Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Niflheimr
One month later
Shalendra’s steps slowed as she stared at the one place she never thought she would be able to visit again. So many good and bad memories returned to her in a flash, as if they had happened yesterday.
Closing her eyes, she listened to the distant clanging from the ongoing battles in Vígv?llr and, if she took the path to their right, she would find herself in ?vibj?e, the Forever Lands where those at rest began their eternal lives.
“Shalendra? What is it?” Cyran laid his hand in the middle of her back. She loved the heat from his palm seeping through her sweater, giving her an even more profound sense of peace.
She smiled up at her handsome elf. “Everything is so very right. Here, now, I have never known such happiness.”
Turning her head, she glanced at the gate a distance behind. The wolf, Garmr, lay beside his dark and mysterious cave, guarding the path leading up to her mother’s great hall, which had always reminded her of a black castle. “Are you sure Castien is now healthy and will meet us?”
“Loki promised he would bring him. Believe it or not, they have been enjoying themselves in Alfheimr with the co-regents. Ailuin was insistent about hearing what happened to him and seeking his counsel on the best way to combine our people. The task will be daunting, but Castien looks forward to feeling needed. This job will be good for him.”
“I agree.” She fidgeted, clasping and unclasping her hands as her fingers straightened, then folded over the backs as her nerves grew.
She met his understanding gaze. “I’m so nervous about seeing my parents. Before my quest, they were a bit protective, and I’m terrified they won’t see me as an adult, able to make my own decisions—and you. What if they don’t accept you?”
Cyran smiled and tucked a strand of her black hair behind one ear. “I can hold my own, nín gilgalad. Let’s go and greet Hel and émilien. Even out here, I feel their apprehension beating at me.”
Slipping her hand in his, she led him up the broken pathway, through the massive metal door, and into the Great Hall. Glancing around the dark room, the emptiness washed over her. “It’s as if nothing has changed. When I was a child, I hated this spot. To a five-year-old, it was very spooky.”
His chuckle skittered over her chilled skin. “Well, this is the World of the Dead. Very fitting, if you ask me.”
“I was only five! I had no understanding of living or dead. I loved playing with the wolf guardians, watching the never-ending battles, and walking through the villages in the Forever Lands. They were magical. I even had several ghostly friends I played with every day. Yet, these dark rooms in this part of the Hall terrified me, especially at night or during storms.”
“There are storms here? Who knew.”
“I did. Because of the difference in the atmosphere here, they are fiercer than in other worlds. Mother explained that they were more severe here because we were close to Ginnungagap and Muspelheimr.”
She thought back to those long-ago lessons, hearing her mother’s voice in her mind. “The void of Ginnungagap is unstable—a northern land of ice and rime with constant rain and gusts. The void is in constant flux because it is the magical creation realm of all Nine Worlds. The southern end is Muspelheimr, which is fire and lava.”
“So, the friction between the two regions causes destructive weather events here in Helheimr,” Cyran said.
“Yes.” She turned her head to look up at him. “Is there anything you don’t know or understand?”
He tweaked the tip of her nose, then kissed away the light sting. “Yes, my heart. There are many, many things in this vast multiverse I don’t comprehend. I believe that’s why I’m always trying to learn everything I can.”
She smiled. “I like that about you.”
His smile widened. “You’re still stalling.”
She exhaled. “I know.” She straightened her shoulders. “Fine. Let’s face the wrath of my parents. I’m sure they are furious with me for not returning home sooner.”
The farther into the castle they traveled, the darkness lightened. When she turned down the hallway to her mother’s throne room, she was surprised to find it bathed in golden light and decorated.
A beautiful rug in shades of silver and pale green lay over the cold stone floor, and the fresh paint scent still lingering suggested that the walls had recently been painted in a soft green—so unlike her mother. To her knowledge, Hel only liked being surrounded by shades of black and white.
Glancing up, exquisite chandeliers were spaced along the ceiling as if directing them to the throne room. “This is…breathtaking,” she whispered. “Considering how it looked when I was a child. Then, the entire castle was decorated like the front rooms we just walked through.”
“This is nice,” Cyran agreed as they reached the golden door of the throne room. “I think émilien has had some influence on the décor.”
With one finger under her chin, he tilted her face to his. Holding her breath as he leaned closer, he pressed his lips to hers for one beautiful but brief moment before pulling back a few inches. “Are you ready?”
“With you by my side, yes.”
Cyran opened the door and pushed her inside in time for her to see her mother whirl around, her ice-blue eyes glowing. Her wide smile lit up her beautiful face. With her blue-black hair in a thick braid and twisted into a figure eight on top of her head, she made the perfect queen.
Hurrying across the room, Shalendra threw her arms around her mother’s neck and just held her, breathing in her soft floral scent. Thick arms surrounded them as her father’s woodsy scent blended with Hel’s. Shalendra was home.
