Wolf Den - Lìfa-Saga Book 2

IV.

Standing in the middle of the battleground, Lìfa felt the warmth of the flames licking her skin and the smell of death and dread lingering in the air. Above the violent drumming of her heart, the sound of metal against metal was ringing in her ear, followed by many battle cries and deadly screams.

All around, she saw the desperate groups of humans fighting till their last breaths against fiery creatures she had never seen before. Terror shined in her eyes as she recognised the Fire giants from the childhood tales she had heard many times before. Their skin was black as coal with eyes glowing red, setting everything and everyone on fire they touched.

Above the crowd of fighting people, Lìfa saw something coming from the distance. Through the thick smoke, she saw its orange flames moving closer, and its steps thundered through the dead land.

The army of the Firefolk opened up, as another giant marched ahead. He rose several heads above the crowd, his skin glowing deep red with yellow and orange cracks running across it. His two horns sat on his head like a royal crown forged from the same flames as the burning sword held in his hand.

His yellow eyes burned with hatred piercing his gaze into Lìfa's. As she watched the giant approaching step by step, her chest felt too tight for her racing heart, and it became hard to breathe in the burning heat. She tried to back away, looking for a place to hide, but there was nothing in sight but the piles of burning bodies.

"There's nowhere to hide, Champion of the Liar! The time has come for the sons of Muspelheim* to rise." His voice thundered across the land like the sound of a volcano. "Your gods are dying, Ragnarok is here."

Suddenly, Lìfa felt something cold and heavy appearing in her grasp. Looking down at her hand, she found a longsword she recognised immediately. The magical runes carved all over its blade shined and pulsated with strong seidr, sending shivers down her spine. The otherworldly force radiating from it melted all her fear away as she raised her weapon, standing against the Fire giant.

"You can't stop what has been decided long ago. Your world's going to burn."

With this, he clashed his fiery sword against Lìfa's. The two collided with the roar of thunder, bathing everything in a blinding white light. Suddenly, the world around her started to fall apart and fade away into the abyss with one last picture she saw. The form of Surtur melting away, being replaced by a man wearing a red cross painted over his clothes...

Lìfa woke up in cold sweat, still panting from the dream she just had. The first thing hitting her senses was the queasiness in her stomach. Instantly regretting last night's reckless drinking, she didn't open her eyes just yet, knowing that the sly ache in the back of her head would soon get her. Instead, trying to escape from the light sneaking in, she turned around in her lover's protecting arms and snuggled up closer to him.

Burying her face into his bare chest to feel the warmth of his body, she listened to his heart beating, waiting for her own to slow down as well. She breathed in his scent, waiting for it to wrap her around in a comforting hug, but instead of the scent of sweet rosin, the strong, putrid odour of alcohol infiltrated her nostrils. Blurred fragments of last night flashed into her mind, slowly merging into one piece.

Scared by the realisation, Lìfa pushed herself away from him to get a better look. Her eyes met no sharp cheekbones, nor strong jawline, but an oval, slightly long face with more subtle features, framed by dark brown locks. Suddenly, Lìfa felt like the walls were caving in, squeezing all air from her lungs. As she stood from the bed, the room spun around, pulling the floor from under her feet. With every minute spent in there, the storm awakening in her mind got louder and louder, making her thirsty for fresh air. Fighting against the urge to vomit, with trembling hands she pulled up her clothes and stumbled out of the cottage.