"Remember what I told you," he says, his voice low and gentle. "The first crossing can be disorienting. Keep hold of my hand, it will help."
I nod, tightening my grip on his hand as we approach what he called the event horizon. We step forward together and sink into the silky non-liquid liquid. This is weirder than traveling with sirens through water.
The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced. I’m whole, but I’m not. Colors I've never seen before wash over me. Sounds that have no source echo in my mind. Time stretches and compresses simultaneously.
Then, with a suddenness that leaves me gasping, we're through.
My feet touch solid ground, and I blink rapidly, trying to orient myself. The huge room stretches out before me, vast and breathtaking. Large crowds of people could gather here and it still wouldn’t feel crowded.
Massive doors of wood and steel line the walls, each one unique, each one a gateway to another world. The air here tastes different—sweeter, heavier with magick than Asgard.
"Welcome to the Hall of Realms," Fen says beside me, his voice echoing slightly in the grand space. "The place where all eight worlds intersect."
My eyes are drawn to a particularly imposing door at the far end of the Hall with intricate metal dragons entwined in across its surface like chains.
"Earth," I say softly, the word escaping my lips before I even realize I know it.
"Yes," Fen confirms.
Movement near one of the other doors catches my eye.
Two guards stand at attention, and I have to stop myself from staring. They're massive—easily six and a half feet tall with skin so black it absorbs light like onyx stone. Their eyes glow a brilliant gold and long white hair falls in elaborate braids around elegant pointed ears and past their shoulders. Each wears armor that seems to shift colors like oil on water.
"Fen," I whisper, edging closer to him. "What… who are they?"
"Upir," he murmurs, his hand resting reassuringly on the small of my back. "Dream-walkers from Lamia. They're this year's custodians of Camelot."
"This year's?"
"The responsibility rotates." His eyes track another Upir warrior who passes by with a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Queen Sahsa is sister to Wraith, one of the Knights you'll meet at some point soon."
I take another look at the imposing guards. They stand perfectly still, yet somehow I get the impression they're aware of every movement in the massive hall. One catches me staring and inclines his head slightly in greeting. I nod back awkwardly.
Before I can ask anything else, three figures from across the hall start walking toward us—a tall, regal man with dark hair speckled with silver and piercing blue eyes, and beside him, a woman with auburn hair and a warm smile that somehow eases the tension in my shoulders. Behind them both, another man walks a few steps behind. Huge. Dark hair. Covered in green metallic tattoos.
"Hawke," Fen greets the first man with a nod. "Queen Melinda." He nods to the second man. “Kellan. It’s good to see you.”
“And you, Fenrir,” the big tattooed man answers with an understated smile.
The woman—Melinda—steps forward first, her eyes scanning me with open curiosity. "You must be Astrid," she says, her voice carrying a distinctly American accent. I recognize the Midwestern lilt immediately. I'd been told Melinda was from Earth too, but hearing another American voice in this place is still oddly comforting. "We've been waiting for you."
Movement on her forearm catches my eye and I do a double-take. A tattoo of a dragon, metallic green just like the man standing behind them, is literally moving across her skin. Not shifting with muscle movement—actually slithering and curling like it has a mind of its own.
"Holy shit," I mutter under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away from the animated ink. "That's... that's not a normal tattoo." I've seen a lot of weird things since meeting Fen, but watching art come alive on someone's skin is definitely new territory.
"Welcome to Camelot," Hawke says, his voice deep and resonant. "And to Avalon."
I peel my eyes away from Melinda’s strange tattoo and look up at the man who just spoke. “Sorry, I?—”
He chuckles, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her closer. “Siva takes a minute to get used to. This is Melinda’s somatophylakes,” he gestures to the large man standing behind them, “Kellan of Gilat.”
“He means bodyguard,” Melinda says, stepping forward and shaking my hand. “Also, it’s so good to finally have another human woman in the club.”
“I’m not, I mean, I was, but I’m not.”
Melinda laughs, a sweet rolling chuckle that makes me want to laugh with her. “It’s okay. I more meant that you were from earth. I’m not really human either.”
"Astrid is Asgardian now," Fen says, stepping closer to me.
