"Thorfinn." A familiar voice cut through the noise, sending an unexpected jolt through his chest. He turned slowly, his heart beating quicker.
Arwyn stood there, dressed in fine garments befitting royalty. Her long blonde hair was woven intricately, framing a face that had grown even more beautiful with time. Her blue eyes watched him closely, and the soft fabric of her clothing clung gracefully to her slender, athletic frame, accentuating her body to an incredible degree.
"Arwyn," Thorfinn said, fighting to keep his voice steady.
They stood quietly, tension building between them until she finally spoke. "You look well... your hair is different," she commented.
Thorfinn let a small smile form on his face. "I stick out with my regular hair," he replied, he then nodded towards her,"You look different as well, like one of the princesses from Northumbria."
Arwyn smiled at that. "Thank you... At first I couldn't believe how different I looked, that I could actually look beautiful."
"You've always been beautiful," Thorfinn said as he looked into her eyes.
Arwyn felt her heart beat fast as he said that. He seemed different than usual, much calmer. She wondered what happened these past 8 months that changed him so much. "How have you been?" She asked. "Did you ever manage to find Geralt, I tried for a while but it seemed he left the city."
Thorfinn nodded. "Yeah I found him, he hasn't left the city just yet," he replied, being a little careful not to reveal anything too much.
Arwyn smiled brightly. "I'm glad, I worried that both of you had just left the city."
"Where would I have gone?" he asked dryly.
Arwyn shrugged gently. "Kattegat, after Dahlia? I'm not sure. Niketas told me that after he let you go, you had no reason to remain here."
Thorfinn laughed bitterly. "Niketas let me go? Is that really what he said?"
She frowned deeply, her brows knitting together. "I know you dislike him, Thorfinn, but he's been good to me. He's helped me without asking anything in return."
Thorfinn crossed his arms firmly, anger simmering in his chest. "Niketas is a disease in this city, one that will eventually be cut out. I thought you'd been kidnapped by him—but clearly you've joined him willingly."
Arwyn's eyes flashed angrily as she strode toward him, voice lowering dangerously. "Don't speak of my friends that way."
Thorfinn took a deliberate step forward, meeting her head-on. "What will you do about it?"
She seized his tunic roughly. "Don't mistake me for some weak girl, Thorfinn. Don't forget what I am."
He snorted dismissively. "I haven't forgotten. But it seems you have, joining the enemy."
"The enemy?" she snarled, fury lighting her gaze. "We seek lasting peace! But you wouldn't understand. You're just a Viking. A killer. A savage."
Each word fell like a blow. Thorfinn's anger flared, and he shoved her roughly away. "Your order seeks control over everyone. You'd rob them of freedom."
"Freedom leads to death," she spat back. "Freedom leads men like you to slaughter families and enslave the survivors."
They glared silently, tension thick between them until Arwyn exhaled shakily. "I thought you might've changed," she whispered. "But even half a decade since we met and you're still the same man."
She turned, walking slowly away from him.
Thorfinn watched her back, the words rising in his throat before he could stop them. "I'm not the same man I was," he admitted. "And I'm not too proud to say that I've missed you."
She halted immediately, turning slowly back, her expression caught between anger and sadness. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I want you to come with me when I leave," Thorfinn said simply.
Conflict danced in her eyes. She stepped toward him slowly. "I have a purpose here. I can make people's lives better."
Suddenly, she closed the distance, leaning up and pressing her lips firmly to his, a brief but powerful kiss. Before he could react fully, her fist slammed into his stomach, drawing a grunt from him as he doubled slightly.
"Arwyn there is a lot I must tell you, please talk with me after the match..." Thorfinn said a little pleadingly. He had to tell her about the assassins, about Geralt, about the true nature of Niketas and his connection to the Vampires. Thorfinn had to believe she didn't know, he didn't want to believe that she was accomplice to such dark creatures.
Arwyn didn't speak for a moment but after a while she nodded. "After the match..." She stepped back, eyes blazing, breathing hard. Thorfinn smiled faintly despite the pain, watching as she turned and strode away.
A loud voice boomed through the chamber, the announcer calling loudly, "FIGHTERS TO YOUR POSITIONS! THE FINAL ROUND AWAITS!"
Thorfinn straightened slowly, gathering himself as the call echoed through the stone halls. With one final glance at Arwyn's retreating figure, he turned and moved toward the waiting arena.
