Cold.

She was ice cold, inside and out.

And something was wrong.

With a shudder, she jerked awake. She had dozed off in the saddle, the sway of the mare’s slow pace a lulling rock. Rain was soaking her and the mare. That’s what had awoken her.

She lifted the hood of the fur lined cloak and shivered in the chill drizzle, letting the water wash the blood from her hands. The dim light said that she was mere hours from sundown.

How long had she ridden? Down the hill she could see Lightholde, the spires of the city soaring in the waning blue sky.

Hrulinar was quiet, tactfully ignoring her, curled into the small space of her mind that he seemed to occupy when trying to brood.

That suited her just fine. He had hidden this remnant of Shadesorrow from her, wrapping himself around it to hide it. Only when he had wandered far away, to the camp, had he left it undefended, uncovered. She hunched her shoulders in the rain and nudged the mare back onto the track, urging her into a quicker pace.

He had hidden this from her.

Why?

What was the harm in using it if it was already there? It had saved them, afterall.

We could have handled that, you and I. Without…

He flashed her images of what he had seen from inside her. Memories of what she had done and the bitter, stark rage she had tapped into while murdering the men.

We had it under control. He said again.

She ignored him. The darkness felt like a soothing balm to her anger and rage that she had kept carefully tamped down. Letting it out, replacing it with the cold nothing of Shadesorrow was a relief.

You’ve been hiding it from me. She accused him but her internal voice was devoid of emotion. When you left my body to track them, you had to unfurl from around that shard, didn’t you? You couldn’t stretch yourself out thin enough to cover it.

He didn’t answer right away and she continued down the slow slope toward the city. The rain soaked her, washing the blood from her hands and pants. She tilted her face into the sky, letting the water wash across her face.

And you can see why. He said finally, but his anger was rising. You can see why I didn’t want you to realise what she had left inside you. It isn’t a gift! It’s dangerous. She’s dangerous! She doesn’t want justice or even retribution. She just wants death and nothing will stop her. You can’t use her power without her knowing. She will always have sway over your human heart.

She ignored him again. Maybe she should have always ignored him.

But that wasn’t fair, was it? He had saved her from losing herself when Shadesorrow had been released. He had wound himself tightly around her to protect and hide her from the dark goddess and she had been so thankful for his care. She had accepted his power, his help, and had worked in perfect harmony with him.

Until…

Until that darkness had gleamed, like liquid night, beckoning her to taste it.

She felt him pull away from her and coalesce, but it tugged painfully this time, as though ripping off a bandage from a fresh wound. She gasped, clutching at her chest.

He pulled on the reins, stopping the mare.

As a man, shimmering with the soft verdant glow she was used to, he looked up at Alira and his anger and disappointment were truly the most devastating she had ever seen. His face was human, almost. The beauty in it was slightly flawed, something about how his eyes weren’t depthless anymore.

She noted that the rain passed through him but he still was vain enough to make his hair wet, the silk shirt he wore nearly see-through as the rain fell. His red curls darkened, now more blood-like, clinging to his bare neck and face as she stared up at her. The green fire of his eyes burned into her and she suddenly felt the shame he had been waiting for.

Tears, unbidden, unexpected and wholly unwelcome fell, disguised by the rain. She did not break their gaze but he remained silent. She had been angry and she had tried to hide it from him, because that rage and anger and pain shamed her. It shamed her that when she saw Miriam she didn’t think, she just acted, and her instinct wasn’t to save the remaining women, it had been to ruin all the men that had taken them.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she sobbed, finally covering her face with her still bloody hands.

“Because I knew the anger you carried. I saw how shallow your control over it was. Because I knew you’d use that power. Erin would have.”

Her head snapped up as though he had slapped her. The darkness whispered her name and she ignored it.

“Don’t,” she warned him as tears continued down her face.

“Either you want the truth or you don’t. Not both!” He snapped.

“I’m sorry,” she said and truly meant it. “It was there…”

“And she knows how to break humans,” he said angrily. “She knows the best way to turn you from the Light.”

