Chapter Eighty
Rey
My lungs scream as I fight the current, chest tightening with every stroke.
The water is surprisingly warm, ink-dark, except for the faint blue light shimmering from the ice trail Aric created.
I dive deeper, deeper than I’d ever dare, heart pounding and vision tunneling as the glow sharpens into shape. Ten feet more, maybe less.
Something waits at the bottom.
The current claws at me, whipping at my skirts, trying to drag me away.
I’ve never been a strong swimmer, obviously never delighted in practicing.
I don’t know what dark sources feed this pool or where these deadly currents lure their prey.
But the thought is tearing at my brain, making me desperate to stop, to turn back.
But I keep going. Aric needs me.
Ears popping and lungs straining, I kick deeper into the murky depths. The darkness is nearly absolute now, past the point Aric’s light can reach, and I can barely force down my panic—but I suddenly notice a sickly green glow emanating from my palm.
No, from the stone. From the rune of the serpent.
Light seems to drift from it like smoke, leading me toward…
There, at the bottom. A raised square shape. I’m almost there. I can do this.
The current pulls me away, and then it shifts, almost like it recognizes me. With a violent shove, it slams me against the floor, anchoring me in place.
I wrap my hand around the hammer, hold tight. My chest convulses with the need to breathe, to let panic take over in the all-consuming water, but I try not to listen. I’ve got it. I’m nearly there.
But when I push off the muddy bottom, I don’t move.
The water refuses. It pins me, iron-heavy.
I kick again, terror flaring as my throat tightens, desperate for air.
Mjolnir let me pick it up. Why isn’t it letting me escape?
Dark edges start closing in around my vision, the warm water growing even warmer. Visions flash: Laufey planting in her garden, telling me a story. Ziva and me, laughing together over steaming cups of to-go coffee. Aric. Teasing me. Loving me. Protecting me.
I know it’s the end, and I should feel alone. But I’m not alone. They’re all here with me.
That’s when I see a murky shape swimming toward me. I can barely make it out, but I know it’s him.
Rowen.
He came for me.
I grab his outstretched arm with my free hand, grip so tight that my nails dig into his skin. Together we launch upward, the current slicing past us as though it’s suddenly letting go. We break the surface in a burst of spray, gasping, and collapse against the stone steps.
My teeth chatter, my lungs burn raw, my vision blurred from lack of oxygen. Body trembling, I drag myself across the floor, eyes immediately searching for Aric. He’s still where I left him, but at least Reeve’s no longer got him at sword point.
Rowen stands.
“Thank you,” I rasp, every breath jagged, pulling the strings on my corset loose to breathe easier. “For saving me.”
Father’s laugh rolls across the chamber like thunder. “Do you really think it’s about you?”
Rowen cuts him a glare. “Keep your word.”
Odin’s eyes gleam, too bright, too hungry. “Your time starts now.”
Time? Time for what? I don’t understand.
Rowen lifts me, his grip ironclad, and sets me on my unsteady feet. He pries the box from my hand.
When he flicks it open, my world splinters.
It isn’t Mjolnir.
It’s not Thor’s hammer.
I failed.