69. Danica

Danica

69

A s we fall,Rhyland's instincts kick in—he pulls me close, his arm locking around me like iron bands. His body becomes my shield; his embrace is a fortress as we tumble into the void, bracing for whatever comes next.

In an agile maneuver that defies his size,Rhylandtwists midair, an act of preternatural reflexes ensuring his body bears the brunt of our uncontrolled descent. We impact with fierce intensity, a harsh thud capturing the moment of collision. An audible 'oomph' escapesRhylandas I inadvertently land on top of him, the air pushed from his lungs upon the packed snow. His body absorbs the shock, sparing me from what could have been a crushing conclusion to our fall.

For a suspended heartbeat, relief floods me, warm and dizzying. I'm unscathed, cocooned in the arms of my vampire who's just cheated death—or at least grievous injury—for us both.

"Nice catch!" I quip, the irony of our situation not lost on me. "But next time, let's aim for a feather bed, shall we?"

I brush the hair from my face, trying for levity even as the echo of our fall fades in the strange, dark void we've found ourselves in.

Rhyland's groan is half in discomfort, half in exasperated affection. "I told you…" he grunts, trying to sit up, "to get to the other side. Why don't you ever listen?" he chides.

"I'm sorry—I couldn't just let you fall! Besides, where's the fun in always doing what I'm told? Admit it—you're secretly thrilled to have played hero again, even if it means a few more bruises," I retort with a playful edge to my voice, unable to resist poking fun at the situation even as we lay in a heap of snow at the bottom of who-knows-where.

Rhyland's agitation sears through his usually cool demeanor, a fiery protector chastising my recklessness. "I'm immortal, woman . I could've taken that fall and walked away without a scratch. But you—shit, if I hadn't done what I did, you could've died!"

His fury is a tempest, fierce and justified. I realize it's time to fill him in on my recent celestial power-up courtesy of the Atherite stone and its restorative gifts.

"Yeah—about that…" I trail off, acknowledging the conversational bomb I'm about to drop on him.

The darkness enveloping us is as thick as ink. I conjure an orb of radiant light which blooms from my hand, pushing back the shadows.

With the impromptu lantern illuminating our cavern, I focus onRhyland, eager to assess his condition. The light reflects off his rugged features, giving his ocean-blue eyes an ethereal glow. Now that I can see him clearly, I start looking for any injuries that might have gone unnoticed in the adrenaline-fueled tumble.

"Yo, you still breathing down there, or has the allure of the underworld finally seduced you into its cold, clammy embrace?"Lucianshouts, the sound bouncing off the walls like a drunk acrobat on a trampoline. "Give us a sign if you haven't kicked the proverbial bucket yet, or I'm calling dibs on your worldly possessions! Finder's keepers and all that happy horseshit."

From our unintended landing spot, I raise my voice, "I swear to god,Lucian, if you touch my stuff, I'll haunt your undead ass for all eternity!" I holler back, my voice echoing through the cavern like a pissed-off banshee on steroids. "And for the record, we're still very much alive, you asshat."

"About what?"Rhyland's tone is a mix of confusion and vulnerability. He tugs gently, bringing me back down to his steady frame, his hand brushing my hair from my face—his gaze locking with mine in search of clarity.

Nestled atop him again, I take a deep breath and launch into the tale of my heavenly intervention and the Atherite stone's enchantment. "So, it turns out the new stone blessed me with a bit of an upgrade," I start, with a knowing look that says 'brace yourself.'

I divulge everything—the glowing power of the Atherite Stone, its healing capacities, and my newfound connection to it. His eyes reflect every facet of the story, a mix of incredulity and dawning awareness as the pieces fall into place. "Basically, I'm not as fragile as I used to be."

"And you figure now is the goddamn time to tell me this?" he shoots back sharply.

Everything happened so damn fast when I was given a celestial Uber back toRhyland. "I know…I know. But with everything that happened once I was brought back, it literally slipped my mind—I was going to tell you, but..." My voice trails off, the excuse sounding feeble even to my ears.

After all, how often does one get a divine lift to the heavens and angelic upgrades?

I searchRhyland's face for a hint of understanding, hoping he'll grasp the chaotic whirlwind that upended any chance for a proper debrief. It's not every day you get handed a heavenly lifeline, and you'd think someone might cut me some slack for not shouting it from the rooftops the second I touched down.

Rhyland's silence stretches out, his eyes devouring mine, but it is broken instantly. His lips crash against mine with an urgency that steals my breath away. It's like he's pouring every ounce of frustration and relief into the kiss, a silent conversation between our hearts that words can't capture.

