Page 41 of Hallowed & Haunted

The statement has heat gathering low in Sander’s belly, but he’s currently too tired to act on it, snuggling closer to Niillas instead.

“You want to watch something while falling asleep?” Niillas asks.

Sander putsThe Breakfast Clubon TV, his eyes already drooping, and Karo jumps onto the couch, curling into a ball at their feet. The rightness of it all overwhelms Sander.

“Sleep, I’m right here,” Niillas mumbles against his hair, and Sander finally surrenders to exhaustion. The last thing he registers is Niillas pressing a kiss to the top of his head and murmuring something in a language Sander doesn’t understand.

It sounds like a promise.

Epilogue

The snow falls in thick, wet flakes that cling to Sander’s eyelashes and melt against his cheeks. November has turned properly cold by now, the air sharp with the promise of icy winter days to come. The polar night is settling in, but around noon, the sky still turns a deep blue.

Blåtime.

The blue twilight, perfect for hiking trips with his ghost dog and his bear.

Ahead of him, Niillas moves with the confident grace of a predator of the icy wilderness, his boots finding purchase on the steep trail without hesitation. Karo bounds between them, his copper coat bright against the white landscape, barking at the occasional ptarmigan they startle from the dwarf birch.

“How much further?” Sander asks, though he’s not really tired yet.

But he has learned that sometimes, whining brings him unexpected rewards when it comes to Niillas, whether it’s being chased up the path by his exasperated boyfriend or Niillas practically carrying him the rest of the way. Both options are equally desirable in Sander’s opinion.

“Just over this ridge.”

Niillas glances back at him, a knowing glint in his eye and snowflakes sitting like small diamonds in his dark hair.

They’ve been together properly for three weeks now. Three weeks of falling asleep tangled together on Sander’s couch, or Niillas’ bed, of studying in companionable silence at the library, and of profoundly productive practice sessions, Henrik still looking vaguely traumatized by the fact that Sander and Niillas are working together now.

Sander still wakes with the phantom sensation of cold fingers on his skin some nights, or catches himself checking shadows. But Niillas is always there, solid and warm, chasing away the lingering unease with his steady presence.

The ridge levels out ahead of them, and Niillas stops, offering Sander a hand up for the last steep steps. The view stretches out below, Tromsøysundet gleaming a deep, magical blue under an equally blue sky. The city lights are glowing amber far below them.

“There,” Niillas says quietly, his arm sneaking protectively around Sander’s waist.

Sander follows his gaze, and his heart beats faster.

The stone figure rises from the snow like an ancient monument, easily three meters tall. If you don’t know whatyou’re looking for, it seems like the other rocks, rough and misshapen. But Sander recognizes it immediately.

The stállu’s hulking form is frozen mid-step, one massive arm raised as if to shield its face. Its features seem weathered by wind and snow, but Sander can make out the crude suggestion of a face twisted in what might be rage or fear. Its antlers, small branches now crusted with ice, reach up toward a sky it will never see again.

“The sun caught him, just like you planned,” Sander breathes, and Niillas answers with a deep, rumbling sound that isn’t entirely human.

Karo approaches the stone cautiously, sniffing at its base before backing away with a low whine. Smart dog. Even turned to stone, the troll radiates something unsettling, a wrongness that has Sander’s stomach twisted in knots.

They stand in silence for a long moment, watching the snow gather on the troll’s broad shoulders, slowly burying it until spring thaw. An ancient terror, turned curiosity for hikers who might wonder at its almost-human shape.

Sander leans against his boyfriend, drawing comfort from his warmth.

“Let’s turn around. I want you inside my cabin when the sun sets.”

There’s a suggestive tone in Niillas’ voice that makes Sander very eager to get home, and he steals a fleeting kiss before heading back for the trail.

The wind picks up, carrying with it the scent of snow and pine trees and the distant sea. Below them, Tromsø glows like a constellation of stars fallen to earth, warm and alive and utterlymundane. But up here on the mountain, next to a troll turned to stone and with a bear spirit in human form as company, Sander feels caught between two versions of the world. The ordinary one he’s always known, and this stranger, darker one that’s opened up to him like a door he can’t quite close again.

But Sander’s always hoped there might be somethingspecialto the world, and now that he’s found it, he never wants to close that door again.