“I don’t… think so.” She blinks slowly, her eyes returning to the natural warm brown with each one. “I think I’m okay.” She reaches up and takes Fenryr’s face in her hand as the rest of the demons crowd around her, their voices muddled as they all exclaim their praises.

Dagny shakes her head, her skin paling as she tries to push out of my grip. “We have to go. We… the heart. We have to find it before Slaine⁠—”

“Why don’t you rest for a minute, bunny?” Cyprien asks, a low whine building in the base of his chest. “You used so much power…”

“I can’t,” she deadpans, pushing out of my arms and standing on shaking legs. Pulling her shoulders back, she takes a deep breath in through her nose, then stalks off toward the tree line, past the countless bodies and traipsing over pools of dark blood. Just like the goddess she really is.

“Well?” she calls, turning her head over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Grinning, we follow her, Malice rushing to take the lead and guide us deeper into the forest. To take us to the heart.

32. Dagny

32

Dagny

The ground crunches underfoot as the six of us weave through the dripping branches, the tinkling of the crystal leaves the only sound other than our footfalls to break the charged silence hanging in the still air.

My gaze focuses on the bob and shudder of Malice’s back muscles as he leads us into the heart of the forest, needing something to tether me and keep me standing as black dots crowd my vision. Every muscle in my body twinges and cramps uncomfortably, though it's hardly noticeable past the throbbing ache in my joints. My bones feel like they’ve been dipped in fire, and every step adds gasoline to the blaze, causing agony to course through my system.

With each shallow breath, the air whooshes between the spaces in my ribs, rattling my chest and coating my lungs in a thin layer of frost. And it burns, but it’s the only thing keeping me conscious, allowing me to push forward one more step, one more foot. I’ve never felt this weak, but something inside me is forcing me onward, filling me with a sense of urgency that can’t be ignored.

Ten minutes of steady travel pass, and I wonder if Malice truly remembers where he buried the heart, or if he’s leading us on some wild goose chase through the woods. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to pull a stunt like⁠—

“Stop.”

Malice holds his hand up, his back muscles quivering as he stands eerily still, staring blankly off to the side.

“Is it here?” Cyprien asks, his voice barely a whisper.