Page 23 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

He glanced down, and his breath caught in his lungs. The kaleidoscope of colors played across her face, bathing her in their ethereal glow, was breathtaking.

He had thought her beautiful, but with starlight shimmering over her black hair, giving it a sheen of blue, not unlike the iridescence of a raven’s feathers. His breath caught in his lungs.

She was magnificent.

“I have always wanted to travel through space. I've met several of Freyja’s Night Witches who have had the experience. This is even better than they described.”

“Why aren’t we dead, frozen peoplesicles?” Castien shivered. The jerk was strong enough that Cyran felt it move through Shalendra.

“Peoplesicles? Really?” Cyran asked as she laughed.

“Well, we are all different beings, so I couldn’t say dwarfsicles, godsicles, or elfsicles, so I kept it simple.”

“You and Ailuin will get along well.”

“They will, won’t they? I’ve thought that often,” Shalendra agreed. “Castien, we are all three the same race. Our DNA shows us to be elves…well, I have a bit of Norse god in me, but I am wholly elf in my heart. To answer your question, Freyja’s breath keeps us warm—and very much alive. Her seidr, her magic, is strong. Sometimes, I wonder if it's stronger than even Óðinn’s.”

Cyran pulled his gaze from her beautiful face. Staring into the universe, an unfamiliar peacefulness settled behind his ribs, nestling around his heart.

The anger and constant drive for revenge against his stepfather and whoever he had conspired with faded for the first time since the Great War, which almost destroyed the Elven world.

They flew past a molten-red planet with ribbons of white gas clouds spiraling around its round form. Next appeared a swirling blue orb that, even with Freyja’s spell, the frozen gases skittered through him. A hard shiver moved through Shalendra and jostled his injured side, although compared to past wounds, it felt like a mere scratch, so he wasn’t worried.

He pulled her closer to him, trying to keep her warm as their path seemed to change, veering them toward a bright pink planet. At the last moment, they changed direction again, zooming past an icy blue giant.

Even though they were not close, the heat blasting from the planet's surface was hot enough to take his breath away. Glancing down, he patted several areas where tendrils of gray smoke spiraled from his pants and shirt.

As they sped away from the burning planet, his eyes readjusted to the darkness, barely making out the speck in the distance. Squinting, the speck grew into a small gray dot.

Speeding toward it, the planet grew into a massive ball, dwarfing all the other plants they had passed. Drawing closer still, he made out dark shapes scattered about the surface, the objects reminding him of rocks.

“Shouldn’t we be slowing down if this is where Freyja wanted us to go?” Castien’s worry was evident in the trembling of his voice. “I mean…”

They dropped onto the rocky ground, their upper bodies teetering as they fought for balance. With his arm still around Shalendra, Cyran steadied her as she held on to Castien, who wasn’t so lucky as he fell forward, his splayed hands on the ground in front of him, his butt in the air. Biting back a chuckle, Cyran’s gaze moved around the empty expanse. “Where do you think we are?”

Something tugged on his arm, and he glanced down to find Shalendra’s other arm outstretched, her finger pointing to something in front of them.

Following her finger, his gaze landed on a blue door tucked into a niche in the mountainside. The large brass knob seemed out of place somehow, not that there should have been a door in the mountain either.

He rubbed his forehead and wiped away beads of sweat. “I’m getting a headache. So, maybe this is a portal door, and when we open it, it will lead us to where we need to be?”

Shalendra and Castien both shrugged.

She scowled at the door. “From how Aleksandra and Lilyann talk, I assumed Freyja would send us to where she wanted us to be. This doesn’t make sense. What do we do—open the door and step through?” Her scowl turned to worry. “We have no idea what we would be walking into.”

Cyran clenched his jaw in frustration, but they had no choice. If this was where the goddess wanted them to be, they would have to go through that door, regardless of the consequences. “Freyja isn’t a vengeful goddess, nor would she send those she cares for into peril.”

His gaze held hers. “You mean the world to her. She would protect you with everything she has. I am certain we will be fine.” He wished he felt as confident as he sounded.

Castien nodded, suddenly gripping the brass knob. In one swift motion, he flung open the door and stepped inside the darkened interior.

“I didn’t mean to open it without caution,” Cyran griped when a bloodcurdling scream sounded from the interior. A strange blue glow lit up the space, showing them a small room and Castien standing still in the middle of it.

“Castien!” Shalendra's hands flew to her head, her fingers digging into her temples as if in pain.

Cyran leaped forward and jumped through the doorway, conjuring his sword as he had done a million times. He reached Castien and faced a familiar group of creatures, their ghostly arms raised over their cowled heads. A bluish-white light pulsed from their fingertips and cast an eerie glow over their long robes, which seemed to flutter in an invisible breeze as they held the young dwarf in place.

Cyran glanced at Castien’s face. His heart stuttered. The dwarf was as pale as death; his green eyes bleached to pale silver, and his lips were a frozen shade of blue.

---