“I thought you didn’t like the Light,” she said petulantly. His silence as he glared at her made her wipe her face and frown at him. “Well?”

“I think that perhaps,” he said, an angry frown still on his face. “Maybe Aethra is wrong.” Surprise flicked her eyes wide and she froze. He held her gaze, his jaw clenched. It had cost him something to admit that to her.

“About?” she asked sheepishly.

“The Light,” he said succinctly. “When she sent me to Earth,” he said haltingly, as though recalling a painful memory. “She already knew that mankind had started to forget her.” He turned and pulled the mare forward, walking slightly ahead as they continued. He was silent again, his image shimmering in the drizzle of rain.

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“And then she sent Shadesorrow to end the war against the Light but The Mother knew, even then…the futility of that action. That humans had found some new, shinier thing and Aethra was no longer needed.

“And when a Deity no longer has the faith of the people, they fade. But…” he slowed again, letting the mare pass him and drawing up next to Alira. He looked up into her eyes and she felt the sadness there.

“She also knew that if she ended mankind quickly…” and suddenly Alira understood. The Mother had not sent a fix for a blight. She had sent the blight itself. She knew her throne in the Spirit Vale was under threat, that she was doomed, The Father and the Light were encroaching, and so she had sent the last weapon she had.

“Shadesorrow was meant to send every soul to Aethra, to keep her power intact. To bolster her in the Vale so she might withstand the Light.” Hrulinar said, taking Alira’s hand as he walked beside her. “Shadesorrow was meant to unmake everyone but she saw a world that she wanted for herself, Aethra be damned. The Witches were her army, the Light her enemy but the world was hers to claim and Aethra could not stop her.”

“The Morinn are Shadesorrow’s Witches,” Alira said quietly. “But until them, the Witches were Aethra’s…”

“The Light isn’t unnatural,” he said suddenly and something inside her thrummed proudly as he admitted this painful truth. “It merely fills the void Aethra herself had left. She hadn’t given man anything new, anything worth striving for. For her, the world was black and white: man and nature, life and death, worshipping her or nothing. She…failed you.”

“But we’re not black and white creatures,” she said and the rain nearly drowned out her whisper. “We are complicated, full of life and Light…”

“The Light is man finding their own Divinity, reaching within for the right to exist, instead of asking something else, far removed from them. They created The Father as the embodiment of that Light and he is fractured, living inside each person. But he himself isn’t a real Divine being, not like Aethra. He’s just the Light, just man’s capacity for hope, love, forgiveness, and retribution.”

As he spoke, Alira fanned the flames of the Light inside her, letting it flow into her skin. Where her flesh met his, the rain steamed but he held tightly.

“She made a mistake,” Alira said and he nodded, watching the way the Light and the rain and his green glow interacted in their hands. “So now what?”

“Now Shadesorrow reaps the souls and keeps them instead of sending them to Aethra.”

A heavy weight dropped into her stomach and she clenched his hand even tighter. He squeezed back, understanding her thoughts.

“And those I…”

“Her first prize.”

“What have I done?” she gasped and clasped her hand to chest. “What can she do with these souls?”

“I’m not sure. When Aethra claims a soul, they live as flowers in her Garden, forever worshipping her sunshine, eternally giving her the power she needs to thrive. When Shadesorrow claims a soul…” he stopped and looked up at her again. “We need to stop her.”

“Yes,” Alira breathed, images of the torment of millions of souls whirlwinding in her mind.

“Erin knew Aethra was wrong,” he said. “She told me once that I was lucky to escape the Spirit Vale before Aethra’s fall. At the time, I figured it was Morinn nonsense, something that Shadsorrow had taught them to say. But…” He shrugged, and let go of her hand, swinging onto the mare behind her.

He put his arms around her tightly, pulling her warmth to his coolness. Her skin prickled with the sudden relative warmth at her back instead of the cold rain.

“I can think better when I’m separate from you,” he said in explanation. His voice vibrated into her as he spoke. “Your human needs are annoying.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, half serious but he shrugged again, squeezing her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that remnant. And I’m sorry I never helped you with your pain.”

