Chapter 37 There Is No We
There Is No We
Astrid Mathieson
This is insane.
Another growl rattles in my chest. The foreign presence stirs again, pressing against my consciousness like a second heartbeat I never asked for.
It feels... alive. Separate from me yet somehow using my own body, my own vocal cords.
My GUIDE training prepared me for a lot, but nothing covered "what to do when a Norse god shoves a wolf spirit into your freshly resurrected body.
We need Fen the female inner voice repeats.
"Stop that," I mutter, glancing around to make sure no one hears me talking to myself. Palace staff probably already think I'm unhinged—the strange human woman who died and came back. No need to confirm it by having conversations with thin air. "There is no we."
But the voice ignores me and whispers again, more insistent, sending a wave of yearning through my body that doesn't feel like my own emotion. Find our mate. Find Fen.
"He's not my—" I cut myself off, jaw clenching. No point arguing with a voice in my head when that voice is apparently an actual sentient being sharing my skull.
I push myself up from the stone bench, indecision giving way to desperation.
Sitting here won't get me answers, and I need those answers more than I need air right now.
Frigga said Fen is somewhere in the forest or the mountains.
The others couldn't find him, and I have no reason to believe I'll fare any better with my limited knowledge of this realm. Except the wolf begs to differ. She’s feeling all kinds of certainty while my human mind catalogs all the ways this could go wrong.
But first, I need proper clothes. This sleeping gown they've put me on might work for convalescence, but I'm not trekking through forests and mountains looking like an escaped mental patient.
I hurry back to the room I woke up in, recalling the turns through the palace with surprising ease. My situational awareness feels heightened, the mental mapping automatic. Points to the wolfy in my brain.
I grab the wardrobe door, yanking it with more force than necessary. The wood splinters, the entire door ripping clean off its hinges with a crack that echoes through the room.
"Fuck."
I stare at the broken wardrobe, the heavy door dangling from my hand like it weighs nothing.
The potted plant beside the wardrobe withers instantly, leaves curling and blackening like they've been hit with a blowtorch.
I watch in horror as the destruction spreads from the roots upward, until all that remains is a husk of what had been vibrant greenery seconds ago.
"Double fuck."
I know what happens when I use my abilities. My power drains life from whatever's closest. Plants and people if there’s not enough life in the earth. I'm a fucking parasite. Guess it doesn’t matter what planet I’m on. Bad magick is bad magick.
"No powers," I remind myself. "Stay calm."
I return to my search with exaggerated care, moving slowly, keeping my strength in check.
Everything is ridiculous. Flowing gowns with metalwork that probably weighs more than my GUIDE tactical gear, elaborate robes with elaborate beading, tunics made of fabric so fine it might as well be air.
Medieval fantasy couture—beautiful, impractical, and utterly useless for what I need to do.
Not right, the wolf agrees, the first moment of synchronicity between us. At least we can align on proper attire for tracking a missing wolf prince through wilderness.
"Come on," I mutter, shoving aside yet another gala-worthy gown. "Just give me pants. Real fucking pants."
Finally, I unearth something almost normal. Dark leggings and a simple tunic in deep green. Not ideal, but I won't look like I'm heading to a medieval costume party. And it won’t get ripped to shreds as soon as I step off the road into the forest.
As I change clothes, my mind circles back to Frigga's revelation.
A wolf. Inside me. Part of me. The voice in my head isn't madness…
it's an actual separate consciousness. How did Odin just give me a wolf?
Although perhaps knowing that I died and was brought back by a Norse god is a little more unsettling. Not sure.
Must go. Find mate.
“If you’re in such a hurry, why don't you help me find some decent boots?" I mutter, searching through the footwear options with growing dismay.
The wolf seems to recede slightly, as if considering this request. I shake my head, disturbed by how quickly I'm adapting to this internal dialogue. Maybe I really am losing it.
I finally find boots that might work—soft leather that laces up to mid-calf.
Better than nothing. As I pull them on, I try to formulate a plan.
The city is huge, the forest beyond it vast. I have no idea how to navigate any of it, but I do agree with the wolf or the voice, whatever…
I need to find Fen. He'll know what to do.
Follow scent. Find mate.
"You need to stop with the mate stuff…" I start to argue again, then stop. Maybe the wolf really can help. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to track, but can I really follow Fen by scent? The others said they tried to find him, too. They didn’t have any luck. Why would I?
