The late afternoon sun cast long, skeletal shadows from the headstones of the Mag Mell Memorial Grounds, painting the grass in stripes of gold and deep grey. Dáinn stood beside Skógr, his hands working the worn leather of the girth strap with a practiced ease that spoke of centuries of repetition. The buckle clicked into place with a solid, satisfying sound. The great black horse stood impossibly still, his coat shing in the light, his breathing a soft, steady rhythm in the quiet cemetery.
Eris approached, her steps slowing as she took in the sight. There was a raw, functional grace to Dáinn's movements, a complete absorption in the task that was somehow more intimate than any grand gesture. He was just a man preparing his horse for a journey, yet the scene felt pulled from a forgotten tapestry.
Skógr turned his massive head and nickered, a soft, welcoming sound that broke her trance.
Dáinn looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes finding her. Eris grinned, a little breathless. "Hey."
She walked forward, pulling two slightly bent carrots from her jacket pocket. Skógr pawed the ground with a hoof, his intelligent eyes fixed on the offering.
"See? I told you I wouldn't forget," Eris said, holding out the carrots. The horse lipped them gently from her palm before crunching down with a sound like snapping twigs.
She smirked up at Dáinn as she stroked the solid, warm muscle of Skógr's neck. "He remembers a friend."
Dáinn rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked its usual sharpness. "Sell out," he muttered to his steed.
Skógr shook his head, his dark mane flying, as if insulted by the accusation.
With a fluid motion that seemed to defy his size, Dáinn threw the reins over Skógr's neck and mounted, settling into the saddle with the ease of a man slipping into a familiar chair. He then reached down, his hand calloused and strong. "Up."
Eris fumbled for a moment, her own hands seeming small and clumsy in comparison. She placed her foot in the stirrup he offered and he pulled, her weight seeming insignificant to him. She swung her leg over, settling not behind the saddle, but directly onto the horse's powerful withers, straddling his neck just in front of Dáinn. The position was shockingly intimate, putting her entirely within the circle of his arms.
"So, what should I hold onto?" she asked, her voice a notch higher than usual.
Dáinn leaned forward to gather the reins, his arms effectively caging her. The rough texture of his sleeves brushed against her sides. Eris's breath hitched, her whole body aware of the solid wall of him at her back.
He, in turn, took in a slow, deep breath. The clinical scent of her university laundry soap and the faint, sweet smell of her shampoo were a strange, pleasant overlay on the familiar scents of leather and horse.
"You can grip his mane if you grow nervous," Dáinn said, his voice a low rumble close to her ear. "But I will not let you fall."
He shifted, the movement causing her to press back against his chest. "You know the way?"
"Oh! Yeah." Eris fumbled in her pocket again, pulling out her phone. The bright screen looked absurdly out of place. She pulled up her GPS, the blue line charting a course across the map. She pointed a determined finger toward the western horizon, where the sun was beginning to bleed into the hills. "That way."
Dáinn nodded, his chin nearly brushing her hair. "Then hang on tight."
Before she could form a reply, he nudged Skógr with his heels.
The world dropped away.
Eris let out a short, sharp squeal as the ground fell out from beneath them. There was no running start, no gathering of speed. One moment they were standing in a cemetery; the next, they were running on air, Skógr's hooves striking not dirt, but something solid and invisible. The wind tore at her hair and clothes, a roaring river in her ears. Below, the lights of Aldis twinkled into life, a scattered handful of jewels, and the Blue Ridge Mountains became a dark, rumpled blanket against the dying light. They were flying, not like a bird, but like a storm, a concentrated bolt of shadow and purpose racing across the sky.
The world became a tapestry of deepening blues and fiery oranges, stitched together by the rugged, rolling spine of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The initial shock of liftoff melted into a sustained, breathtaking rush. Skógr's gallop was a thunder that never faded, each powerful stride eating up leagues of sky. The wind was a living force, tearing at Eris's clothes and whipping her hair into a wild, golden banner behind her. She clutched a handful of Skógr's coarse, ink-black mane, her knuckles white, but the fear was already being burned away by a raw, screaming joy.
"OH MY GOD!" she yelled, the words ripped from her lips and scattered into the vastness. The towns below were nothing more than clusters of glowing amber gems, and the highways were rivers of slow-moving diamond dust. "WE'RE ACTUALLY FLYING!"
Dáinn's chest was a solid, unmoving wall against her back, his arms a secure bracket on either side of her as he held the reins. "We are traversing the high paths," he corrected, his voice a low, steady rumble against the wind's roar. "The old roads that forget the ground."
"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU CALL IT, IT'S AMAZING!" Eris laughed, a little hysterically. She leaned slightly, peering down at the dizzying drop. The mountains were a sea of dark green velvet, their peaks looking close enough to touch. "Whoa! Hey, don't dip so close! I can see bears! I think I see bears!"
"They are merely shadows from this height," Dáinn said, though a faint, almost imperceptible amusement colored his tone. "Skógr knows the way. He will not scrape you off on a treetop."
As they soared west, the ancient, worn-down peaks of the Blue Ridge began to give way to the lower, forested folds of the Appalachian foothills. The air grew cooler, carrying the rich, clean scent of endless forests and distant rain. The last sliver of sun vanished, and the world was plunged into a deep, velvety twilight, the sky above transforming into a vast canopy of sharp, unwinking stars. It was a darkness Eris had never seen, untouched by the glow of cities.
"It's so quiet up here," she murmured, the wind now a constant, humming presence rather than a roar. The only sounds were the rhythmic, otherworldly beat of Skógr's hooves on the air and the rush of the wind. "And the stars… they're so close."
