50. Kain
Chapter 50
Kain
T he last room in the vault is empty.
The shimmering ceiling reflects the firelight in the sconces, and three pedestals stand bare, but that is all I can see.
I take a shuddering breath.
Think . I have to stay in control, and I have to think.
Sigrun said that Featherblade can vouch for me. I stare around the room, then move back into the previous tunnel.
There has to be something in here that can help me.
Methodically, I scan every item to find anything that might break my curse or help me reach her.
I see nothing I can use. I don't even know if I would recognize anything that could.
Skoll flares to life beside me as I stomp back into the final chamber, glaring up at the ceiling, barely keeping a grip on my frustration.
So close, yet so fucking far.
"Help me," I growl at the empty air. Skoll paces like a caged beast, his presence burning hotter every moment we waste. Every second could be the one where she?—
No. I can't think about what they might be doing to her.
Think .
I move to the empty pedestals. The helm piece was likely on one. I run my bare hands over the carved stone absently as I try to make my mind work, and it flickers with heat. I frown.
I only burn living things.
Looking closer, I notice a rune etched into the wood.
Sacrifice.
I move to the other two, and they say the same thing.
"What do you want me to give up?" I say aloud, looking up at the ceiling.
With a flare of light, a massive tapestry appears on the wall in front of me.
Odin hangs from Yggdrasil's branches, his face a mask of suffering. Ravens circle his head, the wind whips his cloak, and his nine days of torture are carved into his flesh. It's Odin's sacrifice, the All-Father hanging himself to gain knowledge.
But something's different from the usual depiction. Instead of Gungnir , his mighty spear, he clutches a ceremonial cup in his remaining hand.
With a jolt, I realize I've seen its twin.
I turn and sprint along the tunnel, Skoll racing beside me, until I reach the cup. It's made of silver, and when I lift it, it pulses with magic, then abruptly, it's full.
The liquid is thick and black and smells like rot.
What would you sacrifice for revenge?
The question sounds in my head, put there by someone else.
I almost drop the cup in shock, and Skoll howls.
"My life," I whisper.
The Helm of Embers contains the power of Stutr. The long-banished lava god.
None who don it can survive, save a god. But any who do will destroy everything around them, the power of the liquid inferno unstoppable.
For decades, I was ready to sacrifice my life to destroy my prison, and the Valkyrie who loved it. The Valkyrie who betrayed me.
And then I met Madivia.
Her face fills my mind, and another question booms through my thoughts.
What would you sacrifice for love?
I know the answer immediately.
"My revenge."
That is your choice? Love over revenge?
"Yes." The word comes out rough, but certain. "I choose her."
Prove it, fire-fae.
"How?"
The liquid in the cup flickers, and then flames dance across the oily surface.
Drink. Show me the truth.
"Who… who are you?" I ask, but I know the answer. I've roamed these halls for two centuries.
My prison replies, My soul is split, the feather here, the blade gone.
I try to understand what I'm being told. "Madivia has it?"
The Blade of Fjederham. I feel it now, realms away.
"Bring her back!"
I cannot. But if you prove your truth, I can send you to the blade.
Skoll howls as I lift the cup to my lips without hesitation.
The liquid is like acid, blistering my lips as they touch it.
An explosion of pain and light makes my eyes stream, but I force the liquid down my throat.
I drain every drop.
"Send me to her!" My voice is raw and rough. Desperate.
There's a painful silence, then Featherblade speaks.
A portal awaits, fire-fae.