Mate calls to mate.
I glance at the dead plant next to the broken wardrobe, guilt twisting in my gut. I can't go through the city leaving a trail of destruction. I need to stay human, stay in control, at least until I reach the forest.
"Okay, wolf," I say, feeling ridiculous talking to myself. "We need to find Fen, but we can't use magick. I don’t want to hurt innocent people."
The pressure in my mind shifts, not quite agreement but something like recognition.
I'll take it.
I finish dressing and move to the door, cracking it open to check the corridor. Empty.
Run. Faster as wolf, the voice prods, sending images flashing through my mind—four legs churning across forest floor, wind streaming through fur, scents crystallizing into a map more detailed than any GPS.
"Not happening," I whisper, my stomach knotting at the suggestion.
The very thought of it… of my bones breaking and reforming, skin splitting to make way for fur, my human consciousness submerged beneath animal instinct. Nope. No way.
Would I still be me if I let the wolf take over?
Would I remember being human, or would Astrid Mathieson disappear entirely, leaving only a beast?
The only reason I'm even entertaining this insanity is because, well, I literally died and came back.
Normal rules clearly don't apply anymore.
And there is definitely a voice in my head.
But transforming my body? Surrendering to an animal consciousness that keeps calling Fen my "mate"? That's a line I'm not ready to cross. Not when I'm still trying to wrap my head around having an unwanted roommate in my brain.
"Not happening," I say firmly.
As I'm about to step through the doorway, voices approach from around the corner. I freeze, considering my options. Before I can decide whether to retreat or make a break for it, Frigga appears. Another woman, maybe Eir, walks a half-step behind her, silver armor gleaming.
"Astrid," Frigga says, "Can I help you find something?"
I straighten. "I need to find Fen."
“You just woke up. Your body needs more time to recover,” the imposing woman in silver armor speaks up quickly. “You won’t be able to help Fen until you can become a wolf.”
Nope. Just had this conversation. I can tolerate my brain being a little crowded, but no way am I taking fur. “I can’t do that. If I use any magick… I can’t… I already killed that plant when I accidentally ripped the door off the wardrobe. Sorry, by the way.”
Frigga studies me for a moment, then glances at the dead plant and the wardrobe door I demolished.
"I see," she says finally. Her eyes hold something—not judgment, but understanding that makes me uncomfortable. Like she can see right through me.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," I admit. "But I need to find Fen."
The woman in silver armor steps forward, her clinical gaze sweeping over me like I'm a specimen under glass. Her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, as if she's resisting the urge to check my pulse or shine a light in my eyes.
"Astrid, this is Eir," Frigga introduces. "She worked to clear the Chimera's poison from your system."
“Good to meet you. Thank you,” I say.
"Your body is still healing," Eir says, her tone that universal doctor-speak that makes everything sound like both a diagnosis and a reprimand. "The journey to find Prince Fenrir will not be easy. He has retreated deep into the mountains."
"I'm fine," I say, squaring my shoulders. Every muscle in my body feels coiled and ready, stronger than I've ever been. "Whatever you guys did. It worked and I will find him."
"How?" Eir challenges, skepticism evident in her narrowed eyes. "Our best men, best wolves, could not locate him. What makes you think you can?"
I feel the wolf stir at the challenge, bristling inside my mind. She doesn't like this woman questioning our abilities. Wait—our abilities? Shit. I'm already thinking like we're a team.
Eir steps forward, her clinical gaze sweeping over me. "Your body is still healing. The journey to find Prince Fenrir will not be easy. He has retreated deep into the mountains."
"I’m fine," I say, squaring my shoulders. I’m not about to let doctor-lady dictate what I can and can’t do. "Whatever you guys did. It worked and I will find him."
"How?" Eir challenges. "Our best men, best wolves, could not locate him. What makes you think you can?"
I hesitate, unwilling to admit that the voice in my head—the wolf Odin apparently dropped into my brain has zero doubts that she can find Fen.
As if she could hear my thoughts, Frigga's expression softens. "You can sense Fen, can't you? The wolf within you. Because you are soul mates."
“Frigga the soul mate magick is broken. She can’t,” the other woman says, her voice sounding very tired in that moment. “It’s not possible.”