Meanwhile Arwyn walked quickly back towards the box, still feeling the heat beneath her skin after her argument with Thorfinn. She hated how easily he could get to her, though she took some solace in knowing he was just as easily annoyed by her. Thea—whom she'd asked to wait while she spoke to Thorfinn—saw her emerge from the gladiator holding room and quickly moved to meet her.
"Are you alright, my lady?" Thea asked gently, concern evident in her voice. "You seem very upset."
Arwyn took a sharp breath, still struggling to calm herself. "I'm fine," she snapped more harshly than she'd intended. Seeing Thea's slight flinch, Arwyn closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to regain control. She exhaled slowly before reopening them, her voice softer now. "It's nothing, really. Let's just return to the box."
Thea studied her carefully, eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. She clearly didn't believe Arwyn but chose not to press further. Instead, she nodded once. "As you wish, my lady," she replied quietly.
...
The sun hung low, casting an amber glow over the colosseum as eight warriors stood on the bloodstained sand. Thorfinn gripped his sword, he was glad that he could use it as no other sword felt as right as this one; even if he still couldn't clean that creatures blood off of it. Lambert stood nearby looking pleased that he had his own sword back away. The Nubian, held a long whip, its leather coils sliding through his fingers as he grinned at the roaring crowd. The other fighters clutched their weapons each shifting into ready stances. The announcer stood on the dais, his arms raised. "Ladies and gentlemen, the final event! Eight gladiators remain, and as the sun sets, only one will stand victorious! Let the blood flow, and let destiny crown its champion!"
Thorfinn's eyes flicked upward briefly, then back to the arena. The horn blared and the fight began.
A massive man with a hammer charged Thorfinn. His boots thudded on the sand, arms swinging the weapon high. Thorfinn watched the hammer arc upward, the man's shoulders tensing as he prepared to strike. As the hammer descended, Thorfinn pushed off his left foot, leaping upward. The hammer slammed into the sand, sending grains spraying outward, the impact vibrating through the ground. Thorfinn, still airborne, twisted his torso and drove his sword downward. The blade entered the man's neck just above the collarbone, steel sliding through muscle and sinew. Blood sprayed as the man's eyes widened. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, the hammer slipping from his grip. Thorfinn landed beside him, pulling his sword free with a wet scrape. He knelt briefly, wiping the blade on the man's tunic, the blood leaving a dark smear.
Thorfinn stood, scanning the arena he was glad no one else charged him, he looked over to his left and saw Lambert; his opponent had a spear that he was currently thrusting forward. Lambert sidestepped, grabbing the spear's shaft with his left hand and yanking it downward. The man stumbled, and Lambert's sword flashed, cutting across the man's chest. The spearman fell, clutching the wound as blood poured between his fingers. Lambert stepped back and stabbed down with his sword ending the man's life.
Further across the arena, the Nubian faced three opponents. A swordsman swung at him, the blade slicing toward his chest. The Nubian leaned back, the sword missing by inches, and snapped his whip. The leather cracked, wrapping around the swordsman's wrist. The Nubian yanked, pulling the man's arm upward, exposing his side. The whip snapped again, striking the man's ribs, leaving a red welt. A second opponent, wielding an axe, rushed forward. The Nubian spun, his whip lashing out, coiling around the axe's handle. He pulled, jerking the weapon from the man's grip, sending it skidding across the sand. The third opponent, a woman with a short spear, thrust at the Nubian's leg. He jumped, the spear grazing the air beneath him, and cracked the whip across her face. She staggered, clutching her cheek as blood trickled down. The Nubian laughed as he fought them; Thorfinn noted that he had a great degree of ability with the whip, not many people would be able to use such a weapon both offensively and defensively.
Lambert approached Thorfinn, a grin stretched adores his face. "Why don't we give the crowd a real show?"
Thorfinn glanced at him, then nodded. "Why not."
They faced each other, swords raised. Lambert moved first, stepping forward and thrusting his blade toward Thorfinn's chest. Thorfinn angled his sword, deflecting the strike with a clang, the impact jarring his arm. Sparks flared where the blades met. Lambert pulled back, and they circled, boots scuffing the sand. Thorfinn kept his knees bent, watching Lambert's shoulders for the next move.
"Eight months," Lambert said, his voice uncharacteristically dark, "and you're this good. A prodigy, aren't you?"
