Page 35 of Court of Heathens

It’s as if I’m seeing it all for the first time, even though I have seen it a thousand times. How is it possible that things I took for granted now seem important after meeting her? The call of the trees, the butterflies floating around me . . . She made me see the world again, and someone who understands the beauty of life doesn’t deserve to be destroyed simply for what could happen in the future.

Maybe it’s foolish, but I don’t care. Like Mors, I am taking a leap of faith and trusting my emotions.

Turning away from the beauty, I summon a portal with my mind and step through it as I walk through my island. I’m going to keep an eye on her just in case.

That’s the only reason why.

When I reappear outside her house, it’s early morning. Stepping silently inside, I take in the changes in the room. It remains the same, the same earthy scent mixed with the herbs of her spells, but there is a new smell that’s quite distinct.

My nose crinkles as my eyes land on a cage in the corner.

Am I too late?

Has she already sunken into the power and been consumed? The creature in the cage is one I have seen many times back during the dark wars. They were used as soldiers and cannon fodder by the necromancers trying to stop our cull. We ripped them apart as easily as paper, though they were strong fighters, but more simply replaced them.

This one, however, looks old and forgotten, lacking power like those soldiers. Is she simply figuring it out, or was this done by someone else? I have to know.

I find her sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

“Phrixius?” It’s one of the only times she has said my name, and I cherish it, the sleepy rumble going straight to my heart.

How can evil look so beautiful?

“Holy shit!” She leaps to her feet, stumbling as she stares wide-eyed at me. Her hair is braided, creating two horns on her head. “It is you, but how? Why? I freed you. The spell worked—oh gods, are you here to take revenge?”

“Well, look what the gods dragged in,” the demon remarks as he sits up. “Couldn’t come at a more sociable hour? I was having great dreams about my little witch’s mouth—” He’s flung through the wall, even as he laughs.

Freya watches me. Her eyes are still bright, and her skin is the same. She doesn’t look like she has given in. So what’s with the creature?

“I apologise for the time. It shifts differently here than in my realm.” My eyes land on the zombie again. “I see you have been busy.” I word it carefully, and as the demon climbs out of the hole his body made, I meet his gaze. He shakes his head, and I let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t her.

If not her, then who?

“You don’t know the half of it,” the demon calls, “but it’s too early for this shit. If we are going to discuss the world ending, I need coffee.”

I gape. “Wait, the world ending?”

“Yeah, just another Tuesday—wait, Wednesday, right?” He chuckles.

“You’re back,” is all Freya blurts.

“Caffeine would be good, I think,” I respond, rubbing the back of my head, more confused than ever.

Sipping the coffee, my only human vice—well, that and my desire for the little witch sitting opposite me—I can’t help but sigh deeply. “So a necromancer stole the mask, you tracked it to the zombie, and now you are keeping it to see?”

“Don’t forget the hand,” the demon reminds me.

Freya nods rapidly, still staring at me, and she leans in. “Why are you back?” She shares a look with the demon, who snorts knowingly. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but?—”

“Are you happy to see me?” I ask, sitting up taller.

“Well, yes.” She blushes. “Anyway, you’re back. Why?”

“To check on you.” I shrug. “So, anything else new other than a necromancer clearly out to start the dark wars again and capture the power in this world?” They both share a guilty look, and I sigh. “Spit it out.”

“Well, when I was freeing you, I might have accidentally . . . freed something else,” Freya offers with a tight smile.

---