She was quiet following his apologies, her body still, her heart racing. She blinked back tears.

“And I’m sorry that you have to fix…everything.” He rested his forehead on her shoulder, slumped against her. “Whatever she does with souls, they deserve it,” he whispered into her neck as he turned his head. “I’m sorry, Alira.”

His admissions, apologies and honesty mended a piece of her that she didn’t know needed help until that very moment.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting his regret with magnanimity. “I appreciate that.”

After a few minutes of riding, his cool face pressed into her neck, she sighed.

“If you don’t think the Light is wrong,” she began slowly. “Why does it hurt you?”

He lifted his head from her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to her ear before answering.

“It’s man-made.” He shrugged. “I’m not meant to have anything to do with mankind. I’m the Prince of Beasts, pet.”

“But surely Aethra intended you to interact with humans? To help build a relationship with nature? Wouldn’t she have considered that you could be in danger of the Light if she was?”

“I think Aethra’s scope of vision was narrow when she made me.” He said simply and the silence stretched for several minutes before he continued. “I was made before she realised the threat that the Light posed. I was always in the Garden, tending souls. I was…happy there. But here,” he paused again, drawing in a sharp gasp as he remembered. “Here, I was free. I was wholly free. I raced, ran, swam, flew…I was not bound to a duty, really. I was told to forge the respect for nature that man had lost but…” he shrugged sheepishly behind her. “Nothing made me want to approach humans. They weren’t wild anymore, they had nothing free inside them. And besides, no one could check on me. Aethra had let me loose into the world with no way to ensure I did as she asked.”

“But why is the Light so harmful to you? I don’t understand.”

“Because I am wild. I am not meant to be tamed by man,” he said darkly and she remembered the obedient and false love he had worshipped Erin with. “The Light is man’s own Divinity made real. I am Aethra’s son, made of the same thing as her. No two Divine beings can rule together, it’s one or the other. The Father or The Mother. And I’m a shred of Aethra, cast into the…” he slowed and stopped. He was quiet for a long time.

“Hrulinar?” She turned to see his face, leaning in the saddle. His face was blank, his eyes wide and his breathing was quick.

“She knew. Always knew…” He blinked rapidly and locked eyes with her. “She hoped that sending me away would stop the Light from eradicating her completely. Shadesorrow was the first line of defence, and I was the backup plan.”

“As long as you live, the Light cannot take her place,” Alira said as she turned back around. He drew her close again, pressing his face into her neck once more. He seemed to breathe her in, taking strength from her.

“Where do the souls go that aren’t Aethra’s, such as the paladins?”

“The Tome,” he said as if it were obvious.

“What do they do there? What power do they give the Father by being there?”

“The paladins use it as a font. The High Lords are the conduit.”

“So…the souls are kept there until the Light can ascend and take over the Vale?” she asked, trying to work out the complicated system that the Divine had in place.

“Yes,” Hrulinar said into her neck. His breath was almost warm against her skin now.

“Shadesorrow can only take the souls that are unmade?”

“All souls belong to Aethra or the Light unless unmade, yes. What she reaps, she keeps.”

He had admitted that Aethra’s rule was over, or as good as. He had said that the Light had a place, a just place in the order of the world and what lay beyond it. Tacitly, he had admitted that the Light should inherit the afterlife, the Vale. The implications of what he was saying…

“And do you think Aethra is gone?”

“I do, yes. I think her power waning was what allowed me to be captured by the Witches,” he said solemnly. “Being as tied to her as I am, when she…died…I was left vulnerable.”

“Where are the souls going, then, if there’s no one left to tend them?”

“I have some ideas, but nothing for certain,” he said evasively.

“The Light could stop Shadesorrow,” Alira declared. “It’s powerful enough. It almost did it once, it can do it again.”

He nodded in agreement and she felt him shudder. She didn’t say aloud what she was thinking but her heart was beating painfully.

Hrulinar, Son of Nature, First of Aethra, Prince of Beasts, demi-god and Alira’s other half was all that kept the Light from ascending to its rightful place and vanquishing Shadesorrow.