Free Web NovelChapter 364: Chapter 364
Circe ran as fast as her leg could handle but her feet sank deep into the snow with every step further she took, slowing her momentum considerably. The forest stretched wide around her, the ground uneven beneath the white cover of freshly fallen snow as air stung her cheeks.
Branches clawed at her sleeves as she forced her way forward, lungs already burning, heart pounding too hard against her ribs. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
She did not know how long she had been running. Only that she could not stop.
A sound split the quiet behind her. She risked a glance over her shoulder and instantly regretted it.
Something was moving through the trees, too fast to track, a sharp blur of movement that shocked the air in her lungs. It flickered between trunks like a blur, closing the distance with impossible speed. And behind it, spreading outward and forward, came a roiling darkness. It poured through the forest floor and climbed the air itself, devouring the white of the snow. It advanced like a furious wave, like ink spilled across water, turning it as black as pitch.
She tore her gaze away and faced forward again. Faster. She had to move faster.
Her breath came out in ragged bursts, white fog clouding her vision. The path ahead offered no shelter, only more scattered trees and endless snow. Her legs felt heavy now, each stride slower than the last. The cold bit into her lungs, sharp and merciless.
Then she heard it. The deep, heavy beat of wings.
Once. Twice.
It was coming even closer than before. The sound filled the space above her. It was no longer behind her. It was overhead.
Pain gripped her chest. Fear heightened her senses and she pushed harder, using the last of her strength to propel herself forward. For one reckless second, she almost believed she might outrun it.
Her foot struck something solid beneath the snow. An exposed root.
The cut of it tore into her sole and sent her pitching forward. She hit the ground hard, snow bursting around her as the impact knocked the air from her. For a moment she could not breathe at all.
She could just lay there. She had to get up and run.
Circe pushed herself up with her hands, trying to rise but before she could, a violent gust of wind crashed around her, whipping her hair across her face and flattening the snow in a wide circle, shaking the leaves in the trees.
She looked back and saw that the darkness was now upon her.
It churned and folded in on itself, then parted. A figure stepped out from within it. A woman. Massive wings extended behind her, not fully spread. The air bent around her presence. Power radiated from her in waves that pressed against Circe’s skin and made her vision swim.
Circe tried to focus, but everything blurred. She could not see the woman’s face. Only the outline of her body and how tall she was.
The woman raised her hand. Darkness poured from her open palm, thick and fluid before hardening into shape. It lengthened, sharpened, solidified into a pitch-black sword that swallowed what little light touched it.
It happened too quickly. Circe barely had time to recoil before the woman moved.
In one clean motion, the blade came down on her and struck its mark. freewёbnoνel.com
***
Circe’s eyes flew open, and she bolted upright in bed, accidentally dislodging Ragnar’s hand from where it had been resting possessively over her hip.
It was just a dream. She repeated the words to herself like a mantra, willing them to steady her ragged breathing and the violent pounding of her heart. This was simply one of the many strange dreams she had been having as of late. That was all. Yet her mind refused to fully accept the reassurance.
Her dreams had stopped feeling like dreams for some time now, and she could not shake the lingering sensation that she had truly been there, trapped in that forest, hunted beneath a sky swallowed by large wings and shadows, at the mercy of that terrible creature.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths, as though she had truly been chased through the forest. The memory clung to her skin, too vivid to be dismissed as something conjured up by her subconscious. Even now she could almost hear the crack of branches beneath her feet, feel the cold air burning in her lungs, sense that looming presence just behind her.
She sat frozen, struggling to drag herself free from the terror that still held her in its grip, her limbs stiff and uncooperative, her fingers curled into the covers as if she needed something solid to tether her to the present.
She was so distracted by her efforts to calm herself that she did not notice that Ragnar was now awake beside her.
Only when he pushed himself up as well, his figure entering her blurred field of vision, did she realize he was now awake as well. The room around them was dimly, illuminated only by the faint, flickering glow of a single candle.
Ragnar reached for her, placing both hands firmly on her shoulders. It was only then that she became aware of the tremor running through her body.
His hands moved slowly upward, sliding from her shoulders to the sides of her neck and then higher still, until he cupped her face in his palms. The warmth of his touch drew her attention away from the panic tightening around her chest like a vise. She forced herself to focus on him. On the steady pressure of his hands. On his eyes, dark and filled with concern as they searched her face.
"You’re alright," he said softly, his tone gentle, careful, as though speaking to a frightened animal he did not wish to startle. He did not crowd her, did not overwhelm her with questions. He simply remained there, trying to comfort her however he could. "You are here, with me."
The words cut through the haze clouding her thoughts. Her mind seized them, and clung on to them.
She was not in that forest, she reminded herself silently. She was here. With him.
Her breathing remained quicker than usual, but it began to slow, each inhale less jagged than the last. The panic did not vanish all at once; it receded gradually, like a tide drawing back from shore. For the first time since waking, she could think clearly.
Awareness returned in fragments.
The scent of woodsmoke from the hearth. The unfamiliar room.
She turned her head, glancing around the dim space, trying to place where they were.
She was here with Ragnar... but where was here? This was not their bedchamber at the manor.
Then memory returned fully. She remembered their long journey yesterday and then cottage he brought her to.
Understanding settled over her, and she looked back at her husband. He had not taken his eyes off her. The worry etched across his features was unmistakable, carried not only in his expression but in the tenderness of his hold.
"What happened?" he asked when he saw the tension beginning to leave her. "Was it another nightmare?"
His hands slid down from her face to rest once more on her shoulders.
She nodded, a small, hesitant motion. Her voice still felt unreliable, lodged somewhere deep in her throat. She swallowed, knowing a simple nod would not be enough, not when it was clear that this dream had troubled her so deeply.
"Are they like the ones you’ve been having before?" he asked, confusion threading through his concern.
She shook her head lightly.
"I have been having strange dreams," she admitted quietly, her voice steadier now, though still subdued, "but I do not believe Dena has anything to do with these ones."
She paused, holding his gaze. The admission she had kept to herself for days pressed forward, demanding to be spoken aloud. Even now she still wasn’t sure of what to make of it.
"I am not fully certain," she continued at last, "but... I think I saw your mother in one of them."
