Chapter 83
Solveig kept her face blank as she took in the ancient witchcraft on the table.
Part of her studies in Vanir school had been learning about all the different kinds of magic.
Vanir had not only their source magic, but also ways to harness magic from the land of other realms—from the earth, from crystals and stone. Mortals who’d tried to use this form of magic were burned at the stake by the other races for stealing power.
The crystals laid out in the pool of water buzzed with energy, calling to Solveig’s charged magic. She was drawn to the table and couldn’t help but peer over, noting the runes and the placement of each crystal, specifically the rose quartz and the hematite.
She didn’t need to be told what it all meant.
“You’re trying to speak to the gods?” she asked without looking at Astrid, unable to tear her eyes away from the circle. Westley’s surprise skittered down the bond.
“Only to one,” Astrid said, meaning clear in her voice.
Solveig nodded, but Westley sounded confused and a little frustrated when he asked, “Which one?”
“The one who will guide you to your destination,” Astrid answered vaguely. Solveig felt Westley bristle, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
You enjoy my frustration? he asked.
I like seeing you squirm.
I’ll squirm for you any time.
It was hard to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. Leave it to West to fill every conversation with innuendo.
“Focus,” Laeknir barked. Solveig’s spine went rigid at his tone. She still didn’t know how to feel about seeing him here.
Hurt, betrayed, angry, guilty, sad.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, wary of him standing so close. There was only so much damage one could do to someone who was already dead. But if he wanted revenge, he could easily trap her.
If he did, her soul would never escape Hel.
Despite all that, Solveig focused on the magic happening in front of her—the long since abandoned craft that had become illegal for mortals to use. Another way their race was punished unfairly.
Without warning, the glasslike pool of water flickered and a mist began to rise. Solveig looked over at Astrid to see her holding an amethyst stone in each hand, her eyes closed and her lips moving as she silently chanted the ancient words.
“Look,” Westley said, drawing her attention back to the magic on the table.
The pool morphed, a blurry vision that became clearer with each second. The mist dissolved, and when Solveig saw the familiar rock formations they’d been looking for, she grabbed Westley’s arm, feeling the flex of his muscles beneath her grasp.
“That’s where he is,” she breathed. They were being shown the way to her father.
It was as if the pool was showing them from someone’s perspective—the image began to move, demonstrating what direction to take through their eyes. The vision warped and curved with movement, but Solveig was able to see each step they were to take from the cottage.
Astrid kept chanting, but Solveig noted the toll it was taking on her. Though it was difficult, the dead could still be harmed.
Spirits could be erased from existence entirely with the right kind of magic. The kind that drained essence from the soul.
This ancient witchcraft did just that—it was the cost Yggdrasil demanded from mortals for using her magic.
Laeknir, too, noticed Astrid’s effort and made to interrupt before she went too far, but Westley stopped him. “Wait,” he said, gesturing to the pool.
The vision of their path had cleared, and in its stead, Sten appeared. But not Sten from the present. A brief hope that he’d somehow made it to Valhalla flashed through Solveig.
It was a vision of them back in the Southern Wilds. His lips moved, but no sound came out. The vision played again and again until it clicked.
His prophecy.
Three betrayals. One ends in death, one in forgiveness, and the other in Hel.
She couldn’t help it—her gaze landed on Laeknir.
His betrayal ended in death and in Hel, and she wasn’t sure if she could forgive him.
This was why she hated prophecies—they were too vague to really be of use. Even though this one was rather direct, it still held too many questions.
Were the betrayals ones that had already happened, like Latham’s? Or ones that were in the works, still unknown to her, like Laeknir’s? Was it something that could be seen as a betrayal, like Westley betraying the bond even though they weren’t aware of it? Or was it something new entirely?
Thinking about it gave Solveig a headache.
Sten’s reminder was like a punch to her stomach. She didn’t have the capacity to process what it would mean if Laeknir’s betrayal was only the first. That alone had shaken her foundation.
Westley put his hand on her back as the vision slowly faded away. Laeknir caught Astrid as she slumped from the exertion.
I will not betray our bond again. I will not betray you, he vowed.
A thought crossed through her mind. What if she was one of the betrayers? Could she be the one to betray her mate? Her mothers? Yggdrasil?
Stupid fucking vague prophecy.
Solveig knelt in front of Astrid, wishing she could help her in some way. “Thank you.”
Astrid took Solveig’s hands in hers, and it was like being held by a current of wind. No matter how solid they looked, Laeknir and Astrid were spirits. They had no bodies like the dead who made it to Valhalla.
The cold sensation of Astrid’s touch chilled her bones.
“Remember who you are, Solveig Tordottir,” Astrid whispered. Solveig thought she saw the mortal’s eyes pale just a fraction. “When the darkness comes, remember who you are.”
“Thank you,” Solveig said again, unsure of her meaning.
“He had his reasons,” Astrid whispered only to her.
“He did it for you,” Solveig replied.
Astrid shook her head lightly. “Not just for me.”
“Then for what?”
“That is not my story to tell. Now, you must not linger here any longer.”
Solveig nodded and got to her feet. Westley opened the door of the cottage and they walked out, immediately heading in the direction the vision had shown them.
Laeknir followed them out and cleared his throat. Westley turned to him, but Solveig kept her back to him.
“May Tyr guide your sword,” Laeknir said quietly.
Still, Solveig did not face him.
“And may Thor bring us home safely,” she whispered back.