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My brows pulled together. “Blood oath?”
“Blood is a powerful thing,” Aya explained. “It has an unusual property to bind with magic and enhance it. That’s why there are so many stories about blood sacrifices. Those were real, and powerful. We gods used to gain much of our power from them.”
Interesting…There was so much about this world I didn’t know, and I would have gone through my entire life blissfully unaware of what was right under my nose, had things not changed for Astrid.Or that she hadn’t died in the first place.
My gut clenched. I didn’t want to think about what my life would have been like not knowing her.
Astrid scratched Angel behind the ears, who excitedly snatched a squeak toy off the floor and squeaked it against Astrid’s leg.
Astrid razzed the dog before shifting her focus to Fen with a mischievous grin. “What’s wrong, Fen? Feeling left out? There are plenty of squeak toys you can play with. Or we could play a round of fetch with all the tennis balls we’ve got.”
Fen rolled his eyes while the others laughed. I didn’t join in, too preoccupied with taking in Astrid’s behavior. They said she’d only started remembering two days ago, but she was already so comfortable with these people from a distant past.
Astrid released Angel, who wandered over to Fen and ate up the attention the wolf-god eagerly gave her, and turned her focus to me. “What’s wrong, Diego?”
I shook my head. “I’m just trying to process all this. I don’t know how you’re doing so well.”
She gave a weak smile. “Honestly, I can’t say that I am. It’s pretty overwhelming for me. There’s a lot of chaos in my head right now. Some of these conversations and memories are coming to me naturally, but at the same time, my mind is at war trying to understand why.”
I frowned. That made me feel worse about all this. I didn’t want her struggling. I’d rather hear her finding this far easier to accept than I was.
“So, what now?” As the words came from my mouth, tension hummed through the air.
Tyr scowled. “We find and kill the bastard that killed Astrid and framed Fen.”
Kill?These may be gods and immortals who had different codes they lived by, but the idea of someone speaking so openly about killing someone didn’t sit well with me.
“And train Astrid in her magic,” Aya added. “She actively used it earlier today instead of the subconscious level she has been her whole life. It’d be dangerous for her not to train now.”
“And once she has control over magic, then what? She just has it and can use it?” I wasn’t even quite sure what magic was. Would it be like in D&D, or more like myth, with rituals, reagents, and chants?
“I use it for whatever I want.” Astrid’s expression grew serious—no, dangerous. “And to kill a shifter.”
My blood ran cold. I’d never seen this expression from her, even when she wanted to hurt Ben for what he said to me. This was the expression from a woman who’d seen battle and death—the past her.
“You can’t… really mean that…”
Astrid set her jaw. “I do.”
“That isn’t you talking.” I couldn’t believe I was hearing this from her mouth. “Astrid, you aren’t a killer.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Her voice rose. “Sit back and let this shifter kill me again?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just… something other than this madness you’re talking.”
Call me a pacifist, I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand violence. I could accept people had aggressive tendencies, even Astrid, but to embrace violence and death…
“Do you really think she can sit by and do nothing?” Aya asked. “She’s on her ninth incarnation since her first life because of this bastard.”
Nine? This shifter they keep talking about killed her nine times?
“You don’t get it, Diego…” Astrid didn’t look at me. She stared at her hands in her lap. “My memories coming back to me aren’t just of that first life I had. It’s also of all the others… where I was just a little girl. That’s all I ever was. So few memories, but all ending with a frightening, painful death.”
I gazed at her like I’d never done before. I saw the weariness and age that didn’t match her physical body. I could see the weight of several lifetimes in a way others only alluded to.
An old soul, they called her. A homebody who enjoyed a quiet life.
An old soul… who was tired of the world.An old… tired soul who wants more to life than mere moments…
