Page 171 of Daughter of the Serpent

Her hands rose to her lips, memories crashing into her - her own encounter with the bear, the sheer size of it, the wild, untamed power. But he had been only a child.

"How did you survive?" she whispered.

His eyes met hers, dark.

"It made a mistake," he murmured. "It saw me as I saw the rabbits - easy prey.” He paused, his eyes shadowing in memory. “But I was not one who would be so easily devoured.”

Something gleamed in his eyes. “I saw my chance. And with one strike - one final thrust - I drove my blade into its heart."

She gasped.

"At dawn, I found my way back to the village with its head," he continued. "Broken. Bloodied. But alive.”

Her eyes raked over him.

“I was given my first mark that day.” He turned slightly, his fingers brushing over the skin of his left shoulder,guiding her gaze. Her eyes traced over it, its intricate lines shifting beneath her stare. It looked like a rune, yet something about it seemed fluid, alive. As she focused, the lines twisted, forming the shape of a creature - jaws open, bared in a silent snarl. But in the next breath, it was gone.

"The bear.” She breathed.

“The gods seemed to have thought it a fitting symbol.” He said, his eyes molten gold.

Her gaze traced the winding tattoos that spiraled across his body, the runes and symbols that nearly consumed every inch of his skin - each mark telling a story, each one a symbol of strength, acquired knowledge.

The bear had only been the first of many.

"How did you earn the rest?" she asked, the words slipping from her before she could stop them.

“Through many trials, many paths.” he said simply, though his gaze darkened, as if the weight of them pressed against him.

What had he seen? What had he done?

She could only imagine.

Godvick’s voice echoed in her memory. The Hazier, he’d said, possessed an affinity for the old magic. Some could even delay time’s grip, extending their life spans. Until now, she’d assumed Axel was only a few years older than her. But what if…

Her breath caught.

She studied him anew - the subtle gravity in his gaze, the stillness with which he moved, as if he’d lived a thousand winters and learned how to pass through the world without disturbing it.

“There is much one can learn,” he murmured, voice low and unreadable, “if they’re willing to ask the right questions. If they are willing to face the truth.”

Her gaze drifted toward the ax resting within his arms reach, its runes still pulsing faintly with light. Another mystery. Another enigma. That glow… it haunted her now, not just with its beauty, but with its questions. She turned to him, her voice gentle, cautious.

“And your ax? - how did the gods grant you such a weapon, if you never underwent the trials? If you are not Drengr?”

His jaw tensed. “The gods award their gifts beyond the borders of Mardova,” he said, irritation lacing his words. “It is not only the warriors of this land who prove themselves worthy.”

The emphasis wasn’t lost on her. She felt the air shift, tension sliding between them like a blade unsheathed.

“I didn’t mean to imply - ” she began quickly, regret already blooming. But he lifted a hand, silencing her. Still, something flickered in his eyes - there, then gone.

“One day,” he added, his voice softening, “I’ll tell you more. But not today.”

She bit her lip, the urge to press him further swelling in her chest. A pang of disappointment tightening there. She’d wanted answers - wanted to understand him, to know what lay behind the mystery.

But then, sensing her disquiet, he spoke.

“You must be patient with me,” His eyes held hers now - steady, unguarded, as if bearing something he rarely let anyone see. “In time, I’ll share more. But for today - ”

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