Thorfinn didn't respond. He stepped forward, swinging his sword in a low arc toward Lambert's side. Lambert twisted, bringing his blade down to block, the iron clashing with a sharp ring. Thorfinn pivoted on his heel, redirecting his swing toward Lambert's leg. Lambert jumped back, his sword sweeping downward to parry, the blades scraping together. Lambert countered, thrusting toward Thorfinn's shoulder. Thorfinn ducked, feeling the blade pass close enough to stir the air above his head. He surged upward, driving his fist into Lambert's stomach. Lambert grunted, stumbling back, his free hand clutching his abdomen.
Lambert recovered, lunging forward. His sword slashed toward Thorfinn's chest. Thorfinn parried, their blades locking, iron grinding against iron. He pushed forward, forcing Lambert's blade upward, then swung his left elbow at Lambert's jaw. Lambert leaned back, the elbow missing, and thrust his sword at Thorfinn's side. Thorfinn twisted, the blade grazing his tunic, and grabbed Lambert's wrist with his left hand. He yanked, pulling Lambert off-balance. Lambert twisted his arm free, slamming his own elbow into Thorfinn's ribs. Thorfinn exhaled sharply, pain flaring, but swung his sword upward. Lambert blocked, the blades clanging, and kicked Thorfinn's shin. Thorfinn staggered, his leg throbbing, but swung again, aiming for Lambert's arm. Lambert sidestepped, slashing at Thorfinn's chest. Thorfinn leaned back, the blade missing, and countered with a thrust to Lambert's thigh. Lambert parried, their swords striking with a shower of sparks.
"Decades," Lambert said, his voice getting darker and darker, "training, pushing past limits, and a kid like you makes it look easy."
Thorfinn frowned, stepping back. "What are you talking about?"
Lambert's eyes narrowed. He swung his sword in a wide arc, leaving his chest open. Thorfinn hesitated, then stepped forward, thrusting toward Lambert's shoulder. Lambert sidestepped, grabbing Thorfinn's arm and kicking his chest. Thorfinn slid back on the sand, boots digging in to stop his momentum. Lambert rushed forward, swinging his sword at Thorfinn's neck. Thorfinn raised his blade, blocking the strike, the impact sending a jolt through his arms. Lambert pressed forward, slashing again and again. Thorfinn parried each blow, the swords clanging rapidly, iron flashing in the fading light.
"I hate feeling weak," Lambert growled. He swung his sword at Thorfinn's head. Thorfinn ducked, the blade whistling past, and thrust toward Lambert's chest. Lambert twisted, deflecting the strike, and kicked Thorfinn's knee. Thorfinn stumbled, pain shooting through his leg, but swung his sword upward. Lambert blocked, their blades locking. Thorfinn pushed forward, trying to force Lambert back, but Lambert twisted his wrist, breaking the lock, and slashed at Thorfinn's arm. Thorfinn pulled back, the blade cutting air, and swung at Lambert's side. Lambert parried, then thrust at Thorfinn's throat. Thorfinn leaned to the side, the blade grazing his shoulder, and grabbed Lambert's arm, pulling him forward. He drove his knee into Lambert's stomach. Lambert gasped, stumbling, but swung his sword at Thorfinn's leg. Thorfinn jumped back, the blade missing, and slashed at Lambert's chest. Lambert blocked, the swords striking with a loud clang.
Lambert's eyes flashed. He raised his left hand, fingers tracing a quick pattern. A burst of flame shot from his palm, the Igni sign igniting the air. The fire hit Thorfinn's chest, heat searing his skin. He stumbled back, his tunic smoldering, pain lancing through him as blisters formed. Lambert lunged, his sword slicing across Thorfinn's side. The blade cut through fabric and flesh, blood welling instantly. Thorfinn grunted, clutching the wound with his left hand, and raised his right hand. He cast Aard, a blast of force exploding from his palm. The air rippled, and Lambert flew backward, tumbling across the sand, his sword skidding away.
Thorfinn pressed his hand against his side, blood seeping between his fingers. "What are you doing!?" he shouted, stepping forward. "You'll expose us! If you've got a problem, wait until after the mission!"
Lambert pushed himself up, sand clinging to his tunic. He smirked, wiping blood from his nose. "A prodigy, but still a brute. A fucking savage."
