Page 89 of The Book of Legends
Measured. Deliberate.
Each one thunders through the snow like distant drums of war.
Through the whiteout, a figure appears—towering, cloaked in white furs as dense as the shadows around him. He moves like a monarch born from the bones of the earth. A sword hangs at his hip. His hair, like winter itself, gleams silver-white.
His face is half-shadowed…
But his eyes?—
I know them.
Like… Kainen.
“You’ve returned,” he says.
His voice is smoother than Kainen’s.
Colder. Sharper.
Precise.
“She did the same.”
I stagger back, breath caught. “Who are you?”
He doesn’t smile.
He doesn’t have to.
“You’ve never met the blood I carry,” he says.
My heart twists.
Therion.
He inclines his head. A slow, calculated nod.
“You’re so much like her,” he murmurs, drawing closer. “Soft. Loyal. Real.”
Disgust drips from every word.
I stand my ground.
The book presses tighter to my chest. “I don’t want anything from you,” I say. “Just send me back home.”
“Home?”
He scoffs. “You mean that rotting world you clawed your way out of?”
He lifts a hand.
Magic slithers around my throat like frostbite.
His fingers graze my cheek—cold as death, but burning.
“You reek of him,” he says. “Kainen. I can smell his filth.”
I flinch. And in a blink—He’s behind me. His magic explodes—violent, raw. His body pins mine, stealing the air from my lungs. Cold. Heat. Shadow. Hunger. Power.