"You drive me fucking crazy,k?ra," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to let the words tumble out, a growl threaded with vehement passion. "You know that?" Without waiting for an answer, he claims my lips again, more fiercely this time, and I respond with equal ferocity, our kiss becoming a battleground of raw emotion. "Fucking crazy. I want to punish you for what you do to me," his words dance between breathless kisses, each one landing like a spark on dry tinder.

With every searing kiss, I'm spelling out silent apologies and declarations of love, a torrent of pent-up feelings being released in how our lips move together.

Rhyland's voice is a raging roar of emotions. "You fucking push me to my limits, woman. Disobey my every command, make me go mad with worry." His fingers grip tightly in my hair. "My goddamn heart belongs to you, and you're the only one who can make my damn cock ache like no other—all at the same time."

His eyes lock onto mine, fierce and aflame, each syllable a testament to his unguarded truth—a cocktail of frustration, fear, love, and overpowering attraction that I seem to stir up within him effortlessly. With every word, his grip tightens as if he could merge our very beings to quell the storm of feelings I evoke.

There's a thrill, a delicious sense of power in knowing I can melt this formidable, age-old Viking vampire into a puddle of longing with just the right amount of teasing and defiance. Yet, in equal measure, there's a profound comfort in his dominance, a heady desire for the strength and protection his vampire nature so ardently provides. This dynamic, a dance of push and pull, makes us who we are—two halves of a passionate, fiery whole.

I can see the storm of emotions in his deep blue eyes, the tempest of fury and betrayal tied toAdrian's actions.

"I know you're mad at me aboutAdrian," I start cautiously but determined. "But I truly believe he can help us—redeem himself. I love you, and I'm sorry for going against—"

I manage to sputter, but the rest of my confession gets cut off as he takes my words hostage with his lips again.

"Do me a favor and shut that pretty mouth,Angel," he murmurs in a low rumble, lips brushing against mine.

His kisses are a force of nature, a relentless tempest that hijacks my senses. It's a full-on, no-holds-barred assault that doesn't waste time with flowery speeches or long-winded declarations. Nope, it's all about the raw, pulsating desire and an unspoken 'I know' seared into every sizzling touch.

I can readRhylandlike an open book—he's not the type to hold grudges or stay mad at me for long. He's more of an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of guy, and right now, his actions are screaming, 'I can't keep my hands off you, and I don't give a damn about our little tiff.' It's clear that fighting with me is way down on his list of priorities, somewhere between watching paint dry and attending a snail race. He'd much rather channel all that pent-up energy into more...pleasurable pursuits.

"No apologies. And believe me,Angel; your ass is in for some serious punishment,"Rhylanddelivers the promise with unmistakable authority, leaving no room for argument.

Before I can retort—

"Hate to be the proverbial turd in the punchbowl, lovebirds, but the rest of us up here are slowly morphing into goddamn ice sculptures while you two are busy making goo-goo eyes at each other!"Lucianshouts down, the sound echoing through the cavern like a smartass yodel. "Any chance we could crash this little lovefest, or is it a strictly VIP affair reserved for the horizontally inclined?"

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he continues, "Also, exactly how deep is this little love grotto of yours? Just trying to gauge whether I need to fetch a ladder or a fucking bungee cord to join the party."

Rhylandgroans, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "I swear, one of these days, I'm going to strangle him with his own intestines," he mutters, his breath hot against my skin.

"Get in line, babe," I chuckle, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before reluctantly untangling myself from his embrace. "Looks like we've got company, whether we like it or not."

"It's a damn stone's throw away,"Rhylandbarks out.

I crane my neck to peek at the gap we'd plunged through, channeling a beam of my light upward to gauge the distance what I'd optimistically estimated as a stone's throw stacks up to forty feet. That's a mini cliff, but I bet it's practically a hop, skip, and a casual leap for a vampire.

Lucian,Erik, andAdriandrop in with thuds that scream 'action heroes.' They carryFaderynandAxilya, aiming for tough but probably scoring a perfect ten in unintentional comedy.

I rise to my feet, brushing off the chill of the snow, and extend my hand toRhyland. With a solid tug, he's back on his feet beside me.

"Stick tight to my side; I'm fond of that…heat you're giving off,"Rhylandcommands, seizing my waist firmly.

My flames may have flickered out, but my internal wellspring of power hasn't stopped radiating warmth like a miniature sun burning bright inside my core.

"Of course, you've snagged prime real estate next to the mystical space heater. Must be nice, basking in the glow of your own personal inferno while the rest of us plebeians are left to freeze our asses off in the metaphorical cheap seats."Lucianjeers, rolling his eyes with a scoff that echoes his disdain for missing out on the warmth.

The collapsed trail above seals our fate, and the icy cave below is our reluctant new path. "We need to move," I assert, the chill of the cave urging haste. "I'm pretty sure there's a way through these tunnels."

