Hope heated low in her belly as Elara scanned the fire. She let it swirl there, hovering over her outstretched palms.
First, she had to find the tear in the veil, having no idea how she was supposed to close it.
As if answering her, the fire in hands pulsed. It gently glided across the monotone expanse of lifelessness. Elara tracked its movements, sucking in a breath.
It rose higher, revealing a jagged splinter in the distance.
“Okay. But how do I fix it?”
The mumbled question slipped out. She had never gotten far enough with Hlif to figure out what she was supposed to do once she got here.
Pain slithered up her jaw as she gritted her teeth, staring into the glow of her seiðr.
“Help me. Show me,” she whispered.
The golden light hissed as jutted forward, touching the obsidian edge of the rupture.
Elara watched as her seiðr hummed and pushed against the tear, guiding her with its movements. Understanding washed over her, and Elara sucked in a steady breath.
Will was the needle and her seiðr was the thread.
Closing her eyes, she focused on a shimmering strand of silver light. It glowed hot, almost purring under her touch. A smile tugged on her lip, so much love dripping from the glittering cord of light.
With steady hands, she tethered it to her golden seiðr.
She plunged her hands into the edge of the void.
White-hot flames licked over her limbs, the sensation agonizing. The tips of her teeth teetered on the verge of shattered as she tried to focus on anything beside the pain sizzling in her blood. Shaking, Elara tried to sew, imagining it was no more than a torn pair of trews needing mending.
Stitch by stitch she worked, afraid she might pass out from the pain before she finished.
Then she heard the gruff rumble of Njáll’s voice. His timbre was nowhere and everywhere all at once.
“I love you. My flame. My light. My life. My kona. I will not fail you.”
Tears pricked her eyes.
“I won’t fail you,” she whispered.
His words dulled the worst of the burn devouring her.
Slowly, the golden and silver threads twirled together, sealing a corner of the tear.
One stitch.
Only a few thousand more to go.
The tear roared a soundless vibration. One that made her soul grow cold.
The screams of dying stars vanished one by one, whispers of forgotten gods calling to her. Indistinct energy rushed from the tear, swirling around her, clawing at her golden threads, trying to unravel her work faster than she could keep up.
She ignored them, her body aching as she worked.
The veil continued to spill through, playing cruel tricks on her.
Shadows took shape, wearing the faces of those she’d shared a home with for weeks now. She saw the village she had fought to protect, the eyes of the people who relied on her.
“Why bother, Elara?” the shadows whispered, their voices a chilling harmony. “You have already lost. Give up. Step into the dark. There is no pain in the void.”
