TYR

Rain lashed against my face as I urged the horse forward. The storm was turning the world into a blur of black and silver. Every breath I took came out ragged.

The wind clawed at my cloak, and thunder cracked somewhere above, splitting the night open. I should have been inside, dry, warm; anywhere but here, but my chest burned with the need to move, to reach her.

I had told myself it was madness to leave Bjord late evening when the weather was looking quite weird, but it was worse to ...