CHAPTER 8
1005 Words
THE HUNTER IN THE DARK
The hall went silent. Even the torches seemed to burn slower, their flames shrinking as though afraid of the words Einar had just spoken.
“A hunter?” Ragnar asked, stepping in front of Ingrid instinctively. “What hunter?”
Einar’s face was gray with exhaustion. “Not a man. Not truly. Some call him The Oathbreaker. Others say he’s a spirit in flesh. All we know is this—where he goes, leaders die. Kings, queens, heirs… and now he searches for a girl with eyes of silver.”
Ingrid felt everyone watching her—Ragnar, Skaldheim, Sten, even the guards near the door.
Hjarnheim’s grip on Ingrid tightened. “We should have never let you leave the forest. If I had known—”
“You couldn’t have known,” Ingrid said softly, though her voice trembled.
Ragnar moved close, his hand brushing her arm. “He will not reach her. Not here.”
Einar shook his head. “Ragnar… he already came close. Too close. We found signs—prints near the northern ridge. And a carving.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small wooden piece.
Ingrid flinched when she saw it.
A small disc carved with an eye—an eye with a silver pupil.
Skaldheim stepped forward immediately. “My lady, this is not a threat we can ignore.”
Ragnar took the disc from Einar, his jaw tightening. “No one enters my father’s territory without leaving a trail. I’ll send scouts to find him.”
Einar stared at him with a warning. “Scouts won’t find him. Many have tried. None returned.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Ulf entered the hall, his presence shifting the air like a storm. Eirkog followed, her expression tight with worry.
“We heard enough,” Ulf said. “This hunter—if he seeks the girl, then we protect the girl.”
His voice held authority, yet beneath it, something else flickered. Concern. Fear of an enemy he could not predict.
Ulfgard, who had slithered in behind the council as though she belonged there, finally spoke.
“Or,” she said sweetly, “we could send the girl back where she came from. Why endanger the entire palace for someone we barely know?”
Skaldheim’s eyes snapped toward her like a hawk spotting prey. “Careful, child. The venom in your voice might choke you.”
Ulfgard lifted her chin. “I only speak sense. If someone is hunting Ingrid, then—”
“She stays,” Ragnar said sharply, stepping between Ulfgard and Ingrid.
The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a blade.
Ulfgard’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making a mistake.”
Ragnar didn’t blink. “Then I’ll make it again.”
Before Ulfgard could spit another word, Ulf clapped his hands once. “Enough. Ingrid will be moved to safer quarters. Sten, assemble a guard shift. No one enters her halls unless approved.”
Sten nodded immediately. “Done.”
Hjarnheim’s knees buckled slightly. Eirkog rushed to support her. “You look faint—come, sit.”
But Hjarnheim pushed her gently away. “I am fine. Just tired from the journey.”
Yet Ingrid noticed something—her mother’s fingers trembled, and her breathing was shallow. Not fear. Pain.
“Mama?” Ingrid whispered.
Hjarnheim forced a smile. “Later. We’ll talk later.”
Einar placed a steadying hand on her back. “We need rest. The journey was long, and… dangerous.”
Ragnar nodded and signaled the guards to escort them to guest chambers. As Ingrid watched her parents leave, a heavy dread crawled into her chest.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
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Hours later
Ingrid lay in her new chambers, unable to sleep. Skaldheim sat near the door sharpening a blade, her expression hard as iron.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” Skaldheim said without looking up.
“I can’t help it,” Ingrid murmured. “My parents looked… frightened. I’ve never seen them like that.”
Skaldheim nodded. “Families hide fear from their children. Even brave ones.”
“But they didn’t just look frightened.” Ingrid hugged her knees. “They looked… broken.”
Before Skaldheim could answer, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Ingrid stood up quickly.
A knock. Soft but urgent.
Skaldheim’s hand flew to her dagger. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Ragnar’s voice whispered.
Skaldheim opened the door only a fraction, then allowed him in.
Ragnar stepped inside, his cloak still wet from the night rain, his hair dripping onto the stone floor.
“You shouldn’t be out this late,” Ingrid said in a half-whisper. “Ulfgard will spin five new rumors by dawn.”
Ragnar smirked slightly. “Let her try. I came to check on you.”
His expression darkened again. “And to tell you something important… something I didn’t want to say earlier.”
Skaldheim stood, all her senses alert. “What is it?”
Ragnar lowered his voice. “My scouts found something near the western woods.”
“What?” Ingrid asked.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out another wooden disc—the same strange symbol carved into it.
Only this one was fresh. Newly carved. As though made just hours ago.
Ingrid’s heart thumped painfully.
“Where did they find it?”
Ragnar’s eyes locked onto hers.
“At the exact spot where you and I entered the kingdom.”
Skaldheim swore under her breath.
Ingrid swallowed hard. “So he knows I’m here.”
Ragnar nodded slowly. “Not just that. He’s getting closer.”
Before Ingrid could speak, a distant scream echoed through the halls—sharp and blood-chilling.
Skaldheim jerked her blade free. Ragnar rushed to the door. Ingrid’s heart lurched.
“Where did that come from?” Ingrid whispered.
Ragnar didn’t answer.
Because they all knew.
The scream came from the guest wing.
Where her parents were sleeping.
- Writer
