Page 42 of Definitely Dead

Then everything went quiet. Even the whispers stopped, plunging him into the kind of eerie silence that squeezed and suffocated.

“Tyr?” he called into the gloom.

That revoltingly sweet aroma intensified, reminiscent of spoiled honey drizzled over something long dead. The putrid stench invaded his nostrils and clogged his throat, provoking a violent gag that made his eyes water. Saliva flooded his mouth when his stomach revolted, forcing bile back up his esophagus, but he swallowed thickly, refusing to give in to his body’s weakness.

“It’s not real,” he told himself. “It’s just a trick.”

Another illusion. Another mindfuck, courtesy of the damned forest, meant to keep him on edge, afraid, and paralyzed.

He took a step, then another, putting one foot in front of the other, his confidence growing when nothing horrible happened.

Until it did.

Something hard and sticky slammed into him from the side, the impact lifting him off his feet and sending him sailing through the air. He smashed into the thick trunk of a nearby tree, the bark scraping against his hands and cheeks, then crumpled to the ground with a wet thud.

He wheezed out a sharp breath as the air was forced from his lungs, but he didn’t have time to collect himself or regroup. Rolling through the mud, he pushed into a semi-upright position and scrambled away from the path, crab-walking until his shoulder blades met with the tree again.

It emerged from the fog, silent, predatory.

Prowling through the mist, it towered over him like an inky shadow, its black fur matted and patchy, revealing the rotting flesh that sloughed in sheets from its body. Stark white vertebrae protruded from the skin along its spine, and its face had disintegrated in places, revealing a misshapen skull beneath.

Once upon a time, it might have been a wolf, but only in the loosest sense of the definition.

The beast’s lips had rotted away, leaving only rows of sharp, yellowed teeth tinged in red and dripping with things Sunne would rather not contemplate. Every breath sounded like a death rattle, a garbled huff that caused black foam to bubble at the corners of its gaping mouth.

Sunne pressed himself against the tree, his heart pounding in his ears and thudding against his sternum. The fact that he was already dead did nothing to lessen the chilling terror that consumed him.

The Whisper Woods were supposed to be a place of eternal punishment. Being ripped apart by a hellspawn didn’t feel all that eternal, meaning he would likely survive the attack, and somehow, that was even more horrifying.

Would he become like the wolf? Wandering the forest while he slowly rotted from the inside out? Or would he simply respawn like some unhinged video game, only to repeat the process again and again until he went mad?

His breaths came in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving as he struggled to come to terms with his own impending fate. The wolf crept closer, its crimson eyes burning with a feral light that promised pain. Though it moved silently, every step seemed to echo throughout the forest like a ticking clock.

He squeezed his eyes closed, unable to face the inevitable, but the darkness didn’t bring relief. Instead, it became a blank canvas for his imagination to paint the carnage that awaited him.

Time slowed, stilled, each second dragging out into an eternity. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the beast closing in, could smell the decay on its breath. He clawed at the sodden earth, his fingers digging into the mud as he grasped for something real to hold on to.

And then there was silence. A final, deafening pause before the world exploded around him.

Branches snapped and trunks splintered, the ancient trees bowing to the raw power that ripped through the forest. Then a loud, primal roar rent the air, echoing through the mist like a thunderclap that shook the ground and sent a shiver through the woods.

Startled out of his panic, Sunne’s eyes snapped open, and his lips parted in a silent scream as dirt, leaves, and rotted wood exploded out of the darkness. The reprieve from sudden death triggered survival instincts that had been rendered numb, and he launched to his feet to dive behind the tree. Crouched away from the danger, he peeked around the massive trunk, his body primed for flight as he watched the battle rage.

At least eight feet tall at the withers and covered in glistening ebony fur, the bear charged out of the woods like a dark, vengeful god. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend around his hulking frame, and the atmosphere crackled as it reacted to his fury.

But Sunne wasn’t afraid, not anymore. Salvation had arrived in a blur of fangs and claws…and one very pissed off mate.

Grunts, growls, and threatening chuffs rang out, and blood painted the nearby trees as the beasts bit and clawed at each other. Again and again, they came together in a clash of teeth and rage, rolling across the ground and slamming into trees as they vied for dominance, for victory.

Though brutal, the fight didn’t last long, concluding with a fearsome roar and an ear-splitting howl, the latter cut off abruptly with hollow finality.

“You can come out now,lelien,”Tyr whispered into his mind a few moments later.

Still shaking, Sunne stepped out from behind the tree and took a reluctant step back onto the path.“Is it dead?”

The bear—his mate—chuffed, almost like a laugh, as it turned to face him.“Of course. Did you doubt me?”

“Not even for a second.”Rushing forward, he wrapped his arm around the creature’s front leg and burrowed into the thick fur.“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

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