Page 173 of Daughter of the Serpent

Playing pretend, playing by the rules - wouldn’t matter now.

She had made an enemy of them all.

Rederick’s face flashed in her mind then, stern and unforgiving. The elders, stiff - backed and whispering in shadows.Haldor’s voice - coiled and cold - still echoed in her ears. Her breath shuddered out of her, as her bubble of bliss burst.

This wasn’t just about gods. This was now fully about survival.

And she would need every ounce of strength the gods could spare her.

“You don’t want to go back, do you…” Axel’s voice cut gently through the silence.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let herself look at him - really look. The way his brow furrowed, the way the morning light played in his hair, the concern in his eyes that he tried, and failed, to mask. Her heart ached.

How much longer would she have with him?

How many more stolen moments would they share before they parted?

“What if they come for me?” she whispered. The words tasted like ash. Fear curled in her chest, slow and suffocating.

“Let them try.” His voice was sharp this time, a low growl beneath his breath. Her eyes followed the motion as he pulled on his leathers, disappointment blooming low in her stomach at the loss of his bare skin.

“But if I don’t show - if I don’t make the sacrifices, won’t I risk the gods’ disfavor?”

Axel didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted over her, like he was choosing his words with care.

“The Hazier never had idols.” He said finally, “No temples carved from stone. We prayed to the mountains. To the sky, the sea. We gave our reverence with our hands, our voices, our breath. We never believed it meant anything to bow to statues carved by men.”

His words settled over her like mist. If anyone else had spoken them aloud at the temple, it would be blasphemy. But Axel never was one to sugar - coat his words. That was what she admired most - his unwillingness to bend, to shrink, to pretend. His defiance was rooted, like the old trees around them - refusing to move, no matter how hard the wind howled. And as she stood there, with earth beneath her barefeet and salt in the air from the crashing waves beyond the trees, she felt the truth laced in his words.

The gods werehere, not in the temple. But all around them - in the shifting breeze that combed through her hair, in the sharp scent of pine and sea salt, in the steadiness of the land beneath her feet.

And now, standing in this place with him, the truth rang loud.

She could return to the temple, bow her head before the very man who wanted her dead, the elders who wished her ill will, and murmur her prayers beneath idles carved of wood and stone.

Or she could go straight to the source.

“You’re right.” She turned her gaze skyward, her pulse steadying. “The gods. I feel them…not in the temple,” she said. “But here.”

She met Axel’s eyes.

She didn’t know if the gods would hear her prayers.

She didn’t know if they’d answer.

But she would offer them her honesty, her presence, her hope.

Because tomorrow -

Tomorrow, everything would change.

“I’ll make my offerings here.”

Axel’s eyes flickered - something soft, something approving. He gave a single nod.

“Will you show me the way of your people?” she asked, her voice low. “The way they pray?”

He stepped toward her, and the world seemed to narrow. The heat of him spilled over her skin with his shadow, curling around her like a welcome embrace. His eyes held hers as his fingers rose, brushing against the flesh just above her heart - so light, yet she felt it everywhere.

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