Kyralia's breath caught in her throat as the creature's claws dug into the back of her neck, its sharp tips pressing dangerously close to her skin. The pain was a dull throb, not yet enough to break the surface, but the raw power of the creature was undeniable. She had been fighting the creature for no more than a few minutes before the beast got the upper hand and ripped her from the ground, hurling her through the air with terrifying force. She felt herself propelled toward the barn, the world spinning around her as she crashed through the barn doors with a deafening impact. The wood splintered around her as she tumbled to the ground, dazed but conscious.

Nathanial stood frozen in shock, unable to process what had just happened. The woman he had just met was dead. No one could survive a force like that. His heart raced as he saw the giant creature, looming in the night like something out of a nightmare. A primal rage ignited in him, snapping him out of his confusion. He notched an arrow and fired, but it did little more than embed itself in the beast's back. The creature barely flinched, its crimson eyes glowing menacingly in the darkness as it surveyed him, its hulking form standing tall like a man but with the ferocity of a wolf.

"A Wulver..." Nathanial's voice trembled as he recognized the mythical creature. His mind raced, the stories from his youth flashing before his eyes. But there was no time for fear, only the drive to get revenge. He quickly readied another arrow, determination fueling his every move. But before he could release it, a massive wooden cart hurtled through the air with a speed so unnatural, that Nathanial barely had time to react. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the projectile. The cart collided with the Wulver with a thunderous crash, splintering into a thousand pieces as the creature was sent flying back.

Nathanial hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him for a brief moment. His body screamed in pain, but the sharp, white-hot ache in his leg demanded his attention. He looked down to see a large shard of wood lodged deep into his side, blood seeping from the wound. But he pushed the pain aside, his gaze snapping to the barn, where he saw Kyralia standing tall, alive and unharmed, a determined look in her eyes.

The Wulver, enraged but undeterred, shook off the attack as if it were nothing. Its primal roar split the night air, filling the village with an overwhelming sense of dread. Its eyes darted between Kyralia and Nathanial, the creature's focus now fixed on the weaker of the two. Kyralia didn't need to look twice to understand—the beast had set its sights on Nathanial, and it was coming for him next.

"Run!" Kyralia's voice rang out, her words barely cutting through the air as the creature lunged toward Nathanial, claws raised to strike. Nathanial squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact, but she wasn't about to let him fall. With a burst of speed that seemed almost inhuman, she shot forward, raising her sword just in time. The beast's claws clashed against the metal with a deafening clang, sending a shock through her arms as she fought to hold the creature back.

"Move!" She shouted, gritting her teeth as she pushed with all her might, forcing the beast back. Nathanial, still dazed from the close call, scrambled to his feet. Pain shot through his leg, but he ignored it, limping behind Kyralia as she continued to battle the creature.

She swung her sword with expert precision, blocking the monster's strikes. The sound of claws against steel filled the air, each strike sparking as the claws scraped against her blade. Nathanial watched in awe—her movements were fluid, graceful, and deadly. She landed a few hits, slashing across the creature's arms, legs, and chest. But the wounds weren't deep enough to do lasting damage.

Then, the creature retaliated. With a brutal swipe, it knocked her sword from her grip, sending it skittering into the ground a few feet away. Kyralia didn't flinch. Instead, she clenched her fists and landed a powerful punch to the beast's torso. The force of the blow sent the creature stumbling backwards, crashing into the earth with a thunderous thud.

"What are you?!" Nathanial blurted out, his voice filled with both awe and disbelief, yet devoid of fear. Kyralia didn't answer—she didn't have time.

"Go!" She barked at him, her voice stern, urging him to retreat. Without hesitation, Nathanial hobbled backwards, staying just far enough to avoid the creature's next attack. But Kyralia wasn't done. The beast was still recovering from the punch, but she wasn't about to give it the chance.

With a deep bend of her knees, she sprang into the air, moving with a speed that defied logic. She launched herself at the creature, landing a solid punch to its cheek that sent it reeling. The two tumbled into the tree line, their forms disappearing into the darkness, leaving Nathanial alone at the edge of the village.

He turned toward the sword that was now lodged in the ground, but as he reached out, a thick green smoke enveloped the hilt. It swirled and writhed, and before he could touch it, the smoke dissipated into the night air. The sword was gone. The sudden silence was suffocating, broken only by a roar—a deep, guttural sound of pain and fury. Nathanial held his breath, tension crawling through him, but after the roar, there was nothing but an eerie stillness.

Then, through the trees, Kyralia emerged. Nathanial's heart skipped a beat. She was covered in blood, her clothes drenched in it, as if she had been in a battle to the death. Blood splattered across her face and arms, dripping from her sword in steady drops that stained the ground beneath her. She was a warrior in every sense of the word, and the sight of her, bloodied but unbroken, made Nathanial realize just how much she was willing to sacrifice to protect them both and this village she had no ties to.

"You killed it?" Nathanial asked, his voice full of disbelief, clearly struggling to comprehend the scene he'd just witnessed.

Kyralia gave a sarcastic smile, her bloodied form standing tall. "No, I let it wander off. This is just berry juice," she teased, though the blood on her was too obvious to miss. Nathanial knew she was joking, but it didn't ease the shock he was feeling. "I guess you have questions?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, before slamming her sword into the ground with a thud.