I pause, shutting my eyes to concentrate, casting out my inner senses like a net, searching for that magnetic tug of the stone. It beckons me to the left with a nearly imperceptible pull, guiding me with invisible threads. Satisfied with the direction, I conjure a glowing orb of light and hurl it ahead into the gloom.

It bobs gently in the air, transforming the suffocating dark into a landscape of shadows and ice. The cavern ahead, narrow but manageable, unfurls before us. My homemade beacon is a makeshift flashlight, illuminating uneven walls and frozen formations.

We edge forward, tentative but resolute, my light leading the way deeper into the heart of the cave.

Traversing this frozen domain, we find ourselves ensnared in a world that time seems to have forgotten, an icy sepulcher untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It's a realm of eternal winter, where the heavy shroud of silence is so profound you become aware of the rhythm of your heartbeat, a solitary drum thumping in your chest, echoing in your ears.

We press forward, carving a path through the serpentine passageways of this wintry labyrinth. It's as if we're tracing the ghostly path of a river, long since surrendered to the cold's embrace. In places where the ceiling dips low, whispering secrets of eons past, we duck our heads, forming a tight procession, following the soft luminescence of my light.

Time turns elastic down here, each hour feeling like a marathon in slow motion, with nothing but the steady crunch-crunch of our boot-clad feet against the frosty floor to keep any semblance of time. Every now and then, I half-expect some ice-loving boogeyman to pop out for a "gotcha" moment—this place is prime real estate for a monster mash. But there's zip, zilch, nada; not even a snow flea to break the monotony. Guess the cave's cold shoulder is too much for the local wildlife.

Occasionally, I play my own version of tag, laying a fleeting touch here and there among my frost-nipped friends. It's my personal brand of 'warm-up service,' a little heat 'n' run to take the icy sting out of the air.

"May I speak?"Adrianpipes up after a long stretch of silence.

I glance over atRhyland, searching his face for clues about his thoughts. He meets my gaze with a look that screams he couldn't give a shit aboutAdrian's two cents, but he catches the hopeful curiosity in my eyes. With the slightest lift of his chin—a silent, begrudging yes—he gives me the nod. It's my go-ahead to listen to whateverAdrian's got to pitch.

"Sure," I toss the word toAdrianlike it's my last piece of gum.

"The Soul Stone," he launches in, all matter-of-fact. "It appears to be split into three pieces."

I knit my eyebrows together, puzzled. "And how did you trip over that tidbit?" I probe, curiosity piqued.

He exhales, the sound carrying the weight of ancient tomes. "It's in the Book of Shadows," he reveals as if talking about some bestseller.

"The Book of what now?" I raise an eyebrow; I can't say I've seen that on any bookshelf.

He's unphased. "There's a book for every realm," he says with the ease of someone discussing the weather.

"Okay…" I say, egging him on.

Adrianobliges, "In its pages, it speaks of the Soul Stone—a powerful entity tied to the essences of shadows, souls, and darkness. The text alludes to a secret: He who reunites the three will wield the ultimate power."

My scientist's curiosity, ever the driving force, kicks into gear asAdrian's words sink in. The Soul-Shadow Stone—shadows, souls, darkness—is the trifecta of power every good story warns you about.

Adrianspeaks with a blend of reflection and realization. "At first, I didn't grasp its significance," he admits. "I assumed it referred to three separatestonesor perhaps three powerful individuals. But now it clicks, especially after learning Amara had a piece and considering Azrael's pursuit of it. We couldn't connect with the realms until you came along... And with Azrael tapping into the realm here and discovering the shard—"

"It all adds up," I say, completing his thought with a cheeky nod. "Three shards, one whole stone—one big power-up. Classic!"

"You hold one piece,"Adrianreminds me, his voice as calm as a steady current.

Ah, yes. The little malignant jewel I've been safeguarding—a trinket of darkness, Amara's shard. It's just one part of the equation, like the initial ingredient in a cosmic recipe. Now, to secure Azrael's piece and sniff out the final shard, and then— voilà! The stone is complete, and there is another notch in my tiara.

"Do you think this piece I've got will pull any stunts for me?" I casually toss the question toAdrianas my foot skids on a treacherous patch of ice—swift as a shadow,Rhyland's there, his reflexes keeping me upright. "Thank you," I murmur to him, my appreciation whispered like a secret between us.

"Have you tried slipping it into your tiara?" he counters, a sliver of suggestion in his tone.

The notion had only just grazed the edge of my consciousness. "No... I haven't," I admit, feeling the cogs in my mind begin to whir at the fresh possibility. "The last thing I want is for that object to go soul-snatching—mine or anyone else's." My eyes shift toRhylandas I ponder the implications, seeking reassurance or a shared sense of concern in his gaze.

