Page 108 of Catastrophe

“You aren’t.” Regin didn’t take the question seriously and continued walking, even when Fafnir stopped.

“But what if I was? You’d kill me?”

“Darius, if you were a witch, I would kill you with my bare hands. Witches are evil. I told you my story, how I got these scars. Magic ruined my life and took my family, and I won’t rest until every unnatural being in this world is dead.”

He didn’t notice Fafnir’s hand shaking as he nodded and followed his leader.

The scene changed to a dark hall where Fafnir was drinking from a pitcher and looking introspective. He didn’t look older than the last scene and he was wearing the same cloak, so I thought it couldn’t have been too long after.

Another man with perfect porcelain skin pulled back a chair and sat opposite Fafnir, looked up and then double took. “You—”

Did they recognize each other?

“You,” the other man said with a smile as he eyed the arrow embroidery on Fafnir’s sleeve. I hadn’t noticed it until now and the clear symbol of the hunters confirmed everything for me. “How interesting that you decide to hide in plain sight of the hunters.”

Fafnir turned white. His eyes widened, and his hand clenched around the handle of his weapon. “You won’t tell them,” he growled.

“Won’t I?” the man raised a taunting eyebrow and smiled.

“Are you the reason they sent me here?” Fafnir whispered, looking around at the other people whispering and glancing over at the pair.

He leaned back in his chair and took a casual swing of his drink. “Probably. There are no other supernaturals in this village. Just you and I.”

“They’ll kill you.”

“They are welcome to try. I’m not as easy to kill as a witch.”

Fafnir paused. “You’re not a witch?”

“I’m faei.” And as he said it, I could see it. “I’ve been roaming this realm since the Fall.”

“Since the Fall of the Titans?” Fafnir’s mouth dropped open, all his indifference and cool vanished. His eyes were wide with awe.

“You know your history. That is good. You’ll need it.”

His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You have an interesting heritage, and possibilities swirl around you like a hurricane.” The faei’s eyes clouded as Daithi’s did. “You cause a Fall of your own.”

Fafnir leaned over the table and whispered, “How do you know that? What do you mean?”

“I have visions of the future. Of the past. Of present. You are a person of great interest to the Fates.”

“The Fates know of me?”

“They know of us all. But you have many futures, many possibilities, and there are decisions only you can make, only you can control.” The faei’s voice was all mysterious and low, but it was vague and Fafnir’s awe faded as skepticism creeped into guarded eyes.

The faei continued speaking with white eyes. “You want to know how you can love the hunters who have treated you so kindly, yet be their enemy. You wonder if the witches still look for you, and they do. Sigurd is being trained, built up with portal magic to prevent you from going to other realms. You wish for acceptance, love, worship, but you will not find it in this life. You will die, either by the hunters or the witches.”

“I’m going to die,” Fafnir repeated blankly.

“Yes.”

His jaw clenched, and his lip wobbled. “If I weren’t a dragon …”

“If you weren’t a dragon, you’d still be a witch and hunters kill witches. And if you were a human hunter, supernaturals would hunt you. It is the way of this realm.”

“I just want to be …” He couldn’t say it, but we all knew what he meant. He wanted to be human. He wanted to be a hunter.

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