Chapter 36 I’m Pretty Sure I Died
I’m Pretty Sure I Died
Astrid Mathieson
I'm sinking in darkness. Cold. Heavy. Can't move. Voices filter through, distant and unfamiliar.
"...neutralized the venom..."
"...she’s his mate..."
"...rest now..."
I try to open my eyes, to speak, but my body won't cooperate. The darkness pulls me under again, my thoughts fragmenting into nothing.
Light burns through my eyelids. Pain throbs across my chest with each heartbeat. I manage to part my lips, throat dry as sandpaper.
"Don't... shoot the wolf..." The words come out as barely a whisper.
A cool hand touches my forehead. A woman's voice. "Rest, child. You're safe now."
I force my eyes open just enough to see blurred shapes. A woman with golden hair leans over me. Another stands beside her, something silver glinting in the light.
Their faces swim in my vision. I try to ask where I am, but exhaustion pulls me back under.
"Sleep," the golden-haired woman says. "Your body needs time to heal."
The darkness takes me before I can argue.
My head is clear this time.
I stay still, assessing. My body feels whole but different. Lighter somehow. The chest pain has faded to a dull ache. My mouth is dry, but my mind is sharp.
I remember it all this time. The forest, the chimera, the damn thing spearing me with its tongue. Fen carrying me.
Dying? I'm certain I died.
So where the hell am I now?
I open my eyes. A high ceiling arches above me, inlaid with gold and silver in constellation patterns. Not a hospital. Definitely not GUIDE headquarters.
Sitting up takes effort, but my muscles respond. I'm wearing a thin white linen slip. The bed beneath me is massive, with impossibly soft sheets. Where's Fen? The thought shoots through me with unexpected urgency. The last thing I remember is his face, his eyes wide with panic as he carried me.
The room is spacious. Polished stone walls. Heavy wooden furniture with intricate carvings. No sign of him here. The air smells of herbs and something like honey, but underneath that, I search for his scent—that forest and spice combination. Nothing. A hollow feeling settles in my chest.
I need to find him. The thought feels less like concern for an ally and more like a physical necessity.
Across the room, curtains flutter, letting in fresh air.
Assess, analyze, prepare. Find a weapon, identify exits, determine position. But first, test physical capabilities.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor feels warm underfoot, heated somehow. I stand, testing my balance. Stronger than I should be after what happened.
How long have I been down?
I touch my chest where I know the wound was… it’s gone. Completely healed. Not even a scar. I run my fingers over the spot again, searching for any lingering tenderness. Nothing. How long have I been out?
The breeze draws me to the windows. I cross the room silently, keeping my footfalls light out of habit. Fifteen steps from bed to window. The curtains are thin enough to show light and movement outside. I pull them back.
"Fuck."
The view stops me cold. Below me stretches a city that can't exist. At least not on Earth.
Golden towers rise like knife blades catching the sun.
White buildings with metallic roofs extend to a horizon dominated by mountains that make the Alps look like speed bumps.
The peaks disappear into clouds, massive beyond anything I've ever seen.
Even the sky looks wrong. It’s a deeper blue, with what look like multiple moons visible despite the daylight.
I must be hallucinating. Or dead. Or trapped in some weird coma dream while the venom finishes me off.
But the stone railing under my fingers feels solid. The air in my lungs is crisp and clean. Below, people move through streets that seem paved with cut stones, and their clothes look like something out of a renaissance festival.
I'm not on Earth.
The thought should terrify me, but after hunting monsters for years, I've learned to adapt fast.
A quick check confirms there's no way down from this balcony. I'm several stories up in what appears to be a castle. Only exit is through my room.
I spot a robe hanging near the bed, dark blue with silver stitching. I put it on over the slip, appreciating the extra coverage. No shoes in sight, but the floors are smooth enough. And clean.
Time to do some recon.
I open the door silently. Outside, a corridor stretches in both directions, lined with columns and tapestries showing battles and strange creatures and paintings of people I don’t recognize.
No guards. No obvious cameras or security. Either they don't see me as a threat, or they're very confident.
