The goddess lounged on the roots of the world tree, delight in her single shining eye. “Oh, I was wondering when it would hit you, dear brute,” she said with a laugh that managed to sound both like a hyena and tinkling bells.

Rose’s eyes slowly turned back their normal green, and I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing whatever had happened, it’d passed. “No.” He shook his head. “I’m past the age where it would’ve first developed. It’s impossible to have it now.”

Have what? I mouthed to Seppo, but all the halfling did was shrug and shake his head to indicate he too had no idea what his boyfriend was talking about.

“Did you not tell them?” Hel said, amusement in her tone. “Did you not tell them the truth of why you wanted to come?”

“I came to help my friends,” Rose growled. “And that’s what I’ll do.”

“But that’s not all you came for, right?” Her voice was an impossible dichotomy of soothing and taunting, soft and harsh, dark and light, like her own body.

“We all came for the same person,” Rose said, his growl a little deeper. “If I had personal reasons, those are my own.”

“Wait.” Seppo took a half step toward his boyfriend. “What do you mean? Rose?”

“Yeah,” Soren said, in a much less friendly tone than Seppo. “What do you mean?”

Diaval’s head tilted to the side like an interested cat, yet she said nothing.

Deep inside my gut, something churned. The feeling of not-right and darkness, anticipation of betrayal, the idea that one of my friends could have some ulterior motive … Had I grown too complacent? Had being the stag lulled me into some false sense of security? Out of the group, Rose was always the one with the littlest to share. He, like Diaval, didn’t participate on the Hunt, but like Diaval, he’d pledged his services after. He had an uncanny ability to nearly predict my moves before I made them in a fight, but swore it was years of talent, and had no family to speak of.

But there was something more, and my stomach lurched painfully as a shimmering spirit emerged, trapped in the roots of the world tree.

His face was haggard, his once-luscious blond hair limp and tangled, and his bones jutted out from his skin like a skeleton’s. His once-nice clothes had been torn and ripped almost to shreds, and there were bruises littering his skin. Some were dark blue, new and growing darker, while some were yellowing and fading. A large cut marred one of his cheeks and ruined the perfect skin he’d once possessed.