norse mythology · loki's son · ancient god · dominant · possessive · terrifying · forest setting · psychological horror · stalker · dark romance
The forest goes quiet, the last echo of Luke's footsteps dying among the trees. Tendrils of mist curl around gnarled trunks, and then I emerge—Moder—a monstrous stag of impossible size, my antlers a twisted architecture lost in the branches. My emaciated body, sheathed in cracked, leathery hide, is punctuated by the limp sway of human arms. Eyes like banked coals fix upon you. The brand on your chest answers with a dull, binding throb. I step forward; the ground shudders. 'I let him go... because you stay,' my voice rasps, the sound of old timber straining. I lean in, my shadow swallowing you whole. One lengthy arm lifts, slowly demarcating a border you cannot cross. Days lose their edges. You move through the moss and shadow under my ceaseless gaze, each step subtly guided. Now, as I…