I pick a direction and move forward, senses on high alert. My mission parameters are simple—find Fen.
The hallway opens into a round chamber with multiple exits. Sunlight streams through stained glass windows, casting colored patterns on the stone floor. A massive tree is carved into the ceiling, branches spreading across the dome.
I pause, evaluating. If this is some kind of palace or stronghold, the central areas should have more foot traffic. More potential for information. I listen carefully for voices, any sign of where people might gather.
If Fen brought me here, someone must know him. Someone must know where he is.
Voices echo from one corridor. I slip behind a column as two women in flowing robes pass.
"—the council is completely fractured," one says.
"Odin never liked it anyway," the other replies.
They pass without noticing me.
Odin. The name hits like one of those eighth grade red dodge balls to the gut.
Odin is the King of the gods in Norse mythology.
Asgard or Valhalla or something like that.
Fen said he was from another planet, which I weirdly assumed meant he was from Mars or something.
I’m not sure why I didn’t think that through a little more.
I continue my sweep, sticking to shadows, avoiding the few people I see. The place is architecturally impressive—high ceilings, intricate stonework, precious metals used as casually as steel would be on Earth.
From a hidden alcove, I watch what looks like a training yard where men and women spar. Their movements are faster than human, metal striking metal with explosive force.
I'm so focused on the fighters that I miss the footsteps behind me.
"It is good to see you finally up and about."
I spin, dropping into a fighting stance despite having no weapon. The woman standing there doesn't seem concerned. Golden hair frames a timeless face with dark blue eyes that make me feel like I'm being x-rayed. She wears a gown of the same blue with silver accents that match my borrowed robe.
"I thought you might be hungry," she says. "Come."
I stay tense, keeping my guard up. "Who are you? Where am I? Where is Fen?"
"I am Frigga," she says simply. "And you are in Asgard. Come, we shall talk of Fen." She walks along the corridor, clearly expecting me to follow.
I hesitate, weighing options. I could turn back, try the other direction.
Could make a break for it through one of those side passages.
But to what end? I don't know where I am, don't know the terrain, don't have any weapons.
And this woman—Frigga—might lead me to Fen.
She at least indicated she has information about him.
Besides, my stomach twists with a hunger so intense it's almost painful. So it won’t hurt to follow for now. Gather intel. Find Fen. Then decide next steps.
She leads me to a small balcony overlooking the city. A small round table holds fruits, bread, and what smells like sweet alcohol in crystal goblets. The setup looks like something from a luxury hotel, except for the alien cityscape beyond.
"Eat," she says. "Your body needs it."
I stay standing. Old GUIDE training kicks in… never accept food or drink in an unknown situation. But my stomach growls loudly, betraying me.
"It's not poisoned," Frigga says with a hint of amusement. "If we wanted you dead, my husband wouldn't have gone to the trouble of bringing you back to life."
That’s fair…
But I still stay standing. "Where's Fen?"
A shadow crosses her face. "My grandson has not been seen since he brought you here."
"Your grandson?" The pieces click together.
"You're Fen's grandmother?" She definitely doesn’t look old enough to be a grandmother, but she also introduced herself as Frigga, which if my mythology lessons serve me makes her the Queen of the Norse Pantheon.
But all of this is a bit far-fetched. And mythology is just that… myth, right?
She raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I am. And you are Astrid, though that’s all I know about you."
I finally sit. "I died, didn't I?"
"Yes." She sits across from me. "For several minutes your heart stopped. Eir neutralized the chimera venom, but Odin himself retrieved your spirit."
I take a piece of bread. It's warm and has a hint of honey. Better than anything I've had in years. "Why would the king of the Norse gods bother saving me?"
"Because my grandson loves you," she says simply. "And because you carry something that belongs to Fen."
"What are you talking about?" My heart stutters. Carry something? My hand instinctively moves to my abdomen. Is she implying—no, that's impossible. We never... But alien biology? My mind races through the implications.
Her eyes pierce through me. "He hasn't explained the connection? What you are to each other?"