Thorfinn's grip tightened on his sword. He charged, swinging at Lambert's chest. Lambert rolled to the side, grabbing his sword from the sand, and stood, casting Quen. A faint golden glow surrounded him. Thorfinn swung again, his blade striking the shield, the impact sending a vibration up his arm. Lambert slashed at Thorfinn's leg, but Thorfinn jumped back, the blade missing. He thrust forward, aiming for Lambert's shoulder. Lambert sidestepped, the Quen shield fading, and swung at Thorfinn's head. Thorfinn ducked, the blade passing overhead, and drove his shoulder into Lambert's chest. Lambert stumbled, swinging his sword wildly. Thorfinn parried, the blades clanging, and punched Lambert's jaw with his left fist. Lambert's head snapped back, blood spraying from his lip.
Lambert laughed, wiping his mouth. "Show me that famous skill, Thorfinn!" He swung his sword in a high arc. Thorfinn blocked, the blades striking with a shower of sparks. Lambert kicked Thorfinn's shin, pain flaring, but Thorfinn swung his sword at Lambert's arm. Lambert twisted, the blade grazing his sleeve, and thrust at Thorfinn's chest. Thorfinn sidestepped, grabbing Lambert's wrist and twisting. Lambert grunted, pulling free, and slashed at Thorfinn's side. Thorfinn leaned back, the blade missing, and swung at Lambert's leg. Lambert jumped, the sword passing beneath him, and kicked Thorfinn's chest. Thorfinn stumbled, catching himself, and thrust at Lambert's shoulder. Lambert parried, their blades locking.
Thorfinn pushed forward, forcing Lambert's blade upward, then swung his left fist at Lambert's face. Lambert ducked, the punch missing, and slashed at Thorfinn's arm. Thorfinn pulled back, the blade cutting air, and kicked Lambert's knee. Lambert staggered, swinging his sword at Thorfinn's head. Thorfinn blocked, the impact jarring his arms, and thrust at Lambert's chest. Lambert twisted, the blade grazing his side, and punched Thorfinn's jaw. Thorfinn's head snapped to the side, pain exploding, but he swung his sword at Lambert's leg. Lambert jumped back, the blade missing, and thrust at Thorfinn's throat. Thorfinn leaned to the side, the blade passing close, and grabbed Lambert's arm, pulling him forward. He drove his elbow into Lambert's chest. Lambert gasped, stumbling, and swung his sword at Thorfinn's side. Thorfinn parried, the blades clanging, and kicked Lambert's shin. Lambert fell to one knee, swinging his sword upward. Thorfinn blocked, the impact sending a jolt through his arms, and swung at Lambert's shoulder. Lambert rolled to the side, the blade missing, and stood, thrusting at Thorfinn's chest.
Thorfinn sidestepped, grabbing Lambert's wrist and twisting. Lambert grunted, his sword falling from his grip. Thorfinn kicked Lambert's chest, sending him sprawling onto the sand. Lambert's sword lay a few feet away, glinting in the fading light. Thorfinn stepped forward, with his ssword raised, his side still burning from the earlier cut and use of igni.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Thorfinn shouted, his voice echoing in the arena.
Lambert pushed himself up, sand falling from his tunic. He glanced at the crowd, where figures in dark cloaks stood, hands on their weapons. Guards moved through the stands, their armor clinking. Lambert smirked. "You don't get it, do you?"
The Nubian approached, his whip coiled in his hand, blood dripping from its tip. His opponents lay defeated behind him, their bodies motionless on the sand. "Brother," he called out loudly, "it is time for our legendary showdown."
Thorfinn kept his eyes on Lambert, his sword still raised. "What are you talking about?"
Lambert stood, brushing sand from his tunic. "The Templar knew your plan from the start, idiot. They've been waiting..."
Thorfinn's eyes widened. He gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles whitening. He charged at Lambert, swinging his blade at his chest. Lambert raised his hand, casting Aard. A blast of force hit Thorfinn, sending him sliding back across the sand. Lambert cast Yrden, purple glyphs glowing on the ground. Thorfinn's boots caught in the trap, his movements slowing. He strained, muscles tensing, and broke free, the glyphs fading. Lambert ran, disappearing behind a line of guards rushing into the arena, their swords drawn.
