March from Darkness | ✓ (to be edited)

SIXTEEN

PHRER

THREE DAYS PRIOR...

I grabbed Demitri before he hit the floor, but my palms instantly began to burn as if I had pressed them into hot coals. My body stiffened slightly as I forced one of my hands to remain on his side while the other supported his limp head. I would not let him go, even if it meant that my hands would be charred for several hours. I gently placed him down on the cold stone floor of the throne room, and it was then that I heard shouting and rushing feet. Freya was at my side first, but she yelped and grabbed her hand back when she went to check his forehead.

"My gods, Phrer, let him go! He's burning!" she pleaded with me, but I could see in her eyes that she was more than glad that I hadn't let him go with the same notion.

"What's happening to him?" my father asked, and I turned to look at him. It had been a while since I had seen him, not that he changed all that much, but I still felt a bit uncomfortable being near him. Foresti went to say something, but someone else spoke first.

"He's having a panic attack," I heard Odin say calmly as he slowly walked over to the four of us while Frigg walked next to him.

She scoffed, and if min vackra wasn't terrified and alone in his own mind, I would have actually punched her. "How weak the little halfling is," she chided, her voice like acid.

I growled at her, and even my father looked at me, surprised by my protectiveness over Demitri. Forseti stifled a laugh and turned it into a slight cough, and Fre simply raised a perfect brow. "Do not growl at my wife, din lilla kuk," Odin responded before he turned to his wife. "And do not insult the Prophecy. The Universe has made this one the savior for a reason, and to insult him is to insult the Universe."

She glared daggers at her husband, but he simply ignored it and walked over to our little group. Demitri was convulsing rather badly, sweating and mumbling words that made no sense aside the occasional distressed whimper and soft "no." I gathered Demitri in my arms, ignoring as best I could the intense pain in my arms and torso as the fire under his skin burned my flesh. I tried to tap into his mind to soothe him some, but as soon as I did, an involuntary growl left me, and I felt my own eyes flash, my vision turning purple before snapping back to reality. I shook my head hard before I realized that my head hurt now and I saw two small red drops fall onto his neck.

"Knulla!" Forseti shouted as I quickly wiped my nose on my shoulder, only to see it absolutely soaked with blood afterwards, staining the shoulder black. "Phreryan, what did you do?"

"I... tried to... tap into his mind. To comfort him... at least a little," I breathed out, the pain in my entire body becoming greater, making it hard to talk and breathe. "Don't... don't do that."

"Phre," Freya spoke, softly, placing her hand on my shoulder. "You need to put him down. He's draining the power out of you, that's why you're bleeding so badly. The blood vessels in your eyes have started popping, as well. You have to-"

"I am not putting him down, Fre!" I ground out, suddenly ignoring the pain at the thought of letting Demitri go through this alone. "I am not going to let him stress out by something that I, presumably, caused. I would rather let my skin burn and my body bleed than let this poor creature suffer through this."

Even Odin widened his eyes at this declaration before something flashed in his eyes, something that I did not like at all: sick curiosity. Suddenly, Odin stepped forward and placed his hand palm down on Demitri's forehead, causing Tyr to shout in protest, seeing what it had done to me. Odin just glared at him before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath; as he pushed the breath out, he opened his eyes once more and both of them were glowing an almost neon green. Demitri's shuddering body suddenly fell pliant and his head rolled into my chest as the burning instantly stopped and I felt the blood dry on my face. Odin, on the other hand, violently shuddered every few seconds and his eyes went through a range of emotions: confusion, understanding, pride, disbelief, anger, which came to be the most potent and common of them all, shock, sorrow, before they all circled back again. I knew what he was seeing, and that made my heart break.