I shake my head, remembering the electric feeling whenever we touched, the inexplicable trust despite everything. The warm buzz in my body the closer he was to me.
A buzz that is currently very quiet.
The now realized silence is deafening.
Like losing radio contact in hostile territory. That constant hum of energy I'd felt around Fen—something I hadn't even realized had become my new normal—is barely perceptible now.
Also… Fen loves me? We barely know each other. But even as I think it, I remember his eyes when he carried me, the desperation in his voice. The way something in me recognized him from the first moment. Like finding a piece I didn't know was missing.
And now that connection is fading. Which means either he's too far away... or something worse.
"You are his mate, Astrid. His soul's other half." She leans forward. "Centuries ago, my grandson's soul was shattered. The fragment found its way to you, and embedded itself within your spirit. It waited centuries for the right soul. You've carried a piece of him your entire life."
I nearly choke on the bread. "That's not possible."
But even as I deny it, I she’s speaking the truth. How I couldn't bring myself to shoot him in the forest, even when I had the shot. How I trusted him instinctively despite years of GUIDE training warning me never to trust anything non-human.
"Yet here you are." She offers a sad smile. "You died in front of him. He heard your heart stop. The wolf took control, consumed by grief. He's been running wild since then. None of my men have been able to find him. Not even Eir has been able to pick up a trace."
She rises, moving to the railing. "He thinks you're dead. He doesn't know Eir and I saved you. Doesn't know his grandfather Odin brought your soul back from Valhalla."
I set down the bread, suddenly less hungry. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Six days," she says.
Six days. Fen has been running wild for six days, thinking I'm dead. Thinking he lost me.
"Where is he now?" I demand, bolting to my feet. The urgency surprises even me. I need to find him. Need to let him know I'm alive. I join her at the railing, scanning the horizon as if I could spot him through sheer force of will.
"I need to find him. Now." Not a request. A statement of fact, as inevitable as gravity.
She gestures toward the distant forests and mountains beyond the city limits.
"Somewhere in the wilderness beyond the city.
" She turns to me, her expression serious.
"I need you to bring my grandson back to me.
You're his mate. You're the only one who might have a chance of reaching him, of bringing him back from his wolf.
He needs you. He needs to bond with you. "
"Bond?"
"He needs to bite you, mark you as his." Her eyes search mine. "Without it, he will remain lost to us, consumed by grief, trapped in his beast."
I stare at her, struggling to process what she's saying. Bite me? Mark me? Fen never mentioned anything about this—not one word about bonds or mates or marking. This sounds like something out of one of those old fantasy romance novels, not reality.
"I barely know him," I say, though the words sound hollow even to me. The truth is, I feel like I know him on a deep level I can't explain. But being bitten by him? Being marked? That's something else entirely.
"Don't you?" She gives me a knowing look. "Haven't you felt it from the first moment? The recognition? The sense that you could trust him?"
The man saved my life. Carried me through dimensions. Is suffering because of me. I owe him this much—to at least try to find him. To let him know I'm alive.
"Even if what you're saying is true," I say carefully, "How would I find him?" I wave my hand toward the mountains. “He could be anywhere.”
"Your wolf will know." She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
My wolf? I swallow and take a step away from her. “I don’t have a wolf.”
“You do now.” She moves toward the doorway. "Rest. Eat. Consider what I've told you. I'll return later to answer your questions."
I watch her leave, then turn back to the view of this impossible place. My mind races. A wolf…
And somewhere out there is Fen… who thinks I'm dead. A man who carried me to another world. Who apparently loves me. I’m his soul mate. And his grandfather—Odin—brought me back from death and gave me a fucking wolf.
I sit back down, picking up one of the strange bits of fruit and popping it into my mouth. The tartness explodes across my tongue. It’s good. And I’m so hungry.
I look at my hand, trying to imagine it as a paw. I can’t.
This is ridiculous.
A growl rattles in my chest and a strange feeling of desperation washes through me. And then a foreign voice whispers in my mind.
We need Fen.