Page 79 of Soul of Fire

“By a sorcerer,” Freya interjected, her tone dripping with disgust. “Primitive human spellcasters at best, menaces to the fabric of reality at worst.”

“Yes, the drage are aware of the history of the Rift,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “We were created to fight the odemarksdyr.”

“Yes!” Amaya clapped her hands as if I were a schoolboy who had gotten the right answer. “Good, so you knowsomeof the story then. The Rift was opened, and the darkness beyond terrorized the humans in Stalheim without hope.”

“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand as Eisa looked at me in surprise. “What about the dragons?”

“She’s getting there,” Freya snapped. She turned back to Amaya and whispered loudly, “Perhaps you should have started with creation.”

“Right, well,” Amaya continued, smiling patiently at the older woman. “For centuries, Elysia, the Hearthmother and patron Goddess of humanity, watched her creations suffer and die because of the hubris of that sorcerer. For the realms were meant to be separate always, the fabric of one world never touching another.”

“But the dragons arefromanother world,“ Eisa interjected, looking to me for confirmation. “They struck a deal with the humans to protect them.”

“Oh dear, maybe Ishouldgo back farther,“ Amaya said, looking worriedly at Sigrid.

“The dragons are from no world, child,” Sigrid said, giving me a hard glare as if it were my fault that Eisa was ill-informed. “They are guardians of creation. The offspring of the stars in the divine cosmos that guard our very existence. They livebetween.”

“Between?” I was relieved that Eisa asked so I wouldn’t have to look any more stupid than I already did.

“Between the worlds. Between the fabrics of our realities,” Sigrid added, waving her question away impatiently. “It matters not. The point is that the opening of the was an act of destruction so material to our world and the gods who created it, that somethingelsewas born out of that act. An evil determined to unravel creation. To devour our world, and possibly all worlds.”

“We do not speak its name,” Eisa murmured, her eyes distant as if she were speaking with Idunn.

“What is it?” I asked, squeezing her thigh.

“Idunn told me. Something…hunted the dragons in the darkness. She said they do not speak its name.” She looked up, her eyes clearing as they met mine, terror shining behind them. “And I heard it. In the cave where the Rift had been healed over. It wants to devour everything.”

“And it nearly succeeded once,” Sigrid said, nodding and patting Eisa’s hand. “When the Rift was first opened, it tried to come through. Its darkness seeped into the land like an infection, stripping it until it was nothing but ice and death.

“And so the völva broke the continent,” Freya said, sounding irritated about how long this story was taking. “With Elysia’s blessing, we sundered the world and banished the darkness to cold and ice and nothing, where it would be unable to find a foothold in the world.”

“The Odemark used to be connected to Stalheim?” I tried and failed to remember the coastline from the map I’d seen in the dragehersker’s office.

Amaya nodded, her expression somber. “Many died in the process, their lives and magic given to isolate the Rift so that the darkness had nothing on which to feed.”

“So it sent monsters,” Freya said, clanging the wooden spoon against the copper pot. “Solving one problem to create a different one, as usual.”

“It was never supposed to be a permanent solution,” Amaya said, her patient smile faltering. “Anyway, Elysia wept tears of herown essence for the loyal priestesses who had given their lives to protect humanity. Those Tears fell to the earth, filled with Elysia’s own magic in the hopes that one day, they could be used to close the Rift entirely.”

“The remaining völva guarded the Tears.” Sigrid interjected. “But the king at the time feared our power and hunted us relentlessly. Our temples were sacked. Priestesses were hanged. Those who remained went into hiding, quietly raising their daughters in the old ways and guarding the Tears for one who might wield them.”

I reeled. If this story was in the Book of Chaos, it was in a part I had never seen a record of. Why hide this part of our history from the drage, if we needed the Tears to close the Rift?

I had about a thousand other questions, but as always, my mate had anticipated me.

“Go back to the dragons. Why bother with the drage if the Tears are supposed to close the Rift? Who needs to wield them?”

“One question at a time, child,” Sigrid sighed, coughing again. The old woman looked exhausted, and her decline suddenly made sense.

“The Tear protected you,” I realized. Sigrid had told Eisa that the necklace would keep her safe. The Tear must have kept Sigrid healthy, if not young, while it was still in her possession. She must have known that giving it to Eisa would mean her own decline. “How long?”

Sigrid shrugged. “‘Far longer than it should have.”

She dissolved into another fit of coughing, and Amaya continued for her as Freya refilled her tea.

“It was the Norns who sent the dragons. The fates, who sit on the outside of creation.”

I had to fight not to roll my eyes, wishing Baldur were here to make a snarky comment about my disbelief in fate.