"The chatter of your world fades," Dáinn agreed. "These are the same stars that guided the first Hunts. They remember the old names."
Eris leaned back against him, tilting her head to watch the constellations wheel overhead. She could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of Skógr's muscles moving between her legs, a living engine of myth and muscle. The initial terror had completely transformed into a profound, giddy wonder. She was flying on a magical horse with an ancient demigod, under a blanket of stars older than history. It was, without question, the coolest thing that had ever happened to anyone, ever.
Soon, the dark, complex textures of the mountains smoothed into the broader, gentler valleys of Tennessee. The scattered lights of farms and small towns appeared like earthbound constellations. Eris fumbled with her phone, the screen a shocking square of blue-white light in the primordial dark.
"Okay, GPS says we're getting close," she called back, her voice filled with renewed purpose. "The Tennessee River should be just ahead. Look for a really big, dark snake of water."
Dáinn gave a curt nod, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape below with an ability that far surpassed her own or the phone's. He guided Skógr into a gradual descent. The wind's song rose in pitch as they swept down, skimming over the tops of sleeping oak and hickory forests, the scent of damp earth and cool river water rising to meet them.
There it was: the Tennessee River, a wide, dark ribbon of water reflecting the starlight, silent and powerful as it carved its way through the land. A river of tears, Eris thought, the whimsical phrase now feeling heavy and real. Somewhere along these shores, unimaginable sorrow had soaked into the very stones.
"There," Dáinn said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. He pointed toward a particularly broad, moon-silvered bend in the river, where the water looked deep and slow. "That is a place that has known loss."
He guided Skógr in a wide, descending arc, bringing them down toward the riverbank as gently as a falling leaf. The celestial rider was returning to earth, his quest leading him once more into the echoes of mortal pain.
The descent was a smooth, silent glide, the world rising up to meet them in a tapestry of starlit forest and dark, flowing water. Then, without warning, the wind kicked up. It wasn't the natural, rushing river of air from their flight, but a sharp, spiteful gust that slapped against them. Skógr's ears flattened, and he let out a sharp, offended whinny that was torn away by the gale.
"Whoa!" Eris yelled, clutching tighter at his mane as the wind began to howl, tearing leaves from trees and churning the river's surface into a froth. "What's happening? Is this normal sky-road weather?"
Dáinn's body went rigid against her back. "No," he growled, his voice cutting through the shrieking wind. "This is not nature's work. Someone seeks to bar our path."
The air itself seemed to coil around them, the scattered gusts knitting together into a furious, spinning wall of darkness. Debris—branches, leaves, and torn-up sod—lifted from the ground, forming a monstrous funnel that roared with the sound of a thousand screaming voices. The tornado wrapped around them, a cage of howling wind, pulling them from their controlled descent and into its chaotic heart.
Eris panicked, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Dáinn!"
"Hold fast!" he commanded, his voice a rock in the storm. He tightened his arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. "They wish to dash us upon the earth. We will not oblige." He leaned forward, his shout a raw thing against Skógr's neck. "Ride it! Take the wind up through the throat!"
Skógr screamed, a sound of challenge that rivaled the storm's fury. Instead of fighting the pull, the great horse gathered himself and surged upward, driving straight into the maelstrom. The world became a dizzying, violent spin of black and grey. Eris squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face against Skógr's neck, certain they were about to be torn apart.
Then, sudden stillness.
She dared to open her eyes. They were standing, impossibly, on a platform of churning cloud at the very top of the storm. Below their hooves, the entire funnel spun in a terrifying, dark vortex, but here, in the eye, the air was cold and eerily calm. The stars shone clearly overhead, silent witnesses to the madness.
Eris panted, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What now?" she managed, her voice shaky. She looked over her shoulder at Dáinn, a wild, incredulous idea forming. "I mean... it's right over where we need to be. Can we... just wait it out?"
Skógr tossed his head with a snort, as if the idea was personally insulting.
Dáinn's scowl was deep enough to cast its own shadow. "We are not tourists." In one fluid motion, he drew his sword from where it was stowed along the saddle. The blade was long and simple, made of a dark metal that shimmer in the starlight, and it hummed with a low, hungry energy.
Eris's eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"
Dáinn didn't answer. He simply tightened his grip on her and shifted his weight. "Hang on."
"Hang on to what?!" Eris cried, but her voice was lost as Skógr gathered his haunches and dove.
This wasn't a flight; it was a fall. A controlled, deliberate plummet straight down the center of the storm's eye. Eris's scream was torn from her lungs as they hurtled toward the spinning wall of the funnel. Just before they hit the chaotic winds, Dáinn moved. He didn't swing wildly; he drew his arm across his body and then swept the blade out in a wide, perfect arc.
The sword didn't cut through the air; it cut through the idea of the storm. The magic holding it together screamed, a sound of tearing fabric and breaking glass. The roaring wind split along a clean, sizzling line, the two halves of the tornado peeling away from each other like a rotten fruit. They rode the collapsing energy down, a roller-coaster plunge through disintegrating cloud and scattered rain.
They hit the ground with a jolt that shuddered up through Eris's bones, Skógr's hooves sinking into the soft mud of the riverbank. The last tatters of the unnatural storm evaporated overhead, leaving behind only the quiet gurgle of the Tennessee River and the gentle rustle of rain-damp leaves.
Eris sat frozen for a moment, still gripping the mane, her knuckles white. She slowly turned to look at Dáinn, her expression a mixture of sheer terror and blazing admiration.
"You... you just cut a tornado in half with a sword."
Dáinn slid the blade back into its sheath with a definitive click. He met her gaze, his blue eyes still burning with the aftermath of the fight. "It was in the way."