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The world around them dimmed, and Émilien reached for Hel’s hand. Wrapping her long slender fingers around his paw, they held on tightly to each other as their world turned dark, the colored lights spinning around them like a giant kaleidoscope. The warm air turned crisp, and a chilly breeze stirred his fur. A hard shiver jerked her body, and he pulled her to his side, tucking her against him for warmth.
The feel of her in his embrace brought back an avalanche of memories from so long ago. How he wished he had never left Helheimr. No matter how much he’d hated her cold, misty realm, he would give anything to be able to go back in time and change what had happened to them—and to him. If he hadn’t left, the Dark Fae would never have enslaved him and turned him into the monster he was today.
The air turned frigid and beat at the fur covering his face. He knew Hel shouldn’t be affected by the cold, living almost her entire life in the primordial land of ice, but her body shivered harder against him. A white light floated in front of them as they seemed to speed toward it. The expanse grew, and a burst of heat seared through him. He swallowed his growing alarm.
“We’re heading toward Muspelheimr, Émilien. We can’t enter the realm, it’s super-heated and will melt us before we get close.” Hel’s voice raised above the roaring winds.
Suddenly, the cold disappeared along with the heat, and the wind stopped. Hel’s black hair fell, draping over his arm, the black hues blending in with his own fur. Silence filled his senses. “Where are we?”
“We’re passing through Ginnungagap. You would know it as the void where my realm and the realm of fire sprang from.” She raised her face to his, worry swirling in her black eyes. “Émilien, we must stop now. Wecan’tbe near Muspelheimr.”
“Then why would Freyja send us there? She would never put us in harm’s way. You know this.” He replayed Freyja’s words just before she sent them away. “She mentioned something about the magic.”
“Who?”
“Freyja. Right before she gave us the cryptic message about the Nine Worlds being connected. She said we are stronger together than apart and that we have yet to discover the magic deep within. What do you think she was talking about?”
“Freyja’s always talked in circles. I never know if I’m understanding her meaning or not. It’s frustrating. A simple, straightforward answer is beyond her abilities, but we can’t enter Muspelheimr—not even gods can survive the eternal fire there…well, other than Surtr, but he’s supposed to be there. He controls the fire.”
He chuckled. “I agree.” A burst of warmth spread through him. “Do you feel that?”
She shook her head. “No, all I feel is a bone-chilling cold. I hate Ginnungagap—always have.”
Orange light shot across the horizon and surrounded them as they flew toward the brilliant source. He didn’t feel the searing heat Hel mentioned. “Hel, what do you feel right now? I have a warmth flowing through me, like my blood is heated but not boiling. It’s warming my entire body.”
The closer they drew to the fire realm, the warmth inside him increased. It wasn’t unbearable, though, which surprised him. He noticed Hel’s body wasn’t shivering any longer. “Well?”
“I’m relishing the warmth. You described it perfectly. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t encased in coldness.” Her eyes widened, followed by the hint of a smile. “Is this what sunshine feels like?”
“You know what it feels like. You’ve been to my chateau in France twice now.”
She shook her head. “Both times, the sky was thick with clouds and overcast. The first time it was sprinkling. The second, the day was ending, so the sun had already set. I have never seen sunlight or felt the heat from its rays on my cold skin.” A wistful expression appeared on her face as she stared at the rapidly growing fire-covered land. “I used to be so jealous of you and Shalendra, living in Midgard and enjoying such a beautiful world, while mine was shades of gray—misty and cold.”
“I’m sorry, Hel. I never thought... I guess I always believed you loved Helheimr.”
“I love the people there, but the land? No. It’s depressing, and the more centuries that pass by, my aversion and resentment grow. It’s terrible of me, I know.”
“No, Hel, it’s not. Are you like the Wicked Witch when Dorothy throws water on her?”
She threw him a perplexed glance before returning her gaze to the fast-approaching border of fire, the spires of flame spitting and shooting into the air above them with faint popping sounds. “You’d better not be calling me a witch. Who is Dorothy?”
He chuckled. “It’s one of Shalendra’s favorite movies. Dorothy is a young girl who longs for greener pastures. A western cyclone hits her family’s farm and transports her to a beautiful, magical land where she realizes the grass isn’t greener and that she had everything she needed back home.”
“And the witch?”
“The witch wanted the magical red slippers Dorothy wore, so she kidnapped her. As the young girl escaped with the help of her friends, the witch’s broomstick caught fire and Dorothy threw water on it to put it out, dousing the witch as well. She melted into a puddle of green goo.”
“That’s a children’s movie? How horrible! Shalendra’s little brain must have been horrified.”
“Quite the opposite. In fact, she understood the movie’s meaning and proceeded to lecture me on being nicer to the people and spirits in the Shadow Lands. Our daughter is the best of us both.”
“Well, to answer your question, I have no idea if I would melt in sunshine, but to feel the sun’s warmth on my chilled skin just once would be worth it.”
“I’m sorry. Never feeling the sun shining on my face is unimaginable.” He made a mental note to make sure Hel experienced the sensation of sunlight warming her skin and the beauty of Midgard once they had solved this mystery. Now, though, he needed to figure out who was stealing souls.
He couldn’t help but wonder how Shalendra was faring, and who would be guarding her back during her search for Olivier and Jessica. All he could do, though, was pray Freyja would continue to watch over her for him.
Hel’s arm shot out, her finger pointing at something in the distance. “Look! There’s Surtr!”
