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Harald Helvig, the rightful High King of Ahland, launched three fireballs at the line of soldiers in formation before him. Flames flickered in his periphery as his so-called "loyal" soldiers scattered to avoid his raining Hel-fire. The only one who remained still was his High General, Baldr.

A shield of golden flames surrounded his General as Helvig's rage turned down to its ever-present simmer.

The sun was just setting on the day Harald was supposed to be crowned High King.

The General of Rivers was to be his sacrifice to the gods in front of the citizens of Logi as an act of good faith that he continued to be the benevolent ruler they all adored.

He had planned this spectacle as a way to show that everything would remain as it was before, but only now did he have greater jurisdiction.

Already, he had sent missives with his most trusted personal soldiers to the neighboring towns to announce his new title with strict instructions to report any known vitki in the area to surrender themselves for punishment.

The thieves had flaunted their stolen galder in the shadows of his rule for so long, but now that he was the strongest force in Ahland, Harald would tighten the loop around their necks until they showed their faces.

"As I was saying, Your Majesty," Baldr continued, flicking a piece of ash off the shoulder of his pitched black uniform.

"The prisoner had help escaping when the palace was attacked.

The group knew which patrols were cycling through to find the perfect window to sneak in and free the General of Rivers. "

Harald clenched his jaw until the pain radiated down his neck and into his shoulders.

The burn from his fire settled in his shoulders until thin wisps of smoke curled up from his shoulders and into his hair, the golden copper locks loose around his jaw.

The scar given to him from Maude pulsed a few times, the damaged tissue aggravated from him rising temper.

He swallowed the discomfort, using it to fuel his anger further.

"How did they get in?" he asked, his voice strained as he waited for his General to answer for his mistakes.

"An old servant's corridor that has been shut down on the late Queen's side of the palace, Your Majesty," Baldr replied blandly.

Even in death, Sylvi is still trying to screw me over , Harald thought bitterly to himself.

He viewed the bandaged hand Baldr had been sporting, the bright red of his blood beginning to seep through the wrapping.

Though he did not seem to be in pain, the profuse bleeding of the wound said otherwise.

This was why Harald had chosen him as his High General in his new regime; Baldr was brutal and swift in his duties, his lack of conscience aiding him in the tasks that Harald had set for him when looking to replace his sorry excuse of a daughter.

Brynna had been his final disappointment after Ulf had murdered his Heir.

The lack of control over his blade and where it had landed was the final nail in his brother's disgraced funerary longboat.

Brynna may have been the one to end his life, another reason he was glad to be rid of his daughter, but Harald had the pleasure of sending him to the Void without honors.

He had never held much affection in his heart for Ulf; their partnership came from how their father had raised them.

The weasel had always been weak, saying that they needed to stick together as brothers first and their duties second.

Their father had also insisted on waiting for Harald to marry before stepping down, choosing to follow the traditions of their society instead of handing the crown over when Harald came of age.

Well, it wasn't anything that some belladonna poisoning didn't handle swiftly .

Ever since he had orchestrated his father's passing, Harald had instructed Ulf to use the belladonna concoction on his Flame Assassin's blades.

It was nearly impossible to diagnose the poisoning until it was far too late, which was why he had favored it.

Hela's blossom could only be found on the Isle of Gioll, the home of the Grand Soothsayer and her seers.

When he had gone for Maude's fate telling all those years ago, he had insisted on bringing soldiers with them, not for protection, but for scavenging the deadly bloom while his wife was distracted with the farce of a tradition.

Fate tellings did not hold much power over Harald. He had chosen his fate long ago.

His fatemark pulsed over his chest at the memory of that day when he chose to go against his foretold fate.

On his father's deathbed, Harald had confessed that he had been the one to poison him right before his father had leaned in to whisper the damning words that still echoed in his ears decade's later.

You will fail, my son, for fate prevails over all in our world. Your hatred will be your destruction.