Thorfinn stood in the center of the colosseum, blood dripping from the gash in his side, his sword heavy in his right hand. The guards encircled him, their boots kicking up clouds of sand, their blades catching the fading amber light. He glanced at Lambert's retreating form, the Witcher disappearing behind a wall of armored figures, then at the Nubian, who stood a few paces away, his whip coiled in his hand, his stance loose but ready. Thorfinn tightened his grip on his sword, his chest heaving with each breath, and prepared to fight.
The Nubian's voice boomed across the arena. "Not to worry, brother! We will defeat these enemies!"
Thorfinn felt a surge of divine magic flood his veins, the power tingling through his muscles, sharpening his senses, and amplifying his strength. A guard lunged toward him, swinging a longsword at his chest. Thorfinn stepped to the left, his boots sliding on the sand, and brought his sword up in a swift arc. The blade sliced across the guard's throat, cutting through flesh and muscle. Blood sprayed, and the guard's hands flew to his neck as he collapsed, his sword clattering to the ground. Another guard rushed forward, thrusting a short sword at Thorfinn's stomach. Thorfinn twisted his torso, the blade missing by inches, and swung his sword downward with divine-enhanced force. The strike shattered the guard's blade, steel fragments scattering across the sand. Thorfinn followed with a punch, channeling quake magic into his fist. His knuckles connected with the guard's chest, the impact cracking the man's iron breastplate. The guard flew backward, tumbling across the sand, his armor dented, and lay still.
To his right, the Nubian moved fast. A guard swung a mace at his head, but the Nubian leaned back, the weapon whistling past his face. His whip cracked, the leather coiling around the guard's wrist. He yanked, pulling the guard's arm upward, and snapped the whip again, striking the man's cheek. The guard screamed, blood streaming from the gash, and dropped his mace. Another guard thrust a spear at the Nubian's leg. The Nubian spun, his whip lashing out, wrapping around the spear's shaft. He pulled, jerking the weapon from the guard's hands, and cracked the whip across the man's face before catching the spear and impaling it into him. The guard stumbled, clutching his eyes, and fell to his knees. A third guard swung a sword at the Nubian's side. The Nubian jumped, the blade passing beneath him, and snapped his whip, striking the guard's forearm. The guard dropped his sword, blood dripping from the welt, and staggered back.
Thorfinn scanned the arena, his eyes darting to the stands. Assassins in dark cloaks fought against a swarm of guards. Witchers moved among them, casting signs—flames from Igni, blasts from Aard—while guards pressed forward, their numbers overwhelming. Thorfinn's gaze snapped to the royal box, where the Queen stood, her hands resting on the stone railing. The Queen's voice echoed over the arena. "Your plans were always known to us! We drew you here intentionally, assassins and Witchers alike. Now we will eliminate you all!"
Thorfinn's jaw clenched, fury surging through him. He spotted a fallen guard nearby, a spear lying beside the body. He sprinted forward, grabbing the spear with his left hand, his muscles tensing as he channeled divine strength. He hurled the spear toward the royal box, the weapon slicing through the air. A blur moved in front of the Queen. Arwyn caught the spear mid-flight, her fingers wrapping around the shaft, stopping it inches from the Queen's chest. Her eyes met Thorfinn's, filled with sadness. Thorfinn's chest tightened, betrayal cutting deeper than the wound in his side.
The Queen's lips curled into a cold smile. "Kill the assassins. Capture the Witchers... and him." She pointed at Thorfinn.
Thorfinn growled, sensing the guards closing in, their boots thudding on the sand. He threw his arms wide, channeling quake energy. The air cracked, a deep rumble shaking the colosseum. The ground trembled, sand shifting beneath his feet, and small stones rattled loose from the arena walls. He poured more energy outward, the vibrations intensifying. A column to his left cracked, a jagged line splitting the stone. Masonry crumbled, chunks falling to the sand. Spectators screamed, scrambling from their seats as the stands shook. A figure leapt from the royal box, landing in the arena with a soft thud. Arwyn's eyes widened, her grip tightening on the spear. Thea stood before Thorfinn, she moved towards him calmly, her dark hair untouched by the swirling sand.
Thea's voice was soft. "Such an impressive human. Descended from gods, yet so much more. I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to bring down my colosseum."
Thorfinn roared, channeling quake magic into his fist. He swung at Thea's chest, his knuckles glowing with power. She caught his fist with her left hand, as if he'd struck a stone wall. Thorfinn's eyes widened, shock coursing through him. Before he could react, Thea pushed his arm downward, her strength overwhelming. She shoved him with her right hand, sending him soaring across the arena. He crashed through three guards, their bodies tumbling like ragdolls, and hit the sand hard, pain exploding through his back.