"Hmm…"Adrianintones, leaving his thoughts to hang in the air, cryptic and open.

But here I am, tangled in a knot of worry, cramping my style. What kind of wickedness could this gem dish out? Is it the soul-sucking type that can leave a girl feeling utterly unfabulous? And the big question: does someone have to give the go-ahead for it to vacuum up a soul, or does it work on some sick autopilot?

Then there's that sly little voice in my head—what if I'm the wild card?Adriansaid this thing's a personality amplifier—it could turn me into the diva of darkness or the saint of sunbeams. And let's face it, if anyone could rock an unholy relic with a side of sass, it's me. So, as my brain does the mental tango with a conga line of 'what-ifs,' I've got to wonder if each new thought is a door to disaster or just another walk-in closet waiting to reveal a universe of killer potential.

"Don't even think about playing hot potato with that wicked pebble. Not until we've given that piece of gravel the full Sherlock Holmes treatment, complete with a magnifying glass and a pretentious-as-fuck deerstalker hat,"Luciansnaps sharply, his advice laced with his characteristic blunt wit.

"I agree, Little Huntress,"Erikfinally interjects, his voice cutting through the silence after what feels like an eternity. His rare contribution, stoic and measured, carries a weight of solemnity.

We approach a fork in the tunnel, the bracing wind playing with my hair—a harbinger of the open air nearby. I sense the tug, an almost magnetic draw from the stone, guiding me. Instinctively, I veer to the right. "This way," I assert, trusting in the strange compass I've become.

Our footsteps echo with a crisp crunch against the frost-laden ground, the tunnel walls glistening like crystalline glass yet as unyielding as rock-hard ice. Drawn by a morbid curiosity, I press my light against the clear barrier and peer through. A chilling tableau meets my eyes—figures' faces etched with ageless expressions of terror and sorrow, forever captured within their icy prison. I can't help the gasp that escapes me, drawing the others to huddle around me for a closer look.

"These must be the Forest Fae,"Axilya's voice breaks the heavy silence, a note of somber realization in her tone. "They disappeared centuries ago."

I can't tear my gaze away from them—their wide, unblinking eyes revealing stories of fear and sadness. They're numerous, held captive by ice thicker than any vault door. Shaken, I manage to ask, "How? How did this happen?"

"When the realm split, it shattered the tranquility and equilibrium within this place. Thus, it earned the nameCrystal Peaks—a moniker born of the expansive frost that claimed this area and all who dwell here,"Axilyaexplains.

Axilya's deep knowledge sends ripples of intrigue through me. She's a repository of ancient truths, by the looks of it. Yes, she's been here long before our time, but there's a depth in her understanding that hints at more than mere longevity. It asks what her place in this realm's tapestry truly was before the schism that tore it apart. With histories stretching back eons, her experiences could be a key to untold secrets of the realm's past.

"Axilya, what exactly was your role before the realm fractured?" The words slip from my lips as if pushed by my ever-curious mind's volition.

My scientist's heart thrives on data and understanding, and here, in the presence of ancient mysteries and unanswered questions, the hunger for knowledge is all the more insistent.

Axilyagives a little theatrical shiver, not so much from the cold as for effect, and averts her gaze with a flourish of drama. "Shall we continue?" she suggests, her voice lilting with a hint of impatience. "I am rather chilled to the bone and would quite prefer to depart from this frosty gallery of the damned."

Her deflection from my probing question is almost as smooth as the ice encasing the Frozen Fae—almost.

Right, enough staring contests with the ice prisoners. With a dramatic flick of my hair, I pivot away from the eerie exhibit of frozen regrets, lead the charge through the icy labyrinth, and start our chilly trek. The ice tunnels? Zero trouble. Call it a lucky streak or just a boring hike, but it seems we're too cool for school—or at least too cool for cave drama.

Busting out from the sub-zero labyrinth, we crash-land into some enchanted tree party in the forest. These timber titans are so close together I half expect them to start doing the wave. The fog's been ditched, and now we've got this whimsical mist threading through the trees, giving off some severe fantasy vibes—as if we've stumbled onto the set of the next big-budget fairy tale flick. Who directed this place, Mother Nature or Spielberg?

My eyes scan the area, and then…there it is, a sight for sore eyes—just beyond the literal edge of our woody enclave stands the majesticCrystal Peaks. My smile broadens spontaneously, a little spark of triumph lighting up my face as I take in the sight.

"We made it," I announce with simple satisfaction.

The declaration holds more than words—it's a pat on the back for us all, a reminder that even the longest treks have their finish lines, and we just crossed one.