My heart aches for a home I cannot return to. At least, not yet - not until I've done what I need to do. But I still worry for Cassian, what he thinks of me now that I've gone. I wonder if he thinks I've abandoned him out of petty spite. Another part of me also wonders if I am too late, if he is already dead. Although, I know that is not so, because I would feel the string of our hearts snap. And I can only feel the string pull tighter the further I get.

The forest is full of birdsong, flitting around the canopy in a merry manner. Every leaf is a vibrant green, as if they have never seen a day of drought in their lifespan. Branches burst through the ground like thick snakes, with deep scaly bark. Omen treads carefully, although effortlessly.

My clothes still feel damp against my skin, and the shade of the trees isn't particularly favorable. But the hole in my caftan from where the icicle went through is still there, bloody and torn at the fabric. Except there is no wound to be found. It happened so quickly, I couldn't comprehend it until now.

Either I have my own magic or Erebus to thank for that.

The trees slowly spread out, becoming less clustered together. A dark clearing unfolds before us - random bits of cobblestone floor amongst the wet grass. A large circle opening, like an unlit portal, made of rubble lies ahead, with a platform of stone stairs leading up to it. I sense the same power humming within the air and the ground. Although I cannot see it - I can feel it. It isn't frightening... only awakening. As if it has been within my cells all along.

"Do you feel that, Omen?" I ask, in a lower voice than I intend. But something about such a place commands quiet.

He flicks his ears and snorts in response.

We walk through the portal, and I half expect something to happen. Something to light up, or erupt from the dirt. Instead, nothing. The birds have stopped singing, submerging the shaded forest into an uncanny silence.

The click of Omen's hooves are the only sound, and he doesn't seem to care that he's making the slightest noise. Ahead, a gaping cave is carved into the face of a hill, with vines draping down the front like a barrier. Omen slows to a stop. So I assume this must be where Víddar resides. I suppose I should've imagined something like this.

I slide off Omen's back and stroke the side of his neck. My feet move towards the cave naturally, even if a part of me is unwilling. I touch the hilt of my sword to make sure it's there, even though I know it is. It hasn't left my side.

I take my first step through the opening, feeling the instant coolness of its darkness. My body walks on, but I feel as though I'm not in it - that this is all some sort of dream. My hand traces the cold stone wall, damp moss decorating it. This tunnel leads on until a lighter room approaches, large and circular, with pillars of rotting stone in the shape of people holding up the dome-like ceiling. Grass grows in patches on the floor, alight with puddles of golden water. Dead in the center sits a throne, as ruined as the rest of it. Yet, Víddar is nowhere to be seen.

I come to a halt and turn on my heel, in case he is sneaking up behind me. The last thing I desire is another wound, even though they seemingly heal themselves. But perhaps that was luck from my powers, or a courtesy of Erebus. Either way, until I know it is reliable, I will deny my newfound strength.

The entire room echoes nothing but silence.

I narrow my eyes, still scanning my surroundings. "Víddar," I call out, commanding authority into my tone. Although, perhaps I shouldn't - for I have no idea what he is capable of, or if his temperament is anything like Nader's. "I come on behalf of Erebus." My voice resounds off the walls.

Nothing.

I draw my sword, the metallic hiss cutting through the air. My fingers wrap around the handle firmly, twitching to swing it at something. All my fights have been so forward - and mortal. Not knowing where the danger is unsettles me more than the beholder of it.

Where could he possibly -

A shrill, severe whiny breaks the quiet. Omen, I realise. My heart races and my feet follow - back through the tunnel. I dash out the opening, where a pack of big, black wolves circle around my horse. One snarls, lunging for him.

"No!" I yell, lunging forward and bringing my blade down upon the wolf's head. I feel the metal stick before slicing through.

Its huge, golden eyes bulge open as its head lands. I stand in front of Omen, sword bared, sticking it out against the growling pack of wolves. Their golden gazes flicker between their fallen friend's head and me.

"Stay back!" I shout, a smoky black trail appearing like apparitions from the path of my sword.

Omen neighs behind me, kicking his front legs up. The wolves snarl and snap forward, saliva flinging from their gnarly fangs. I keep my sword jutted out, pointing it at all of them that try to get close. Omen trots up to my side and bursts open his mouth, revealing a set of long, terrifyingly sharp fangs. His ear-splitting screech sends the wolves shifting back, unsure whether to fight or flee. His mouth falls back shut, as if it didn't just split open into an impossibly sharp set of jaws.

I didn't know he could do... that. Or that he looked like... that.

One of the wolves flicks its gaze at Omen, and then at me. It pounces. I shoot my free hand out, a black billow materializing from my palm. It swallows the wolf of the face whole - leaving sight of the bloody, messy insides of its neck. The rest of it slumps to the ground.

My eyes widen in horror, as do the rest of the wolves. They let out daunting howls, as if calling for more help. I back up closer to Omen, who stomps his hooves hard into the ground beside me, trying to warn them off.

But we both sense it - the thunderous steps of something greater than these beasts.

CRACK.

Several trees snap and fall ahead. A tall, dark beast breaks through them, its muscular torso emerging first. Thick tufts of dark green hair cover the rest of it. Talon-like claws push the outskirts of the forest aside, and the face of the beast appears from the dark.

I think it must be the devil, with the horn-like antlers protruding from its maned head. Except, it cannot be.

It's Víddar - and if anything, I am the devil here. Or at least the son of one.