Chapter 38 #2
The worst mistake wasn’t making vampires, and it wasn’t my attempts to bring him back to me.
My worst mistake was denying what I knew about myself.
I had been selfish. No amount of hunting monsters would change that, and I didn’t even want to anymore.
I had been selfish for my husband. That was the real me.
Just selfish enough, and willing to throw this entire world into chaos just to find a way to him.
All of my actions in this life and the past had led to the burning of the center of the nine realms, and though I cared for the witches, for my friends and family, I’d risked it all to hold him one last time.
The darkness in me had called to the monster in him.
We’d both become devoid of our morals in pursuit of one another; he’d forced his own father to sacrifice his son and give up his only chance to be together in Valhalla. I’d done so much worse.
Right and wrong blurred into gray, and I felt no shame.
Perhaps he’d ruined me a lifetime ago when I vowed myself to him in marriage.
He’d ruined whatever sense of justice I had, and we killed recklessly alongside each other, defending our farm, our home.
Alongside him, I was just myself, and now, I claimed no identity.
I was simply ruined.
The solid feel of his body swept away, like water falling through my fingers.
I couldn’t cling to him as I grieved. Even his clothes withered to ash from the acidic black blood, leaving the only two things behind that were his—the sword discarded on the ground several paces away, and the ring he’d taken from Sten.
I snagged the bronze chain that’d fallen into the moss when his neck turned to ash.
Picking it up, a fresh wave of pain rose in my chest, crowding my heart and throat with unbearable pressure.
“He’s gone,” I whispered, barely aware that my sister still loomed over me.
“Well,” she said, sucking in a breath. “If you want to give up that easily, then yes, he’s gone.”
Narrowing my eyes, I twisted my neck to squint up into the orange glow that gave her silhouette a hellish halo.
I formed a fist around the chain and ring, pushing it hard against my palm.
Likely resembling Odin’s ravens, I stared at her with gleaming black eyes, full of grief and a dash of hatred for toying with me. “You’re taunting me.”
“Nope,” she said nothing more, turning her attention to a loose thread on her undershirt sleeve beneath the bodice. Silent and patient, she did not flinch as the heat edged nearer.
I seethed, and the fingers of my free hand grabbed at nothing, tightening into an empty fist now that I could no longer touch Drak.
“What are you saying?” My voice cracked, though not with the same vicious whip as the flames.
Where I was weak, the fire ebbed stronger.
Having reached the lower branches now, the fire zipped out to the tips of the branches, creating a ceiling of embers above us.
Ash rained down, leaving flecks of black and grey in her loose hair. “You won, Silver. It’s over.”
She rolled onto the tips of her toes and then back to her heels with her hands now clasped in front of her, just the way she used to do as a child.
Seeing my sister made Skaldir feel like a world I was only just remembering.
Despite her cruelty and hunger for power, she was still the girl I once shared a bed with.
That mischievous curl of her lips told me she had something I wanted.
I remembered the last time she wore that grin: she’d swiped the final meat pie from my plate, leaving me to stare at the empty dish with my stomach gnawing.
Then she’d made her offer—my own pie in exchange for doing her chores—and I’d learned, even then, that mischief always came with a price.
Though it was decades ago, my memory was sharp after recalling an entire lifetime before this one, and my childhood in Skaldir felt like it was just yesterday.
I pulled my dry, bloodied lips apart, wincing. “I have nothing left.” I opened my arms, showing that they were empty of a stake, of any weapons, and of Drak. My heart squeezed. “I know you want something, but what can I possibly give you?”
Her wicked smile spread further, crinkling the edges of her unblinking eyes.
Crouching beside me, she tapped her skull.
“Think about it, Silver.” She used her own name, likely to remind me of my lies, and of how I’d let her get taken by the executioners and suffer half a life buried beneath Mara’s Keep.
“I’m sorry,” I said, unsure if she wanted another apology.
I couldn’t change what I’d done as a child.
Seeing the former leaders of the Blood Council at her side made something within me both recoil from Silver and pity her at the same time.
She wanted to make them proud, just as she had with our father when he let her sit in his Vyl’s chair.
She was still that same desperate child, needing love.
Though I accepted my selfishness when it came to my decisions around Drak, I’d never forgive myself for ripping my sister away from our home.
Shaking her head, she hummed. At first, the sound was almost beautiful, like a song, but it grew haunting as it stretched out and vibrated at a high pitch.
The melody cut off quickly, and her eyes flashed with that same taunting mischief.
What could she possibly want from me now?
She could simply march out of here with her army and take the throne she’d had her sights set on.
“Where’s our mother?” I asked.
“She’s safe.” I didn’t know why I believed her. Perhaps I had well and truly lost my mind.
