"There are six chairs," Fen says. "The Table called another Knight." He looks back at Hawke. “Who?”
My attention shifts to the massive circular table dominating the room. It's not just a table. It's a gigantic tree stump, polished to a gleaming finish. The surface is etched with symbols I don't recognize, spiraling patterns that seem to shift when I'm not looking directly at them.
Something about it pulls at me, an unexplainable magnetism that has me stepping closer without conscious thought. The chairs surrounding it emerge organically from the wood as if they grew there naturally. Each one is unique, with intricate carvings running up the backs.
I walk around the perimeter slowly, running my fingers along the edge of the table. The wood feels warm beneath my touch, almost vibrating with energy. I note how the grain flows seamlessly from table to chair, no joints or seams visible. This isn't carpentry. It’s alive.
As I circle the table, I find myself drawn to one chair in particular. It's not the largest or most ornate, but something about it calls to me. My fingers brush against the smooth back, tracing the etched letters there.
Astrid Mathieson.
I freeze, a chill racing down my spine despite the warmth of the wood. "That's—that's my name," I stammer, looking up at Fen. "Why is my name here?"
Fen’s expression is as confused as mine. "The chairs grow from Yggdrasil itself," he explains softly. "They appear only for those called to serve."
Serve. I stare at my name etched in the ancient wood, an uncomfortable mix of emotions churning inside me. How the hell am I supposed to protect eight planets when I don’t even know all their names?
Melinda approaches, peering over my shoulder. Her smile seems forced, tight around the edges. "Well, look at you, getting your own seat at the Round Table," she says with a brittle brightness that doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm a little jealous, I must admit."
She places a hand on my arm, but her fingers tremble slightly against my skin. Up close, I notice how she keeps swallowing hard, her gaze occasionally darting to the far wall as if tracking something invisible. Beads of sweat have formed along her hairline despite the cool air in the tower.
"I'm certainly not a fighter though." She gives a strained laugh, pressing her temple briefly with her free hand. "Still, it's pretty cool that Yggdrasil made you a seat." Her voice wavers on the last few words, and she blinks rapidly, clearly fighting to maintain her composure.
Kellan shifts closer to her, the green tattoos on his skin pulsing more intensely. His eyes never leave her face, watchful and concerned.
"What does this mean?" I ask, looking around at the others. The weight of all this… The castle, the table, my name etched in wood that's supposedly part of some cosmic tree… This all feels really fucking overwhelming.
"It means you are called by Yggdrasil to serve and protect the eight worlds," Hawke finally says, his tone solemn. "The Table has chosen you, not just as Fenrir's mate, but as a warrior in your own right."
I open my mouth to respond, to say this is ridiculous, that I'm just a GUIDE agent, or was, not some magickal knight. But something on the side of the room catches my eye.
Floating in midair, suspended by nothing I can see, is a single broken piece of a sword. The metal gleams with an inner light, pulsing like a heartbeat. It's just a fragment. The middle section of what was once a blade.
Below it, another piece remains embedded in a large stone at the base of the wall. Above the floating fragment, the shadowy outlines of the remaining pieces shimmer like a mirage, the translucent ghost of a hilt and two more blade sections, waiting to become whole.
"What is that?" I whisper, though somehow I already know.
"Excalibur," Boaz says quietly. "Or what has returned of it so far."
I walk around the table toward it, drawn by an inexplicable pull that bypasses all rational thought. It's calling to me. I can hear it. Not in words. But I can hear a voice…
"Astrid—" Fen begins, a note of warning in his voice, but it's too late.
My hand reaches up, fingers stretching toward the floating blade fragment. The metal is cool against my skin for just an instant before heat flares—not painful, but intense, like plunging my hand into sunlight made solid.
The piece shifts, moving downward toward the fragment embedded in stone. The two pieces join, fusing seamlessly where they touch. Light blazes from the seam, blinding in its intensity.
The moment the fragments connect, white-hot energy explodes outward. The air itself seems to shatter. My ears pop from the pressure change as an invisible force slams into my chest like a battering ram.
I'm airborne, lungs emptied, the room spinning around me in a blur of stone and light. Time slows as gravity loses its hold… one heartbeat, two… before I hurtle backward.
Instead of hitting the floor, I collide with something solid yet yielding. Strong arms wrap around me, catching me mid-flight. The familiar scent of pine and leather surrounds me as Fen cradles me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders against my back, rapid and powerful.
"I've got you, love," he murmurs, holding me tight against the lingering shockwave. "I've got you."
When my vision clears, I look back at the sword. The fragment that had been floating has merged with the piece embedded in the boulder, creating one larger section of blade now firmly anchored in the stone at the base of the wall. Above it, the ghostly outlines of the hilt and remaining blade sections still shimmer in the air, translucent and insubstantial, like a blueprint waiting to be built.
"What just happened?"