"Just a few," Nathanial responded, his earlier calm slipping away. His mind was racing with unanswered questions. "What the hell are you?! How did you do all that?! It's physically impossible! And how did you get your sword from the ground to your hand so fast?!" His words tumbled out in a rush, frustration and confusion evident in his voice.

Kyralia chuckled, finding a strange amusement in his bewilderment. It was oddly endearing, how clueless he was about her. "I am a Greek Demigoddess and sorceress," she said flatly as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "From about four thousand years ago."

Nathanial blinked, staring at her in disbelief. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come. "I... uh...," was all he managed to stammer, at a loss for how to respond.

Kyralia seemed to understand his shock. "Do not worry, you will have no memory of this," she added casually. The sudden shift in tone made Nathanial's eyes snap to hers, a sense of panic flashing across his face.

"No!" he said quickly, his eyes widening. "I want to keep my memories. This knowledge—this is... phenomenal." He couldn't imagine just forgetting everything he'd witnessed.

Kyralia raised an eyebrow, eyeing him thoughtfully. "How do I know I can trust you? Or that you will not go around Scotland telling everyone about what happened here?" She was right to be cautious—people had betrayed her trust before.

Nathanial met her gaze with conviction. "Because I would never put you in harm's way," he said, and there was something in his eyes that made Kyralia pause, considering his sincerity.

But before she could say anything more, she noticed how pale he looked. His body wobbled slightly before he collapsed forward. She reacted immediately, catching him in her arms as he fell. She gently laid him down on the ground, her sharp eyes scanning him. It didn't take long for her to realize what was wrong—the deep wound in his leg was still bleeding heavily.

Acting swiftly, Kyralia yanked the wooden stake from his leg, and as it came free, blood spurted out. He winced at her action but she quickly focused on the injury. With a practised hand, she placed her palm above the wound, and green energy began to swirl around her fingers. The ghostly energy flowed down her fingertips and into Nathanial's leg, where it sank into the flesh.

She moved her fingers with deliberate care, guiding the energy with her thoughts. It felt complicated like she was knitting his skin back together. The green light twisted and wrapped around the wound as though it were sewing itself shut. In less than a minute, the injury began to fade, the skin knitting itself together, the blood stopping. Even the hair on his leg grew back where the wound had marred it.

Kyralia let out a breath of relief as the energy faded, and Nathanial's colour began to return to normal. He stirred, slowly regaining consciousness. Relieved that he was stable, Kyralia carefully scooped him up, lifting him in her arms in a bridal carry. She moved quickly, taking him back to the barn where she could clean his wound properly and tend to him further. There was still work to do.

......................

The morning arrived with the cheerful chirping of birds and the warm glow of the sun, casting its light over the village as though it were blessed by the gods themselves. Kyralia, still restless, tried to sleep but couldn't shake the worries clouding her mind. She sat on her hay bale, knees pulled to her chest, her eyes following the rise and fall of Nathanial's chest as he breathed steadily. She had removed his pants, thankful that he still wore undergarments. After watching him for hours, Kyralia decided it was time to stop being a silent observer and do something more productive.

With a quick motion, she sprang to her feet and walked toward the large hole in the barn door, which extended farther than it should have. She stepped through the opening, taking in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. The villagers were already going about their day, some in groups, others in pairs, and all seemed in good spirits as they went about their business.

She started gathering the large pieces of wood scattered across the area, remnants of the battle that had unfolded. Some of the debris lay half-buried in the mud, but at least she had dealt with the threat to the village.

"Sunny," a deep male voice called out, pulling Kyralia's attention. She turned to see Nathanial leaning casually against the wooden frame of the barn, his posture relaxed but his eyes locked on her. For a brief moment, her gaze lingered on him. His shirt had disappeared completely, revealing a toned, defined abdomen. The muscles on his stomach were clearly sculpted, with a six-pack that flexed as he shifted. His torso, though not overly bulky, held a quiet strength—lean and powerful, the kind that came from years of physical endurance. Her eyes moved upward, but the image of his body remained in her mind. She quickly forced her focus back to his face, trying to ignore the inexplicable flutter in her chest.

"The dead have risen," Kyralia said with a wry smile, her gaze focusing only on his face.

"Dead men tell no tales. But I do not feel dead," Nathanial responded, his eyes locking onto hers with a steady intensity.

"Sadly, you are not," she replied, bending down to pick up a large piece of wood and bringing it over to the barn. "I healed your wound. You should be fine." She announced, dropping the pile she had collected a few inches away from the barn.

"I still remember," Nathanial's voice was quiet, yet firm enough for Kyralia to catch his words.

"I chose not to meddle with your mind," she said, her expression softening for a moment. Nathanial's eyes widened slightly at the revelation. "I have to trust your word."

Nathanial's lips twitched into a small smile as he crossed his arms over his chest, raising a playful eyebrow.

"You are warming up to me. Saved my life, and now you trust me with your secret. I must be special," he teased, earning an eye roll from her.

"Do not make me regret it," she replied darkly, though Nathanial could sense the underlying warmth in her voice. Despite her tough exterior, he knew she wasn't as cold as she appeared. As much as Kyralia tried to hide it, something in him made him want to learn everything about this Goddess...

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