“And my friend, Stasia?”
“Well, Stasia is friends with a witch, so right about now…” She tapped her chin and then shrugged. “I suppose she’s probably nearing the end of her journey to Einnland’s shore.”
My brow furrowed. “The shore?”
“The Blood Council had plans before you and your husband wrecked them. I’m simply restoring what was meant to be so that I can feed my army.”
“Mother is the friend,” I said, finally understanding. “Stasia stayed with her.”
Of course she did. Stasia was loyal, caring, and the man she loved was an executioner.
If Silver aimed to continue the Blood Council’s plans, he would send all the witches and defected executioners to sea to explore beyond Vylheim.
The witches would be used for any remnants of magic they might hold as Yggdrasil turned to ash, guiding the way with glimpses of the future.
If they still had such abilities now that the center of the nine realms was burning to the ground.
“Now you’re thinking,” she said.
Cool relief spread over my chest, temporarily lifting the grief that twisted beneath my ribs. They were alive. My mother and Stasia still lived, and though the sea was treacherous, they’d survived so much already. Could they survive the storms at sea?
Would the storms be so bad now that Thor couldn’t throw his thunder into Vylheim to punish us? His power over the weather ceased. Yggdrasil’s complete destruction would weaken his reach, possibly to the point of non-existence.
It gave me a brief slice of peace, just enough to feel my body again. My limbs were heavy, but no longer completely numb.
Silver’s tongue clucked, snapping me back to the present. “Where’s your crown?” I blinked and then glared at her. What the Hel did that mean? Before I could ask, she tapped the top of my head hard with two fingers. “You’re the queen, sister, so where’s your crown?”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand what you want.”
“You,” she said. “To bow. Before the new queen.” With that, she straightened, rising again to her full height. A branch behind her snapped and tumbled to the ground, flaming bright like a torch, and she didn’t so much as flinch.
“You don’t need me,” I said, looking away. “I was barely their queen.”
She popped right back down to a crouch again, nimble as a child.
With a cocked head, her wide brown eyes gaped.
Then, she grabbed my jaw and lurched my chin back as if I were the childlike one incapable of focusing my attention.
“Are you going to let yourself burn alive here like the witch that you are—”
“Stop!” I cried.
“Or,” she went on, entirely unbothered by my anger. “Are you going to keep your promise?” Nodding toward my vacant hands, her peculiar smile expanded.
My eyes narrowed to two slits. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She let out an exaggerated sigh and swept past me, kicking at the ash littering the moss.
“This is why Father so easily persuaded you to lie for so long.” Her footsteps froze behind me.
“You don’t think for yourself. What do the sagas say about souls?
What happened to the soul when Myrah turned humans into vampires?
I know you haven’t forgotten what it is Odin did to give humans life. You’re a god now, sister.”
I was a godkiller, and yes, a type of god with Odin’s powers. But I didn’t ask for this immortality. Fuck. All this meant was that I’d exist forever, which was a goal I’d had when my husband was in Valhalla, but now he didn’t exist at all.
“Since I’m a god now, I could kill you and I don’t think you’d be able to stop me.
” Odin’s perfect reaction came to mind. Gods always had glimpses of the future, though I had no idea how to harness that or if it would simply come upon me during a fight.
The sagas said that times of distress sparked the gods’ abilities.
She shared an amused glance with Ylva and Darius, and an odd chuckle escaped her. They said nothing, but Silver’s need to get their approval was unmistakable as Ylva offered her a meager nod. Silver shrugged. “You wouldn’t kill me if it was the only way to survive.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know something you need. To restore a soul, you need to know what happened to it in the first place.” She hummed briefly, then brushed past me.
With that, Silver and the Blood Council marched away, their footsteps growing quieter as the crackle of the fire overwhelmed them. Alone now, I let my head fall forward, and my arms go limp at my sides. I succumbed to defeat.
What could Silver possibly know about Myrah’s powers that I didn’t?
Nothing. There was nothing I could do to protect my mother or the other witches.
Even the gods had limits, which was exactly why they needed a huntress to do their bidding.
A god has influence and authority over creation.
Not control of that life, not until the afterlife.
Nothing remained of Drak, only ash.
Overwhelmed by the fire’s blistering heat, I shut my eyes tightly and slowly succumbed to the ground. The flames licked at my skin, and it felt as if I might melt here, pooling over Drak’s ashes, utterly wasted, just as I had over the last few weeks we had shared.
Folding into myself, I lay where he’d died, unable to cry.
No tears came. Only numbness returned, slithering through my limbs and settling over me like a bitter fog.
I tried to will it away, but it clung, heavy and relentless.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the echo of absence and the hollow beat of my own chest.
At least I could no longer feel the heat of the fire.