The Nubian shouted, "Not to worry, brother!" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin, and flipped it into the air. The coin spun, glinting, and landed in the sand. The Nubian's eyes widened as he saw the result. "Shit," he muttered. His knees buckled, and he collapsed face-first onto the sand, his whip slipping from his hand.
Thorfinn staggered to his feet, his side burning, blood soaking his tunic. He gripped his sword with both hands, channeling divine light into the blade. The iron glowed faintly, pulses of white energy rippling along its edge. He faced Thea across the arena, his boots digging into the sand. In a blink, she vanished, reappearing directly in front of him. Thorfinn swung his sword at her chest, the glowing blade slicing through the air. Thea stepped to the side, the strike missing by inches, and vanished again. She reappeared behind him, her movements a blur. Thorfinn spun, swinging his sword at her neck. She leaned back, the blade passing over her, and stepped forward, her hand brushing his arm.
Thorfinn shouted, "Who are you?"
Thea's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Don't you recognize me? Your order has sought my death for quite some time."
Thorfinn's eyes widened as realization hit. "Vampire," he whispered.
Thea inclined her head. "Cleopatra VI Thea Philopator. And you are Thorfinn Hellbane...or Jotunsbane, you have many names from what I hear. Arwyn speaks often of you. So much that I wanted to see if you're just a brute, or truly favored by gods."
Thorfinn gritted his teeth, his annoyance flaring. He lunged, swinging his glowing sword at her shoulder. Thea raised her left hand, catching the blade between her fingers, stopping it cold. Thorfinn pushed forward, muscles straining, but the sword didn't budge. Thea twisted her wrist, yanking the blade from his grip, and tossed it aside. It landed in the sand with a soft thud. Thorfinn swung his fist at her face, quake energy pulsing through his arm. Thea caught his wrist, her grip like iron, and twisted, forcing him to his knees. He swung his left fist at her side, but she blocked with her forearm, the impact sending a jolt through his arm. Thea kicked his chest, her boot connecting with a thud, and Thorfinn slid back across the sand.
Thea raised her hand, her fingers tracing a quick gesture. Thorfinn's body froze, his muscles locking in place. She gestured downward, and an invisible force slammed him into the sand, his knees buckling under the pressure. She flicked her wrist, and he flew across the arena, crashing into a pile of broken masonry. Pain flared through his ribs as he struggled to his feet, his vision blurring. Thea gestured again, dragging him back across the sand, his boots scraping as he fought against the force. He stopped in front of her, his sword lying out of reach.
Thorfinn's eyes darted to the stands, searching for his comrades. The assassins were overwhelmed, their blades flashing as guards pressed forward. Thea's voice was soft, almost sweet. "Looking for your comrades? I fear your hopes are dashed." She raised her hand, and the spectators in the stands stood as one, their eyes vacant.
Thorfinn's brow furrowed, confusion mixing with pain. Thea stepped closer, her voice calm. "The drinks served contained my blood. Unknowingly, they became temporary ghouls."
Thorfinn's eyes widened, horror washing over him. Thea's lips curved into a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'm merely sixth generation, I can't maintain control for long with such a large group."
Thorfinn strained against her hold, channeling quake energy into his arms. The air around him crackled, the sand trembling beneath his feet. He broke free, the force dissipating, and lunged for his sword. He grabbed it, swinging at Thea's chest. She vanished, reappearing behind him, and kicked his back. Thorfinn stumbled forward, catching himself, and spun, thrusting his sword at her. She sidestepped, grabbing his wrist and twisting. The sword fell from his hand again, and Thea slammed her palm into his chest. Thorfinn flew backward, crashing into the sand, his vision darkening.
Thea stepped closer, her voice a whisper. "I'm going to enjoy our time together greatly."
Thorfinn tried to move, but he felt too weak. Thea raised her hand, and a sharp strike connected with his temple.
Darkness swallowed him.
(AN: That's it ladies and gentleman, the end of year 3. I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger and the ending may seem a little rush, but all things considered I think it wasn't too bad. Year 4 is gonna have all our heroes in the grasp of the evil templars. After that it's gonna be home to Kattegat and in time to kick off our second raid to Britain. Anyway i hope you enjoyed the chapter. )
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