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Prologue
VIKING
987 AD…
“Welcome to Valhalla.”
The bright white light shrouding me slowly disappears, revealing surroundings that are lush, beautiful, and… foreign. I turn in circles, desperately searching for anything familiar, for Mea.
“She’s not here.”
I freeze, my muscles tensing. The voice is distinctly female, but I don’t recognize it. Nor do I see anyone it could possibly belong to. I’m alone.
Did the Vikings strike me in the head?
A shimmer dances before me, and a woman materializes out of thin air. I jump back, startled and not at all sure I’m not going insane.
“Who are you?” I demand. “Where am I? Where’s Mea?”
“So many questions,” the woman says with a smile before tilting her head. “Although, that’s to be expected.” She takes a step toward me, but I back away from her. “Come now, Leif. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How do you know my name?”
Exasperated, she sighs. “My name is Kára. I’m the Valkyrie Odin tasked with escorting you to Valhalla.”
What?!
“But that would mean—”
“You’re dead.”
Her matter-of-fact tone sends my mind spiraling, and bile rises up the back of my throat as a memory slams into me.
“I’m not ready, Leif.”
I stare at my wife, doing my best to tune out the chaos surrounding us. The Vikings have been raiding villages for what feels like forever, and we’re running out of time.
“Mea,” I scold with a finger to my lips. “Quiet.”
She purses her lips, and a tear slips down her freckled cheek. Mea is the kindest human I know, the violence coming our way so beyond her comprehension. We’ve only been married for a few months, but it’s looking more and more like the family we both want isn’t going to happen.
“Maybe they’ll tire before they reach us,” Mea whispers.
Screams from our fellow villagers penetrate the walls of our home, and my wife shifts closer to me.
As I wrap an arm around her shoulders, I tighten my grip on the ax I’m holding and force a smile. “Maybe.”
Time passes in a blur. Mea prays, murmuring pleas and offering bargains. I listen to her words, but they’re of little comfort.
My ax offers comfort. It always offers comfort. But it’s also a stark reminder that we’re grossly outnumbered and likely to die by daybreak.
I’m not ready to die. I’m not afraid of death, but I don’t know too many people who embrace the idea of ceasing to exist.
But I’ll embrace it wholeheartedly if it means Mea gets to live.
An orange glow from a torch passes by the window, and I know we have only minutes left. I turn to face Mea and cup her chin.
“I love you,” I tell her. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, and I will love you for eternity.”
