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“Uh, yeah…” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Long drive.”
It was clear she had no idea who I was. I needed to get myself together and play things cool.
“You the guy Officer Rory sent up?”
I had to push through the fog to understand what she meant. She spoke like those I’d come in contact with around these parts, but it was so different from in the past. It meant I’d have to adapt quickly. “The officer I talked to, old enough to be my father?”
She smirked and approached. “Yeah, that’s him. Glad you could make it.”
I shut the truck door and met her halfway. “Astrid, right?”
“That’s right. And you are?”
“Tyr,” I said. I’d ditched my true pronunciation long ago when the world anglicized it. A few countries still pronounced it the traditional way, but I found it easier to blend in if I didn’t use it outside of those instances.
I wasn’t the only god to do this. Freya had done the same. And last I’d heard from her, she’d started going by Aya instead.
As immortal beings, experiencing change was inevitable, and you either figured out how to adapt, or you were left behind.
“Tyr,” she murmured. I saw the internalization of my name through her eyes. My pulse skipped. She may not recognize me or my name right now, but maybe, just maybe, she would the longer I was around.
I held up my left hand to shake hers and glanced at my missing one. “I’d offer a proper handshake if I could.”
Her eyes flicked down to my missing appendage. If she saw a correlation between my injury and name, it didn’t show in her expression as she looked back up at me and smiled. She died around the time I lost the hand and never had the chance to understand what happened. I also couldn’t be sure she knew of the mythos mortals had created around my identity. Many places did, but with my absence in the world, I’d faded from prominence, and my dwindling power was evidence of that.Her mind might try to make sense of this as a coincidence, and tell her I’m just another wounded warrior, like most believe.
Astrid slipped her soft, warm hand in mine and shook. A familiar jolt coursed through me with the contact, one I knew from the first time she and I had ever touched long ago. And like that first time, her motion paused for a moment, as if she felt it, too. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tyr. If you decide to stay, I hope you enjoy it here.”
I worked my jaw and looked around, taking in the house and the surrounding yard and forest. “What is here, exactly? The officer didn’t quite explain that to me.”
Astrid chuckled. “Sounds like him. Valkyrie’s Reach is a therapy retreat. We specialize in helping those who are lost find themselves and soar higher than they ever did before.”
“That’s rather poetic,” I said.
Her eyes squinted in the way I was familiar with as she smiled. “I wish I could take credit, but I have Aya to thank for that line.”
A muscle in my neck twitched.It couldn’t be…“Aya?”
“A friend of mine and one of our employees. She makes sure our technical infrastructure is advanced and up to date, so no one has to go without comforts they’re used to, like cell service and internet.”
That didn’t put my suspicions at ease. No, it made them worse. Like me, Freya held dominion over war. However, unlike me, where I still focused on the physical aspect of war, Freya had adapted to the change in technology, turning her attention to cyberwarfare, or whatever it was called. While I’d adapted okay to the technological advancements of this century, I had my struggles.
“So, this is a therapy retreat. That makes you a shrink?”
Astrid laughed. The songbird-like sound made my heart skip. It was achingly similar. “I prefer therapist. I would rather foster a more positive relationship with mental health and healing than perpetuate the outdated stigma of shame.”
My lips pressed into a thin line. The job fit Astrid, no doubt. It wasn’t directly a physical healing job like she’d done in the past, but I’d seen the effects of poor mental health, particularly on warriors. The evolution of mental health healing, and as a result, physical healing, was an important change I agreed with. But for someone to get into my head… I wasn’t thrilled by the idea, even if that person was Astrid.
She gazed at me sympathetically. “I can understand your hesitation. Taking the step to heal mentally isn’t easy. And I want you to understand therapy doesn’t mean you’re broken. We all can benefit from understanding ourselves and growing from that.”
Astrid clasped her hands together. “Therapy sessions also aren’t mandatory here. People come to heal here in many ways. And while Diego and I specialize in mental healing, we have resources for those who need to physically heal, or even just need a safe place to get away from the difficulties of their lives and reevaluate what they want.”
That sounded like a better deal. I didn’t need to heal. I wasn’t lost. I was fine. Now that I’d found her, I was fine. A quieter place away from the noise of urban life to get to know her again sounded perfect.
“How much does this all cost?” Living as long as I had, money wasn’t an issue. But it seemed like something mortals would be concerned about, so I had to ask.
“Valkyrie’s Reach is a non-profit, and exists and runs solely funded by donations. We don’t ask for up-front payments from our residents, as we understand many who come to us aren’t in the position to shell out any monetary expenses. Of course, if you’re in a financial position to donate during your stay, and you wish to, we won’t discourage you, but overall, all we ask is that you consider donating once you’ve gotten back on your feet and are ready to go back out in the world.”
A noble cause—something I’d expect from her. And that detail was good to know so I could plan how to support her here. “I’d like to give this place a try, then.”
