light on the darkest corners. Whatever comes our way, we're gonna face it as one.

Danica

48

Ilet out a wobbly breath. "You're saying all this stuff about celestial beings and enchanted lands is for real? I mean, we're talking actual fairies, genuine angels flitting around?" The ground under me might as well be made of smoke. My whole understanding of the world is doing a nosedive.

But thank the stars, Rhyland's still here—my one solid rock in this swirling sea of crazy. That alone armors me up to face the deluge of truth slamming into what I thought I knew. His deep dive into where I come from leaves me grasping at straws I didn't even know were mine. This test would shatter lesser spirits, but we can withstand the storm together.

I try for a flippant tone to mask my nerves. "So, any cheat codes or a guidebook with the answers here?"

Rhyland laughs and looks away momentarily. “No, nothing, which makes this so mysterious. Not many details are given here. Adrian, my little brother, knows more about this than anyone else. He’ll likely find more information; it’s our only hope now.”

I eagerly straddle Rhyland’s lap, my body trembling in anticipation. His hands move to cup my ass, under my shorts, with a possessive grip that sends sparks of pleasure through me. I can’t help but look into his deep, ocean-blue eyes. He has stepped into my life and shaken it up in ways I could never have imagined, making an indelible mark on my heart and soul like no one before him.

"Where do you come from? What was your human life like before?"

Rhyland's eyes take on a faraway look as he transports himself back through the ages to summon the memories. "I lived so very long ago, during the Viking age," he begins slowly.

My eyes bulge in disbelief. “So you’re, like, practically a fossil?” I quip cheekily.

He laughs, and I notice he has a dimple on his right cheek…then his face turns serious and sad.

“What?” I ask in confusion, scrunching up my nose. “What’s wrong?”

He heaves out a breath, “I was on the brink of death when my maker appeared to me.”

As he describes that distant life, I feel awe wash over me. He paints the details vividly—the sea air, coarse clothing, raucous feasts by firelight. The heft of weapons in his hands, the thrill of raids, the bonds with his comrades.

But also tender moments—whittling toys for his children, the forests and meadows surrounding their home, his wife's gentle spirit. Hearing this, I find myself deeply moved, imagining the mortal man he once was.

"In those final years, a grim tension gripped my people," Rhyland continues, sorrow tinging his voice. "Omens appeared, spelling doom—blood moons, darkness descended on all of us. Shadows of evil and malice. Political tensions with the English king also grew fraught, violence brewing on the horizon."

I squeeze his hand, sharing the dread he must have felt. Rhyland swallows hard, describing how the call came to go to war. "My youngest had just learned to say 'Papa,'" he whispers.

My heart aches, picturing him leaving his family.

"That winter, I embarked reluctantly with my comrades, our war songs ringing out across the steel-gray sea toward our fates."

I swipe a tear away, sensing his heavy heart in that mournful moment. As Rhyland recounts the next part, I go pale, horrified by the graphic violence. But I don't stop him—I know he must unburden himself from these traumatic memories.

"A stray blade slipped past my guard, slicing across my belly—a mortal wound." He takes my hand, guiding it to press against the spot, and I shudder, imagining his agony.

"As my lifeblood poured out, I collapsed amid the chaos, regretting having to leave my wife and babes so soon." His voice breaks, full of sorrow. I squeeze his hand in mine tightly.

Rhyland describes shadowy spirits appearing, beckoning him to the afterlife. But a voice called, "It is not your time." A chill races down my spine at those cryptic words.

"I awoke to a mysterious ancient stranger gazing down at me. My wound had vanished."

My eyes widened in awe as Rhyland explained how this being offered him immortality and a greater destiny. I am rapt as he describes the temptation after narrowly escaping death.

"To leave my family pained me, but I hoped they would understand. I went back to them only to find them slain."

My heart twists painfully, hearing the conflict he felt between duty to them and seizing this profound chance, only to find them murdered in the end.

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