Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
A lesser woman would break down in tears.
Though Sylvara wanted to, that rage that always burned inside her refused to give under the pain. “Then unmake me!”
“No. You are the one good thing in this life I deserve.” Hafandi glanced at Herulf. “Well, make that two good things.”
“This makes no sense. How can the Balance let you do this?”
“It can’t.”
“I’m so confused.” And heartsick, and just plain tired. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to fit in. Odin has been a royal prick forever.”
“He’s like that.”
“And then Aunt Skuld hooked me up with the valkyries, and Hlokk trained me, gave me purpose.”
“Ah, Hlokk. I’ve always liked her. True to the last.”
“Yet you would sacrifice her for your own happiness.” For all that Sylvara could understand Hafandi’s pain, she couldn’t get on board with screwing over the world to have a happily ever after.
“What you fail to realize, Sylvara, is that I couldn’t have done any of what I did were it not for the greater good and Balance of the world.”
“How is that possible?”
“When you realize Erland is alone, a being of ultimate chaos wandering worlds and destroying them, you understand that he will never stop unless he’s forced to.”
After a moment, Sylvara asked, “You’re saying this was all part of some greater plan?”
“I hadn’t realized it at the time, buried in pain and sadness, in regret.
So much regret for what could be and never was.
” Hafandi tucked her hands in her lap. “I spent so much time in my alternate pockets of reality, watching other worlds go by. There, I saw a world in which Valentine Darkmore’s parents didn’t die. ”
“Val?” Sylvara blinked. “What does she have to do with this?”
“You’ve seen that power that’s inside her.”
“That weird Ilu, yeah. It’s a part of her.”
“Yes. It’s pure chaos, Sylvara. And it has no place in the world in which you live.”
“Why not just drag it out?”
“What? And kill the mate of the black dragon? Wings of Eternal Night and Protector of the Blessed Host, defender of Shai—my Egyptian counterpart?”
“Oh, right. Khent turns into a dragon and protects Val, who hosted Ilu. But if Ilu’s not supposed to be here…”
“She isn’t, or I wouldn’t have been able to bring Erland here. I started this downward spiral into total annihilation out of spite, I admit.”
“That doesn’t make it better!” Was Sylvara dreaming this insane conversation?
“But when I understood what was really at stake, I did my part to bring the pieces of fate together. I made sure Urth gave Hecate the right warnings throughout the centuries. That Verthandi arranged the many tribes of vampires in just the perfect way, so that the only ones who could prevent a great ending came together. Skuld knew. She foresaw what would come, Sylvara. Yet not what could come.”
“Did they ever have a chance?”
“No. But you do.”
“Me? Not you?”
Hafandi shook her head. “I belong here, in this world.” She smiled at her love. “Your father and I are meant to be together. But I cannot say where that might be. There is a way for you to make things better, but at a cost.”
“Anything. And the others will survive?”
“The price will be dear.” Hafandi’s eyes welled. “I would never ask you to go through what I have. It’s terrible to lose your heart. But if you want to save your world, the one that could be, then you must return what to what should be.”
“What do you mean?”
Hafandi studied her. “You care that much for your world? For your vampire?”
Sylvara wished she could be blasé about it, to ignore the deep emotions gutting her, especially about Rolf, but she couldn’t.
“I never thought about it until I had to. When losing it all, I know what I don’t want.
The world can’t crumble like it has. Even fights with Hagatha are worth having. ” She wiped away angry tears.
“And your vampire?”
“He’s annoying and weird and tricky. I’m not sure how he did it, but he made me fall in love with him.”
“A true love.” Hafandi seemed saddened by her answer.
“I think so, yes. He says we mated. That I bonded with him.” She held up her marked hand.
Hafandi held it, studied it, then let her go. “Perhaps all is not lost.”
“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I swear.” Sylvara’s life needed meaning. Sadly, without Rolf—and, you know, the rest of the world—she had nothing.
“You know what to do. You just don’t know what you’ll lose in the doing.”
“I don’t care.”
“You say that now. But I know what it can cost to do the right thing.” Hafandi shook her head. “I lost my daughter. Never got to know her, to talk to her, to share laughter and tears. And just as I find her, I must let her go once more.”
Sylvara swallowed, understanding what her price to make the world right again might be.
Hafandi nodded.
“I, ah…” Sylvara’s voice cracked. “I’ll still do it. Even if everyone I ever loved forgets me. It’s worth it in the end.”
“Worth an eternal pain that will never fade.” Hafandi sighed. “Then take the power from me, Daughter of What Might Be.” She held out her hand.
Sylvara took it. Agony festered then blistered and cascaded over her, obliterating her entire world. A newness, a knowing.
A new reason.
When she came back to herself, she stood under the World Tree.
Asgard was bright, the air clean and fresh with flowers. The sun shone overhead, so brightly even Rolf might be bothered by it.
The thought of him gave her pause. She shook off her melancholy and walked past the Well of Urd. Her reflection made her stop. Sylvara now possessed a line of blue across her face, with four bolts under each eye. She looked sad, and she hated to see her weakness so plainly displayed.
Despite not wanting to cry, tears fell. She knew she’d probably lose Rolf and everyone she ever cared about if she did what needed doing.
To her surprise, a thread of gold appeared at the bottom of the braid by her left temple. She peeled it off, feeling the thread of possibilities vibrate through it.
On her short walk to the Great Weave, she encountered no one. Indeed, it felt as if all of Asgard had been emptied.
Sylvara stared at the ruin of the Wyrd and shook her head. Such damage to the Destiny of all. Time to put it to rights.
She stroked her fingers along the threads of fate, smoothing out the kinks and letting life continue, as it should have before.
Once the Weave settled, she stared at the golden thread of chance in her hand.
And she knew just where to put it.