Page 38 of Valkyrie Song

"Where the fuck did they all come from?" Rhistel growls.

"The Portal," Damrion breathes, nodding his head in that direction as waves of the hellhounds pour out of it. "The Forsaken sent them to take the Portal."

"Not today," Malachi says grimly. "We aren't giving it up."

No, we're not. Not today or any other day.

"BeskyttValkyrie," Damrion murmurs to the Fae. "Beskytt portalen. Even if it costs every last Fae life."

"BeskyttValkyrie," the Fae repeat.

We advance as one, slashing and hacking, killing everything we can. The wolves run at our heels, protecting our backs, keeping the varulv from circling around behind us. Krandriel falls to a varulv beside me. He tries to fight his way back to his feet, but another varulv launches at him.

He plunges hislyststålinto its throat, nearly severing the thing's head from its body before the poison overwhelms him. He crumbles with a groan.

"Krandriel!" I shout.

"Leave me," he groans. "Get to your Valkyrie. Protect her."

Fuck. This isn't how the day was supposed to go.

I kneel beside him, preparing to say a prayer, but before I can even reach for him, his body lights up. He chokes out a gasp, going rigid.

Tori.

I glance ahead to see the Valkyrie advancing toward us in an unbroken line, ropes of Light spilling from Tori's hands. Every fallen warrior it touches goes rigid as she burns the poison from their veins with brutal efficiency. To her right, Marion directs flows of Light toward the varulv. Like the warriors, they light up. But the Light doesn't Heal the varulv. It burns them from existence.

They die with pained screams that bounce back from the trees in eerie distortions. Dozens surge toward the fiery nimbus around the Valkyrie, trying like hell to bring them down, but as soon as they touch their Light, they burn too. As if they never stood at all.

And yet more pour through the Portal, a never-ending flood of them, sent to bring us down and take the Bifröst. Gods. How many are there? An entire army of Darkness, sent to deliver Valhalla and the Bifröst into the hands of the Forsaken.

The Light around Krandriel fades. He falls back, gasping and shivering.

"Good Gods," he gasps, choking on a groan as he rolls to his side. "I've never felt anything like that."

"Ja, but you're alive."

And that's precisely the problem, isn't it?

I glance around the battlefield to see the same scene unfolding for warrior after warrior. Every single one that fell shivers and groans, held to life by Tori's ability to Heal what was a death sentence before she was spun out by the Norns. The Valkyrie adamantly refuses to let a single one of the warriors die. They're all that's left of the Fae, all that remains of a realm that fell long ago, destroyed in a war humanity never even knew toname. The Valkyrie will fight like hell to keep every last Fae life intact, because as much as the Fae are stewards of Valhalla…the Valkyrie are stewards of every soul here.

These are their people, and Tori refuses to lose a single one to the Dark.

But fate demands a sacrifice. And destiny requires the impossible. Even if the price is life.

A pang goes through me. Of regret. Of guilt. Of pure determination.

"Forgive me, Valkyrie," I whisper, hauling myself to my feet. I spin around, searching for the nearest varulv.

The gray and white beast is massive, with blood still dripping down his muzzle. In another life, we might have been friends, united by the incredible Valkyrie who walks between worlds—the dainty little princess who rules my world. But that was before he fell to the Dark.

I drop myímun-laukrto the ground, charging toward him.

"Stephan!" Kara screams, though if I hear her voice echoing around me or down the bond she forged between our souls, I don't know.

Forgive me, princess.

I plow into the varulv.

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