“I missed you both so much.” She relished her parents' squeezing embrace as they held her between them. “As much as I love this group hug, I can’t breathe.”
émilien chuckled and stepped away, giving her long black braid a gentle tug. “We missed you too, daughter.”
She would never get used to seeing her father as an elf. His long, wavy blond hair was pulled back and tied in a long ponytail, but, like her mother, his sparkling green eyes were the most striking difference. As a werewolf, his eyes had been black. He was breathtakingly handsome.
“Why didn’t you, at least, send word that you were all right? We were worried sick about you.” Her mother’s chin shook, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry, mother, but so many things happened on my quest?—”
“Yes, your quest ,” Hel muttered. “I think I need to have a long and not very nice discussion with Freyja about her decision to send you on that quest. She should have discussed it with me first.”
“Us,” her father added.
Hel waved one hand in front of him. “Yes, yes…us.”
“And what would you have told me?” Freyja’s familiar voice said behind them.
Turning, émilien let out a low roar. In two leaps, he crossed the room and embraced his brother while Jessica stood beside them with a sweet smile.
Shalendra immediately noticed the ravages on her aunt's face from being Haman’s prisoner, but she was healing with Freyja and Idunn’s help.
Sadly, though, she would never be able to return to Midgard as a human. Idunn could only save her by feeding her the same ambrosia and blood-laced drink she had given Freyja’s Night Witches when they chose immortality and a second chance at life and love.
Jessica had not hesitated and had accepted the honor, but from what Cyran told her later, Olivier had not taken it well and was furious with Idunn. It had taken all of them, including Loki and Zel, to get him to understand it had either been immortality or she would pass on to her next life.
“He needs another healing session,” Cyran whispered to her. “But he didn’t want to miss seeing his brother. They have much to catch up on. The last time he saw your father, émilien was still cursed as a werewolf.”
A movement behind the newcomers caught Shalendra’s attention. She bent sideways and let out a delighted squeal. Racing across the room, she flew into Castien’s open arms. “I was so afraid for you.”
She leaned back, holding him at arm’s length, and gave him a good once-over, ensuring he had healed. “You seem fine.” She met his happy gaze. “You are fine, right?”
Castien nodded. “I am more than fine. Cyran’s draugar friends cared for me until Freyja found us and took us all to her home in Asgard.”
He patted his flat stomach, and for the first time, she noticed he had gained some weight and seemed more filled out than when they were in the Dwarven prison. “I have never eaten so well. Idunn is an amazing cook.”
“Where are Banayl and Daqar? Shouldn’t they be here too?”
Castien shook his head. “They stayed on Midgard to help with the war effort. There was a problem with someone named Fer-Diorich, and a lot of werewolves were searching for him. There’s more to the story, but I didn’t understand most of it, so I stopped listening.”
Cyran laid his hand on Castien’s shoulder and smiled at the dwarf. “I hear you have been talking with Ailuin and Lamruil about uniting Svartálfheimr and Alfheimr. Do you think the dwarves will ever forgive us for what happened?”
Castien shrugged. “I can only try to get them to see reason. We’re a stubborn lot, and I know a few elders who will refuse to let go of the past, but who can blame them? They lost their homes and families because of one man’s misguided idea that he was the perfect elf. There is no such thing in any race or culture. We all have different beliefs and lifestyles, which is how it should be. The world would be boring otherwise, don’t you think?”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Hel moved to stand behind her daughter and rested her hands on Shalendra’s shoulders. “I was ostracized because of my father and how I looked, so I hid away in this castle and lost myself and the ones I love the most.”
She smiled at Castien, whose face darkened in a rosy blush. “You are a very wise dwarf, Castien. My husband and I owe you so much for caring for our daughter.”
Castien’s gaze met Shalendra’s, one side of his mouth rising in his sweet, crooked smile, his handsome face more relaxed than she had ever seen. “We took care of each other. I had never had a friend and had no idea what friendship was until she came into my life.”
“So, everyone owes everyone else.” Loki strode into the room. “What a horrid way to live.”
Shalendra met Cyran’s gaze. “Some things, I’m afraid, will never change.” He only shook his head.
She turned back to her friend. “So, Castien, if you manage to convince the dwarves that we elves aren’t horrible, do you think they will continue calling themselves dwarves and living in Svartálfheimr?”
She laid her hand over her friend’s arm. “Also, I must ask, but did you ever hear anything more about Soliana? Where she may have been taken?”
“I’m sorry, Shalendra. The last time I heard anything about her was what you told me after you were summoned to see the dwarf king, who wasn’t the true king. As to your other question, probably? We, dwarves, have found that we welcome the Earth, a connection, if you will,” Castien explained.
