Chapter 4 - Freya
Freya
Ancient howls that seemed to come from the very bones of the earth echoed through the dream.
I stood in a vast hall that stretched beyond sight, its ceiling lost in swirling mists that held the glimmer of distant stars. Massive pillars supported the impossible architecture, and between them moved figures of legend — two wolves larger than horses with eyes like burning coals.
Geri and Freki. The names whispered through my consciousness as I watched the great wolves pad through the hall with regal grace. When they turned their ancient gazes toward me, I felt the weight of millennia in their stare.
Time seemed to flow around me, carrying me into a new scene.
I saw the first humans to ever exist — Embla created from an elm and Ask created from an Ash tree. Odin gave them breath and life, while other gods gave them intelligence, the gift of movement in physical form, and senses.
They were the ancestors of all humans, and their offspring were sent to live in Midgard.
These fragile, hairless creatures huddled around dying fires. They were starving and desperate, their children’s hungry cries echoing across frozen wastelands.
Then came the wolves.
Geri and Freki emerged from the wilderness with slow, deliberate steps, each carrying fresh meat in their jaws. They laid the food at the humans’ feet before settling around the struggling family, their huge bodies a living wall against the freezing wind.
The children stopped crying and overcame their fear first.
One small hand reached out, hesitated, and then sank into thick, frost-dusted fur. Instead of snapping, the wolf leaned into the touch.
Courage, a voice like distant thunder spoke in my mind. Wisdom. Love. Loyalty to the pack.
Images flooded through me, not as words but as instincts the wolves poured into the frail humans. Stand together. Shelter your weak. Share what you have. Face the dark as a group, not as scattered, trembling individuals.
The scene shimmered and flowed, time leaping forward.
I saw another night, another fire, another human line born from those first survivors. A woman stood at the edge of the camp, alone, staring into the dark forest as if she heard a call no one else could hear.
Something vast moved between the trees.
A single golden eye gleamed out of the shadows, followed by the massive form of a wolf that was… more than a wolf. Power radiated from him like heat from a forge.
Odin, I realized, wearing a wolf’s skin.
He stepped into the firelight and pressed his great head against the woman’s hip. The world flickered. For an instant he was a wolf and a man at once — fur and skin, fang and smile. The scene flowed, and then there were children who were not entirely human.
Volsungs, the word rose in my mind. The first wolf shifters.
The vision widened, showing their descendants scattering across distant lands.
Some took mates from the wild red and black wolves — Fenrir’s children, Skoll and Hati, and the wolves born from them — Loki’s wolves.
Others bonded with pale-furred wolves who carried the echo of Geri and Freki’s wise presence — the descendants of Odin’s wolves.
Still other bloodlines carried down from their own ancient origins, like those marked with a crescent moon in their fur.
Bloodlines tangled and braided together. From these unions came warriors who moved like packs even in human form, who wore the pelts of their honored dead over their shoulders, and who followed Odin into battle as Ulfhednar.
The wolves had given humans more than warmth and food. They had given them a way of belonging — of fighting and living as packs instead of as lonely, frightened creatures.
With their work among mortals complete, Geri and Freki leaped skyward, their bodies stretching into streaks of silver and shadow. They crossed the world in a heartbeat and settled into the unseen places between realms.
The patterns they’d taught — unity, shared strength, the sacred bond of pack — spread from human to human, then from shifter to shifter, until their origin was forgotten.
The dream-vision shifted again, back to that one-eyed wolf just as the wolf-skin fell away. I beheld Odin himself — one-eyed and terrifying with ravens perched on his broad shoulders as he gazed down at the world below.
Magic flowed from him like liquid starlight, seeping into the earth, into the creatures that roamed its surface.
That magic swirled and collected into certain humans, giving these women new magic — the first witches.
His runes shifted over time, becoming sigils I recognized as ones I myself had used to cast spells.
The scene expanded, showing me the greater tapestry. Lokiswolves like Gage, Heath, and Rowan — descendants of chaos and destruction — who had chosen a different path. They’d learned to lead through respect rather than fear, to protect rather than dominate.
They proved that bloodline didn’t determine destiny.
But others hadn’t learned that lesson.
Balance, his voice echoed through my bones. The children of Loki have grown too strong, too hungry. They devour rather than nurture. They conquer rather than unite.
