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“So, he left to find you?” I asked.
“I led him as far away as I could. When he caught up to me, I attempted to cage him, but he broke free.” His expression faltered and became somber. “We nearly killed each other again, just like the first time. But we crawled away, and he disappeared.”
The silence was long and fraught with tension. Sigurd seemed lost to his memories. Charlie’s mouth opened and closed like he was about to ask something but stopped himself.
“Thank you. You saved me when you knocked on the door and gave me the opportunity to take my life back,” I said around a lump in my throat and the gloss of tears in my eyes.
He closed his eyes and grimaced as though my thanks hurt him. “You aren’t the first victim of Fafnir. You won’t be the last. But I was glad to have done something to save you. To enable you a chance at a new life.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “It seems fate had a lot in store for you. You have reconnected with your titan soul pair.”
Zaide’s large hand still clasped mine, and I looked up at him, my lips curving upward as I stared at his beautiful face. “Yes.”
“I haven’t seen a titan in many centuries. Are soul pairs more common now?” he asked, the curiosity clear on his face as he looked between us.
Zaide shook his head. “No. The gods seem to think we are the only ones, if not one of the only ones.”
“Nisha must have known you’d be important,” Sigurd said.
Charlie crossed his arms and huffed as he leaned back into the cushions. “I don’t like that this woman has been meddling in your life for over a hundred years. Why the fuck does she care so much? What’s it to her if you lived or died?”
“I’ll have to ask her if I see her again,” I replied simply and rolled my eyes at his dramatics.
Charlie turned back to Sigurd. “And that was it? You never saw Fafnir again?”
“A young witch found me. Healed me. I built a life with her. Had children.” He looked down, his jaw and hands clenched. We stayed quiet as he composed himself.
He had a family.I couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to be alive again, knowing all your loved ones are dead. My rebirth was a second chance. His rebirth was torture. I swallowed hard, wishing there was something we could do for him. Wishing there was a way for him to go back to his peaceful afterlife. To finally defeat Fafnir and never be used as a protector again.
No one deserved to be enslaved for all eternity, no matter how important their power.
Sigurd cleared his throat and looked up, his eyes clear and angry. “I never stopped looking for him. I visited every coven in the UK and asked if anyone was missing. I gave them a description of Fafnir. Warned them of the danger. But if he was attacking witches, then it was the ones who didn’t know they were witches, the hidden ones, the supernaturals with the smallest amount of magic inside them. And there was no possible way I could track that.”
“There wasn’t a magical way of tracking him?” Charlie asked.
“Of course. I tried that too.” He sighed and rubbed his chin. “But the pin was gone, and I had nothing else to use to find him.”
“But he must have died before you. My mother said—” Charlie stopped abruptly.
Sigurd raised his brow but didn’t comment. “I became ill in my old age and traveled back to Sweden—”
I interrupted. “Why did you have to go back there? If you had stayed in England, you wouldn’t have been revived again.”
“It’s part of the spell we are both bound to. We must return to our original graves in case I am ever needed again.”
“That’s not right.” I frowned.The witches were so cruel to do that to him.
“How did Fafnir get caught in that spell, though? Surely they would have cast that on you alone when you were given your powers?” Charlie rubbed his as he thought. “Or is that another myth retold incorrectly?”
Sigurd blinked and hesitated. “Yes. Now that you mention it, he shouldn’t have been affected by my need to be buried in the same grave. He was not spelled.”
“But when you went to Sweden—” Charlie prompted.
“As my children dug up the grave, they told me there was already a body there. I knew it was him. I didn’t know when he died, but I was relieved it was before me.” He shook his head and frowned so deep grooves appeared on his brow. “But in retrospect, he had no reason to be there unless he planned to be reborn.”
Charlie nodded. “That fits with what we know.”
“But for what purpose does he wish to live again? What is he planning?” Sigurd asked, half to himself.
“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,” I replied softly.
