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Nine

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The storm hounds me.

Killian's clothes stick to my body like a second skin, the trousers dragging with excess water. The howling wind tears branches from trees and tosses them through the air. A wooden sign has blown off its hinges and lodged in the side of a cabin. I take in the destroyed street, my heart hammering, but before I can turn around, I bolt to the treeline.

A thick fog hangs low over the foliage. It lingers at the forest edge, not quite delving into the streets, as if an invisible barrier stops it from venturing further. It reminds me of the perpetual mist that hangs over the forge, but this is different. It's an inky coal colour, and it looks more like a cloud than mist.

"Freya!" Killian's voice is louder than the wind, but it only propels me forward into the thick cloud.

Inside the forest, the storm stills. There is no rain, no wind, no lightning, only an eerie stillness. It's dark, the inky colour swirling around me as I raise my hand to my face—I can barely see it. Despite the absence of the storm, the trees groan as I move along the path, using my memory to dictate each step. I've walked this path a million times, during the dead of night, too. I can make my way through a thick cloud.

Somebody whispers behind me.

I spin around, heart hammering as I stare at the disappearing path I came from. The cloud swirls around me, curling in the air like rising smoke. A shiver crawls down my spine.

I break into a run. All I can think of is Casimir in the fields. Has the storm stilled there, too? Is he okay? Is he surrounded by this thick, strangely moving fog? My heart pangs. It doesn't matter what lies he's told, what Killian thinks of him, what he's hiding—if something were to happen to him, I'd have no one. No one.

"Freya."

The familiar voice makes everything halt.

"Hello?" I respond.

An eerie feeling settles over my skin as I turn around, heading towards the fields again, this time faster. It feels as though I've been running for hours, and I know I'm heading in the right direction, so why haven't I reached the lake yet? Would I even know if I had, in this dark cloud?

"Freya."

There's no mistaking the voice this time, it's clear as day, and it makes my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. "Dad?" I whisper.

"Freya." It's everywhere and nowhere all at once, but it's him. "Freya, Freya, Freya."

I close my eyes, rest backwards until my back presses against a tree. His voice thaws my frozen body, a beautiful melody I never thought I'd hear again. I don't know how but he's here, somewhere in this thick cloud, he's here. I can feel his arms around me, his fingers brushing my hair back. His laugh is carried through the wind as his face appears against the backs of my eyelids. He can't be here. I watched him die. I watched the life leave his eyes. I watched the blood drain from his chest. He can't be here. But he is.

I open my eyes to meet his.

"Freya," he says. "My girl."

I reach out for him, but he's slightly too far. I step closer, stepping into him but he escapes my grip once again. "Dad."

"Come to me."

"I'm trying, I'm—"

A gust of wind blows him away from me, the black cloud curling around me like an embrace. I twist around, panicked, trying to search for him in the dark.

"Dad!"

A scream echoes through the trees.

All the warmth from my body seeps through my pores. I sprint forward, off the track, my heart hammering relentlessly against my chest as I follow the sounds of the cries. They grow closer. In the inky cloud, they emerge–

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