Packs like Denraider swept across territories like a plague, leaving destruction in their wake. So many covens drunk on power, believing magic gave them the right to enslave and torture. The balance Odin had tried to create was shattering.
You are the bridge, Odin’s voice surrounded me, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Odinswolf and witch, predator and protector. You will teach them what Geri and Freki taught the first humans — unity. To serve the pack rather than dominate it.
The vision began to fade, but not before I saw one final image — myself standing atop that impossible mountain from my shared vision with Torsten, but this time I wasn’t just watching the lights push back the darkness.
I led them, weaving them together into something greater than the sum of their parts.
The gods fade, Odin’s voice grew distant. Our magic becomes yours. Use it wisely, daughter of wolves and witches.
The hall dissolved around me, and suddenly I was somewhere else entirely. A snow-covered forest where a familiar figure waited — tall, broad-shouldered, with ice-blue eyes that held the depth of winter storms.
“Torsten,” I breathed, relief flooding through me as I reached for him.
He caught my hands, his expression grim with urgency. “Freya, listen to me. The battle you’re preparing for — it’s not the real fight. Dryden and his witches are a distraction. When Denraider’s main force arrives—”
The dream shattered like glass.
I jolted awake with a gasp, my heart pounding as the vision crumbled into fragments I couldn’t quite grasp. Frustration burned in my chest as I tried desperately to remember what Tor had been about to tell me, but the harder I reached for it, the more it slipped away like smoke.
Maybe it wasn’t real, I told myself — wasn’t a true dreamwalk. Maybe that had been a regular dream. Just a nightmare. So I hoped.
The familiar weight of warm bodies on either side of me gradually permeated my awareness.
Heath’s breath warmed my shoulder, his breathing deep and even.
On my other side, Zak’s face was peaceful in sleep.
His dark arm was draped across my waist, his complexion contrasted against my naked, pale skin.
Their familiar scents were a comfort after the intensity of my dream.
We were back in our temporary camp outside Moonblessed’s walls. After yesterday’s battle with the witches, none of us had wanted to remain in Frost Fang territory any longer than necessary.
I shifted carefully, not wanting to wake either of my bedmates, but the movement caused Zak’s arm to tighten around me. Heath’s caramel eyes opened, immediately alert despite having been asleep moments before.
“Bad dream?” Sleep roughened his voice in sinful ways.
“Frustrating dream,” I corrected, twisting to face him. “I keep trying to reach either Tor or Rowan through dreamwalking.”
“Neither last night, I take it,” Heath murmured.
Zak stirred on my other side. “Tonight, before you fall asleep, feel the bonds in your mind. Try to hold onto them as sleep takes you. Focus on the emotions you feel through the bonds and let that carry you into your dreams.”
He ran a hand down my arm, and I became acutely aware of being pressed between two powerful, attractive men who would do anything for me. Heath’s hand had moved to rest on my hip, his thumb tracing absent patterns against my skin.
“Maybe you should practice that part now,” Heath said, his voice dropping to the lower register that always made heat pool in my belly. “While you’re awake.”
Zak’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “What do you feel through your mate bond with Heath?”
The playful challenge in his voice made Heath’s eyes flash with interest. I watched, fascinated, as my newest mate and one of my most established ones regarded each other with growing awareness. The push-and-pull attraction between them was becoming harder for them to avoid.
I wiggled between them, feeling two hard rods pressing against my body from either side. “I can think of lots of things I feel right now, through the bonds and otherwise.”
Heath’s lips curled in a smile as he glanced from me to Zak, who surprised me by reaching across me to trace one finger along the alpha’s jaw. The simple touch made Heath’s breath catch, and I felt his body tense with surprise and arousal.
“You don’t want to dominate me, do you?” Zak asked, his voice full of surprise, the Bonded link revealing his dawning understanding. “You’re an alpha…”
“An alpha who was never satisfied by all the betas — and even other alphas — who wanted me to dominate them,” Heath growled.
That reminded me of how amazing the bond to Heath had felt when Zak used Heath to ‘demonstrate’ how he would pleasure me, while Flint made sure I benefited from Zak’s creativity by mirroring his actions on me.
We’d all enjoyed the results.