“I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m a bloodminer or if it’s the centuries we have lived underground, but a kinship exists. She takes care of us, and we take care of her. Some of the younger dwarves were beginning to question things and had even started calling themselves elves again, so who knows? Maybe in time things will return to what once was.”
“Enough of the chit-chat.” Loki glanced at Hel. “Is he secured?”
She nodded and moved to the enormous window, staring out over her kingdom. She waited until everyone had moved around her, then pointed to a glowing red dot in the distance.
She touched the tip of her finger to the glass, and the spot grew until the entire horizon was filled with a volcanic range, lava, and fire, spewing and spitting high into the hazy red sky. In the center stood a tall man towering over the mountain range, balls of fire hovering just above his outstretched palms.
When his gaze met Hel’s, he nodded. “Good morning, Hel,” his voice boomed. “Are you here to check on the elf?”
“Good morning to you too, Surtr. Yes, everyone here would like to see your prisoner—to make certain he will never hurt anyone again.”
The fireball disappeared, and with a wave of one giant hand, the volcanic skyline flew inward until they looked into the center of a massive mountain filled with heavy smoke. Shalendra could almost smell the sulfur.
With a strong exhale, Sutr cleared the cavern's interior. Hanging in an obsidian cage just above the boiling magma was the statue of Haman, with a familiar chain wrapped around his wrists.
Shalendra’s gaze narrowed, trying to see the golden links better. “Is that Gleipnir? I can’t imagine Fenrir parting from her.”
Hel shook her head. The glistening red light gleamed through the window, accentuating the deep purple stone in her silver filigreed necklace. “Gleipnir would never have left him. Instead, she created a replica of herself so Haman would remain bound for eternity.”
She turned to face the small group. “He will never harm anyone again, but another is determined to do that very thing. If Fer-Diorich manages to escape the Unseelie Court once more…” Her gaze met her husband’s. “It may take all Nine Worlds coming together to defeat him.”
Shalendra turned to Hel. “Mother, how is Helheimr? Freyja told us everyone had disappeared here and in several other death worlds. If so, why did I hear the ongoing battle in Vígv?llr?”
“Newly deceased still arrive, but within a few days, they, too, disappear. The Celtic, Greek, and Egyptian death worlds are the only places affected so far, but it's only a matter of time for the others. We must figure out who is behind the disappearances before something worse happens.”
“What could be worse than your afterlife disappearing?” Castien asked.
Hel turned to him. “There are worse creatures in the depths of the death worlds. Creatures who can end the Nine Worlds and everyone in them for all time.”
“I’m sorry I asked,” Castien mumbled.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but how are Ingrid and Astrid?” Shalendra held her breath, afraid of her mother’s answer.
Hel smiled. “They are adorable and, for now, safe. I gave them rooms in the castle until we figure this out—and find their parents. I’m afraid they may have moved on, but I will keep asking around. So far, if they stay inside, they haven’t disappeared.” Shalendra breathed a sigh of relief, silently vowing to look as well.
Freyja wrapped her arm around Hel’s shoulders and hugged her close. “We will figure this all out in no time. For now, though, Idunn has prepared us a magnificent feast, which she tells me is getting quite cold in the dining room. Let us take this time to relax and make merry and, most importantly, enjoy the company of those we love.”
Everyone followed Freyja as she led them across the throne room to the silver door on the other side. Instead of entering, she stopped, letting the others go in first. She hesitated but turned back with a solemn expression on her beautiful face.
“Cyran, we need to talk.”
His dark blond brows rose. “That’s never good. Did I do something wrong?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, my brave Elf Lord, you have done everything right, even what you did to your stepfather.” She waved her hand as he opened his mouth. “If you had not sent him into stasis, he would have killed many more people, so rid yourself of guilt. What I need to tell you is about your birth father.”
He frowned. “My mother never told me who he was.”
“She did tell one person, and that person confided in me.” With a sweep of her arm, Lamruil and Ailuin appeared in front of her. Glancing around the room, their gazes landed on Cyran and Shalendra.
Ailuin smiled first. “So, you took my advice and never let her out of your sight. You can thank me later. Now,” he turned to Freyja. “What are we doing here?”
Freyja’s gaze moved to Lamruil. “I believe you guessed long ago, but now you all need to hear what I must tell you. “Your father grieved over the death of his wife. One day, he met a beautiful young elf who helped him get over that loss. They fell in love, but because he had you two, twin boys are never an easy job, and a kingdom to rule, which was falling apart around him, taking her as his wife wasn’t an option. He couldn’t replace your mother. Instead, they agreed to separate, even though it broke their hearts.”
Freyja turned her amethyst gaze on Cyran. “That’s when she discovered she was pregnant with you. She married Haman Daralei to protect you, not realizing she was risking your life or hers. King Glanduil did love you like his son, Cyran, because you are his youngest son.”