Harald's tattoo had burned on his chest as the words had been uttered into the world, the Norns ready and waiting to weave this final prophecy into the tapestry of fate.

The symbol for the Helm of Awe, the symbol that had appeared after his fate telling, had eight lines that burst from the center of his chest ending in the rune algiz— the rune for victory and protection— and as his father slipped into the Void, his last words swirled around him.

They caused the symbol to glow red before dimming back to its normal black ink.

Since that day, Harald had not felt any different or noticed any downfalls that he could not intercept in time other than when his Heir had fled from the palace.

When Maude had flung herself from the window in her tower, it had pulsed that deep red again, the color so like Sylvi's hair. An omen, if there ever was one.

Shaking the past from his mind, Harald brought himself back to the report Baldr was still giving him about the escape.

"An entire section of the dungeons that held captured vitki were also hit, the criminals freed from their cages," Baldr reported. "We followed their trail and came face to face with the group who had seemingly sprung Prince Kolbeck from his cell."

"Did you manage to see who disrupted my plans, General, while you did nothing to stop them?" Harald asked, his patience growing thin in the dying rays of sun blaring through the windows of the new War Room he had built after Maude had destroyed the last one.

"Based on the descriptions you gave me, it seems the previous Lieutenant General was involved," Baldr bit out, his face stoic despite his tone.

"Another member of their party took it upon themselves to create a massive crack in the earth with their galder .

We were unable to reach them by the time I got there. "

"The Heir of Rivers is more powerful than I expected," Harald growled, standing from his chair to pace around the half-finished map of Ahland that was to replace the previous table. "He's a spoiled prince who has never seemed to take a large interest in leading, unlike his younger brother."

"It was a woman who wrought that much destruction," Baldr informed him.

Harald stopped in his tracks. A woman? It couldn't be Bryn or the other shieldmaiden who had traveled with the Kolbecks if his spies were correct, so who could it have been?

"You say they sailed away on a ship," he barked.

Baldr nodded stiffly.

"Send soldiers after them, only the best," he ordered, the wheels in his mind turning as he tried to figure out who the mystery warrior was.

"They are to bring the Kolbeck brothers back to me and discover who this additional member of their party is.

The rest can be killed— they have no value to me. Dismissed."

Baldr bowed deeply, his fist wrapped in blood-soaked linen moving to rest on his chest, staining the black cloth there.

He abruptly turned to face the remaining soldiers against the far wall who had not been so cowardly as to run from Harald's flames.

One by one, the soldiers, their new black uniforms much deadlier than his father's chosen colors, disappeared behind their General.

The door shut, and only then did Harald sit in his chair at the head of the table.

Quiet echoed in the War Room as his thoughts stirred, his great schemes laying a path toward his victory now more than ever .

For the briefest moment, he thought of his Heir.

Though he had not witnessed her demise, he had found her body in the hall after hearing the news that Ulf had been killed.

He'd gone to retrieve his brother's decapitated remains and instead found his Heir cold and lifeless on the stone when she had been so full of fire before.

When he had ordered his soldiers to clear the hall and prepare pyres to burn the dead, Maude had been lost in the horde of their dead that had needed to be taken care of. He never laid eyes on her again.

Something heavy settled over his chest, an unbearable weight that didn't seem to dissipate with time.

Was this grief? Maude may have been disrespectful and resistant to his plans for her, but she had shown so much promise before she threw herself in front of a blade meant for Bryn.

She was a fool whose actions were guided by her heart rather than her mind—all that potential, all that power, gone in an instant.

All to protect her sister. Harald could never understand how one could throw everything away for someone else.

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought, so he shook the sentiments about his Heir from his mind. His first-born daughter was dead, his second-born as good as dead, and that was that.

"Your Majesty," his steward said, his nasal voice grating on Harald's ears.

"What do you want?"

"Her Highness has arrived."

Ah, yes. Finally, somewhat positive news.

"Send her in," he commanded, standing and loosening the strings at the top of his tunic as he spoke. "Then bar the doors to any other visitors until I say so."