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“Reach deep inside yourself and look for the fire that burns within your soul,” he said softly. “There is much you have to learn but I think… no, I know in my heart that you are far more than even the gods can see.”
“I’m glad at least one of us believes in me,” I said, a tiny sardonic smile twisting my lips. “I just don’t see how this is going to work. Dying and coming back is just… impossible.”
Skarde shook his head. “Not true. The All-Father hung himself on a branch of the World Tree to gain knowledge and rose from it stronger than before. Freya’s body has been killed several times before, and she lives to tell of it. It’s just the body that dies, Jovi. Whatever makes you uniquely you will endure. Only the death of the spirit can end a witch for good.”
“And how do I avoid that again?”
Skarde shook his head in amusement. “By learning, which will take longer than we have. You’ve barely managed to sit still long enough to sense your magic, but yet you are willing to try traveling by flame to a realm full of giants who want to eat you. You’re insane.”
“Just shut up and say the chant.”
His sarcasm needled its way into me. He was probably right. This was advanced work. But I had to try, right? I refused to give up on Torsten so I supposed I had my answer. I closed my eyes once more and blocked out everything but the sound of Skarde’s deep voice and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Jovi. Feel the magic. Don’t regret skipping all those meditation and yoga classes…
Around breath ten, a warm flush spread across my face and chest. An unnatural vibration crawled along my bones and the darkness behind my eyelids gave way to a stunning forest. Its trees glowed with a blue light that resonated from runes that had been carved into the bark. Though I couldn’t identify the symbols themselves, I somehow knew they told a story of creation… the creation of the universe and everything in it.
My feet crunched on dried leaves that were black as the wings of a raven, shining blue in the eerie light, and sometimes swirling with colors I had no name for. I walked slowly through the forest, following the enormous roots of the trees that poked out of the ground. Every so often the ground would undulate, the earth cracking as something moved beneath it. I thought I spied an acid-green scale at one point, but decided I must have imagined it. There was no snake in existence that huge… right?
A soft hum floated on the wind, filling my head with a song I didn’t recognize. At the heart of the forest was a tree that towered over all the rest. Yggdrasil. The humming grew louder as I drew nearer.
One of the roots appeared cracked and worn, glowing a deep crimson, contrasted against the light of the runes. I pressed my hand to the root and threw my head back with a scream that shook the forest. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire. It was pain on a magnitude I could have never imagined, a pain that made Fyrcat’s burning grip feel like a bout of arm-twisting on the playground. It scorched a trail along my spine and sank into the very fabric of my being until I fell into merciful oblivion.
Chapter Two
Skarde
“What in the All-Father’s name are you doing?” I demanded.
The witch had dropped to her knees shortly after Eir had disappeared, slinking into the room like the cat she so resembled, long nails testing the floor of her domicile like she was trying to find the most comfortable place to settle. Her eyes were faraway and sleepy, and a stream of nonsensical sound burbled from her lips.
I caught myself with a soft snarl. No, Jovi wasn’t Eir. At least, I couldn’t be sure of it, though I had my suspicions. Beneath the fruity scent of Jovi’s hair and body wash was something familiar. The charged smell of lightning just before it strikes the earth. It was a smell humans had no name for—danger, magic and raw force. I’d known what it was to ride the lightning once. When she’d been living. My fierce Valkyrie. My Eir.
And yet, she’d recognized me, on some level. That meant Jovi had to be her, right?
But I couldn’t take the chance. Not until I knew without a doubt. I wouldn’t steal my brother’s mate if she was truly his. I could only hope he’d extend me the same courtesy if our roles were reversed. But given Torsten’s nature, I doubted it.
“Do you feel it?” Fyrcat muttered, patting the ground as she went.
“I feel irked,” I muttered. “Speak plainly, witch.”
“The tree,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “This branch. It’s caught in a gale.”
It took me a moment to comprehend her meaning. Witches had a nasty habit of speaking in riddles and rhymes, and I so seldom had the patience for it. But when I finally understood, that understanding made my skin run cold.
“Something is coming to Midgard,” I said slowly, praying I was wrong. “Something from another realm.”
“From Asgard,” she said, eyes finally leaving the floor. They were solemn as they landed on me. “You know why. You’re probably feeling the pull, even now.”
I shivered. So, the unfurling feeling of dread in my gut hadn’t been the fear of letting Eir… no, Jovi burn herself to death in the vain hope she could rescue my idiot brother from Muspelheim. It was something far worse.
“The Hunt,” I said quietly. “He’s summoned the Einherjar.”
And I was one of their number. All who died well, often in battle, were called to the halls of the gods. Once upon a time, they’d been split, half to Odin, half to Freya, but that time was long past. I answered to the gods of Asgard. Odin was my general. I was called to fight for him. Had I been in Valhalla at this very moment, I wouldn’t have had a choice. But I was here, feet firmly planted in Midgard, in the flesh for the first time in millennia. I could resist the call. I would resist it, until my brother and our shared woman returned.
“How close are they?” I asked.
“Feel for yourself.”