Ailuin was the first to react and let out a loud whoop as he threw his arms around Cyran. “Now we can be true brothers.” He laughed and pulled away, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes and wiggled his brows. “And you’re my younger brother, which gives me leave to treat you as such.”
Shalendra smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “You will do no such thing. As his older brother, you are tasked to watch out for him.”
Cyran’s gaze met Lamruil’s. “You knew?”
The older twin shrugged. “I guessed but had no evidence, so I never voiced my suspicions to anyone, not even Ailuin. Just before Father died, you came to the castle to report unrest in the northern reaches of Alfheimr. After you left, he took me aside and told me to watch out for you like I would Ailuin—like my brother.”
The handsome elf’s lips rose, almost smiling. “I believe he knew you were his son and loved you as much as he did Ailuin and me.”
Cyran’s chin shook, but his face remained stoic as he held out his hand to Lamruil. The other elf stared at it, then laid his hand in Cyran’s and pulled him into his embrace.
“We may argue,” Lamruil whispered. “But we always look out for one another—as brothers. I could not have wished for a better elf to welcome as family.”
Shalendra covered her mouth, trying to stem the flow of tears as they flowed down her cheeks. So many wishes had just been answered, and she could not have been happier for Cyran. He had found the family he had always longed for.
Indiscreetly, Freyja wiped her tears and cleared her throat. “There is another matter I must discuss with you. As you know, I brought Daqar and Banayl to Asgard, but I returned them to Svartálfheimr to track the group of draugar and werewolves attacking the villages. They have reported no more deaths but did discover the creatures’ last location. Fer-Diorich is somehow controlling them from his prison in the Unseelie Court.”
She scowled, her beauty darkening, and reminded Shalendra of a warrior goddess. “I have submitted a petition to King Oberon but haven't heard back. Of course, the Wild Hunt is going on as we speak, so I won’t get a response until its end. I’ve also left a message with Queen Titiana. Now that Haman is gone and Loki is, I hope, on our side?—”
“No fear about that, Freyja.” Loki walked back into the room. “If my granddaughter is involved, I will be her shadow, although if the draugar are involved, I may have to rescind my promise. They give me the creeps.”
Freyja’s sculpted eyebrows rose, her gaze moving from Loki to Shalendra before turning back to Lamruil. “Daqar also sent word they have discovered where their leader, Himra, and Dannoth are. Fer-Diorich has imprisoned them inside the Unseelie Court. They are asking our help to free them. There is another faction of werewolves on Midgard who have helped us in the past. Their guardian, Torin, will discuss it with those he guards. They will stop at nothing to destroy Fer-Diorich’s control. I will tell you when I hear back from Oberon.”
She smiled and waved the twins and Loki toward the dining room. “Now, Let’s eat. Idunn is unhappy with our tardiness and insists the food will not stay warm if we don’t get in there.”
Shalendra stepped to follow the small group, but Cyran snaked his hand around her wrist, holding her back. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “I find I'm not hungry for food and want to hold the woman I love in my arms.”
“Mmm.” She rested her head on his chest. For the first time in what seemed like forever, her body relaxed, content in his embrace and knowing the people she loved the most were safe in the next room.
“Are you happy, nín gilgalad?” he whispered in her ear.
“I am so very happy, my brave elf lord. I feel your happiness, too. You found your family,” she whispered back.
“Cyran.” émilien's large form filled the doorway, a severe expression on his handsome face. “I forgot to tell you, I expect my future son-in-law to guard my daughter as I would—without your usual lip service. Now, the two of you better get in here before Hel comes after you.” He turned and disappeared into the other room.
Cyran groaned, his forehead dropping to rest on top of her head as Shalendra laughed, the tinkling sound filling the room. “His bark is worse than his bite. Besides, he likes you.”
Cyran scowled. “How do you know that? What I just heard sounded more like a threat, which I don’t think he would do if he liked me.”
“Are your extremities still attached to your body? Silly elf. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have let you continue to hold me in your arms.” She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face, amazed at how full her heart was. She had never dreamed her life could be so perfect.
“I love you with all my heart, my handsome elf lord. Let’s enjoy this short time with our family, and then we can go home.”
He reached up, pulling her hands away from his face, and tucked them against his heart. “Wherever you are, my starlight, is home.”
* * *
I hope you enjoyed Revenge of the Elf Lord .
Although the search for Olivier and Jessica is complete, there is still an evil presence undermining the Nine Worlds, and it is now up to Alfheimr’s co-regent Lamruil Vakas and Soliana Tornorin to solve it…if they can.
But first, the royal elf will have to find her, and once he does, what will he do with her? Is Soliana the answer he seeks for both his kingdom and his heart, or will she thicken the walls he has already built and help the one person they must destroy?
Make sure to stay tuned for Lamruil and Soliana in book 4 of the Kingdom of the Elf Lords!