Chapter 90
Solveig was blown back by the force of Loki’s shadows as he vanished, whipping her across the cavern.
When the shadows cleared, the space was dark and empty, no power save for her own.
The only sound was her heavy breathing, her broken sobs as she knelt on the floor, still damp from Westley’s tidal wave. She dug her hands into the ground, trying to feel his lingering power in the pools of water, but he was gone.
He was gone.
He’d sacrificed himself for her. He felt he had more to atone for. Even after the lake, after everything they’d been through, he still didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness.
And it was her fault. Her nightmares still woke her from sleep. She bore the scars.
She hadn’t been able to stop her response in the tunnel at the palace, and then in the cave when he stood over her—the memories flashed in her eyes and her body reacted. He’d been punishing himself for it ever since.
Her mate.
She tried to find him through their bond but couldn’t. He was lost in Loki’s shadows.
Solveig’s mind whirled with all the information she’d learned.
As much as Westley had been deceived by his upbringing, so had she. They’d all been pawns, since the beginning of their new world.
They were still controlled by the gods—played like pieces in a game. And Loki—
Fucking Loki.
Her father. The shadows in her soul answered the revelation.
Deep in her bones, she knew it was true. The battle she’d waged against her birthright of darkness, the gift of light she’d inherited—it was all because of bloodshed and trickery.
And her mother, her mother was Frigg. She had no memories of her, but Koa had told her the stories of how great a Seer she was, how just and true.
All fucking lies.
Did Koa know? Did Aelfsi?
Solveig was beginning to understand Westley on a deeper level. Finding lies hidden in the truth was its own betrayal, the way it cracked the very foundation on which her life was built. The struggle to trust, to believe anything more than what could be touched.
The lies ran so deep, she didn’t know how to separate herself from them without burning the fucking world down.
And she would if she had to.
Memories of fleeing with the Southern Wilds flitted through her mind.
Whenever they reached a new encampment, they had to clear a large rough space for her people to thrive. They tried to preserve the land not by destroying, but replanting.
She thought of it now, of moving a tree without harming it. But the larger the tree, the deeper the roots, the harder it was to remove without damage.
Sometimes they came across trees that were so dependent on their root systems that one rotten tree destroyed the rest. They had tried to move the healthy trees to better soil.
At first the trees did not respond, too hurt by the extraction, by the uprooting. But as the years went by, the trees began to thrive, on their own and together in a new area without the disease.
Yggdrasil was built on lies and deceit, bloodshed and shadow. Solveig felt that upheaval in her own soul—felt it as Westley had when he learned the truth about Idavoll and his grandfather. The image of him poring over books in the library was permanently etched in her memory.
She had two options. She could use her light to banish the shadows, try as she might to show the world the truth. How many would listen? How many would turn a blind eye?
The other option was much more satisfying.
She slowly walked out of the cave and trudged through the lands without stopping. The burning in her legs was nothing compared to the obliteration of her heart.
When she made it to the edge of the realm, she peered out at the water while the sun, hidden behind clouds, tried to break through. But Hel was beyond light, and though the sun wished to grace the realm with its warm presence, it was not powerful enough.
The fog along the oil-like surface of the shore ushered in a false sense of calm after the storm. Mist swept over and around her, swirling to avoid the crackling magic in her veins. Solveig closed her eyes and breathed as she felt a flicker of a presence that soothed her soul.
Her eyes snapped open as the fog gathered, rising to meet her growing resolve. She stared at her hands and watched in fascination as they disappeared into shadow.
Loki had overlooked one thing, concentrated as he was on Thor’s magic writhing in her veins. She was his daughter—she’d inherited his darkness.
The shadows were hers to control and they answered as she called upon them for the first time in her life. They stifled the light, proving to her what she already knew. Solveig knelt, using her dagger to slice her palm open, letting it bleed into the cracks of the rocks around her.
“I vow to Vidarr, the god of vengeance himself, to tear the world apart, to bring those responsible to their knees and deliver them to the souls trapped in Hel so they may be feasted upon for eternity.”
The realm shuddered with the power in her words, accepting her vow.
She stood on strong legs as her shadows swirled around her, feeling the last of the binds on her magic loosen and then break under the power she finally embraced.
Her birthright.
Solveig Lokidottir revelled in the freedom she now possessed.
She was a goddess.
Darkness was her salvation, and it would be her mate’s.
Solveig let out a primal roar that shook the very foundation of Hel.
The world descended into darkness as she shrouded herself in shadow. With a smile on her lips, she wielded her newly freed power—vanishing at the mere blink of a thought, transporting herself to the last place anyone would expect.
She would not stop until she had her mate back, until she delivered the gods’ and goddesses’ heads to where they belonged. She blinked back into corporeal form, staying hidden in the shadows, watching her prey.
He noticed the ripple she’d made in the darkness and raised his head, scrambling to the back of his stone cell. A cruel smile curled her mouth as she stepped into the light.
With a cold voice that purred with darkness, she raised the hair on his body.
“Hello, Latham.”
END OF BOOK TWO