Chapter 166: Fenrir’s Wrath

Her mind immediately leapt to the worst possible scenarios.

A comrade lost in the snow.

A member of the barracks desperately searching for shelter.

A friend unable to find their way back, struggling against winds that could claim their life within minutes.

She knew now how merciless this storm truly was.

She knew what it felt like when your fingers stopped responding, when your legs grew as heavy as lead, when every breath scorched your lungs with freezing air. She remembered stumbling forward blindly, unable to see the path just a few feet ahead, driven by nothing but sheer determination.

Without Phénix...

She probably never would have reached the gate.

The thought alone tightened her chest.

Her fingers unconsciously curled around the edge of the window frame.

She hoped with all her heart that her intuition was wrong.

Because if someone really was out there...

Every minute mattered now.

"Who?" she whispered, a shiver running through her.

"Nicky," Aaron replied as he tied back his hair.

Blanche let out a relieved breath.

He wasn't supposed to come this week. He was on the night shift.

She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to tell Aaron without revealing too much. There was no point worrying him for nothing.

Aaron gave her a strange look but asked no questions.

He never would have forced her.

"I found this among your things," he said instead, changing the subject as a clean outfit appeared in his hands through magic.

He handed her an exquisitely crafted dagger by its hilt, its blade wickedly sharp, then summoned the matching sheath.

"I know who this belongs to. And since you weren't with us last time, I assume you completed your quest alone. What I'd like to know is why it's in your possession."

Blanche at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

She told him, in broad strokes, about her encounter with Vecz and his father.

"Let's just say he... um... kindly gave it to me as a welcome gift," she finished, rubbing her cheek with one finger while once again avoiding her husband's gaze.

Aaron sighed before summarizing.

"I suppose he tried to kill you with that very dagger. That would explain everything. Then Nicky definitely isn't here..."

Blanche slowly sat up.

Without saying a word, she drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin on top, instinctively folding in on herself. The position gave her the fragile illusion of regaining some control over the emotions beginning to overwhelm her.

Yet she never took her eyes off Aaron.

Even curled into herself, she kept him constantly within her field of vision, following every one of his movements with almost unconscious attention. Her expression appeared calm, but her gaze was far too fixed to truly be at peace.

His anger had surfaced all at once.

Brutal.

Silent.

He wasn't shouting.

He wasn't gesturing.

He hadn't even raised his voice.

Aaron's anger was never loud.

It condensed.

Became denser.

Colder.

Like an ember mistaken for dead while it continued consuming everything around it.

His aura immediately reflected it.

The colors surrounding him seemed to tighten, vibrating more intensely, revealing the emotion with a subtlety only the most observant could notice. It didn't spill over—it contracted, growing stronger the more he restrained it.

Physically, almost nothing betrayed him.

Only the slight tightening of his jaw.

The muscle that flexed there from time to time.

The way his fingers had closed a little more firmly around his leg as he pulled on his socks, until his knuckles turned pale.

And his eyes.

They had lost none of their usual warmth.

But a new determination shone within them—calm, razor-sharp—the kind that appeared whenever he believed someone had crossed a line.

As for Blanche, she was still trying to figure out how to tell him that Nicky was fine, unable to understand how any of this connected.

"Explain what?"

"The storm," Aaron replied. "We're on Fenrir's lands. Every Norse god has their own territory and the village that honors them. Fenrir forbade his people from harming us in any way... but apparently, they forgot. He punished them. Hurting you—especially you—is what triggered his wrath."

And Aaron's as well.

His eyes had become an endless abyss of black.

Blanche blinked in bewilderment.

She knew she mattered to Fenrir.

Just not this much.

"So... the storm is here because they tried to hurt me?" she asked despite herself. "How is all this snow supposed to be a punishment?"

"I think Fenrir didn't realize you'd end up trapped in the storm, or he never would have taken that risk. Either way, you weren't the only one outside when it struck, and the others don't have your powers or your resistance to the cold."

Blanche jerked her head up, fear knotting her stomach.

"You mean... people died because of me?"

The tremor in her voice instantly prompted Aaron to cross the room and pull her into his arms.

"Of course not. None of this is your fault," he assured her, gently stroking her back as she trembled. "The blame rests entirely with the Chief and his son."

"But Vecz said Fenrir wasn't his god..." she suddenly remembered.

"He said that?!" Aaron exclaimed, tightening his embrace. "Damn..."

Far away, a low rumble of thunder echoed as the wind gradually began to calm.

"The weather's changing," Aaron murmured. "It seems Fenrir doesn't appreciate you blaming yourself for something that isn't your fault. The storm is weakening. It should end within two days. At least we can be certain Nicky is safe."

"Are you sure?" Blanche asked, even though she already knew he'd never truly been in danger.

"Fenrir would never make you suffer even more by taking away someone you love, especially after the consequences of his own mistake."

Blanche looked up at him.

"You sound like you respect him."

Aaron nodded and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"He's your friend. You may not remember it yet, but you've always been able to rely on him. No matter what happened, no matter the cost, he always put you first. Very few of us can boast of having a god like yours. That's also why we live here instead of on the lands of our own gods."

Then Fenrir's voice echoed through Blanche's mind, deep and absolute.

No one has the right to harm what belongs to me.

No one.

It is high time my people remembered that.