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6 years before The Summerlight Gathering

Declan Durinson sat in the ancient throne of Clan Kanaka, carved from the bone-white wood of a large tree from The Wolf’s Wood, veins of rich red sap remained visible still nearly a millennium after its creation.


The hearth fires were roaring loud as Fafnir himself and with each bucket of chips fed to fire the servers plumes of sweet smelling smoke flowed over the floor like making it seem as though they feasted inside the great beast’s gaping maw, the sting of the smoke brought water to his eyes making the world around him even more of a haze,

This feast was to celebrate his hunt, he and his brothers and their father had felled one of Vidar’s kin, a creature so large to rival the God beast himself. A thousand pounds of it were an ounce. The great black boar was now being roast over the fire, glazed in honey and garlic, stuffed with apples, peaches, onion, breading and spices.
sweet blueberry mead putting a fire in his belly with each drink.

The hall was full of song and cheers, his people were safe and happy and they loved him as he loved them. Dorian was leading the singing with a cup of mead in each hand and a girl on both arms. His voice carried through the hall low and pleasant to the ear, he could have been a bard had the Gods not saw fit to make him Durinsblood.

His brother Durin and his wife sat with their children, a dark-haired boy of around ten with the glimmering green eyes of Durinsblood and three girls, triplets all with hair as red as blood and the same green eyes as their brother and father, they laughed and joined the singing as well as they snacked on lemon cakes and bowls of strawberries and cream. Durin and his wife shared a whisper and a kiss. A year from now and he may have another niece or nephew, Declan’s heart filled with joy. His father and his mother were near the back of the hall chasing their own young pups, his brothers, four boys ranging from twelve to two, they were causing as much havoc as they could get away with. One of them had let four live chickens into the hall and now along with the hounds were running over and under tables, through legs and on backs as they chased the birds. Great gales of laughter came roaring from his father as they always did. He loved to laugh more than anything.

On his right a woman in a dark hooded cloak with tattoos on her chin sat in a throne of her own. Her’s was carved from the dark ebony wood of the yronwood trees. She looked at him and a wicked fanged smile crossed her lips. His breath caught in his chest and for a moment he was struck with fear.

“Father.” A voice said from behind him impatiently tugging his hair hard. “Hold still. I’m almost done…There!”

A girl with dark copper skin, thick curly raven dark hair and the same green eyes that he saw on the rest of his blood came from around his seat grinning from ear to ear, a gap in her front teeth made her even more beautiful and she was already the most beautiful thing that had ever or would ever be. She had been practicing her braids and braided Declan’s hair decorating it with wild flowers so purple they could’ve been black

“And how do I look?” He asked warmly.

“Eins og kóngur. Eins og Anasi.” The woman next to him said leaning in for a kiss. It was soft at first but it did not take long for them to give into passion. She had tasted sweet like oranges but as they became more passionate he could taste the blood. When their embrace ended the hall was no longer filled with music or joy or life.

All who were there. His brothers, his parents, the girl with the gap in her teeth and everyone in between lay sprawled in disturbing and gut-turning positions covered in blood. Their throats had been torn out or their hearts had been removed, some of them disemboweled. All were dead.

He looked down and his own hands were slick with blood so dark it looked like ink and there was a strange weight upon his head. He reached blood soaked hand up and pulled from his head a crown of pale rose gold so pure it was white. It was decorated with dark purple and yellow stones and the blood from his hands, from his family.

The music was gone but the hall was filled with a deep velvet laughter that made him want to wretch.


He was woken by a gruff voice and a boot

Like a King. Like an Anasi

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