And then I drag my poor, mostly-dead brother onto the warm, jagged ground in front of the mouth of the angry volcano.The second Liz flies through, the creatures milling around in the bubbling lava begin chanting.I may not be able to see them, but I hear them well enough.
Gullveig.
Hjartanu.
Gullveig!Hjartanu!
Gullveig!Bjargaðu okkur!Gullveig!
I hate them—more even than Liz’s mother.I want to rend them into small pieces, or fly her away from here and never return.But it’s not an option right now, because now that we’re here, my stupid bonded human is literally sprinting toward the dumb lava.
I’mnotgoing in again,Gordon says.
No one else will,I say.That’s an order.
Before Liz leaps into the lava, she points at Coral, who has jogged through the portal after her almost-dead, bonded, flame blessed prince.“Do.Not.Die.Do you hear me?You take one hundred and ten percent of that stubborn, pain-in-the-ass nature that you have, and you cling to that for all you’re worth until I’m back.Do you hear me?”
Coral nods, tears running down her face.“Please Liz—you made it out last time.Do it one more time.”
Then Liz leaps from the edge of the rock into the lava.I’m only half a step behind her, but it’s enough.I have to watch as her body hits the lava—which has a more substantial form than I thought it would.She hits it more like a wall than a pool.Her body blackens, and then shescreams.
And then I hit too, and the world’s nothing but fire and ash andpain.
22
Liz
Icould hear Azar behind me as I hit the lava—I know he was there, but here I am again, alone, in a sea of nothingness.
“This is the loneliest place I have ever been,” I say.“I think it must have been terrible for you.”
“Think of this like a foyer.”
I spin around, and Freya’s here.
“Hello, Freja,” I say.“Nice to see you again.”
Her smile’s slow coming, but it’s real when it arrives.“You’re learning.”
“Too slowly,” I say.“Clearly.But I’ve remembered some things.”
Freya tilts her head.“Sometimes I wonder which of us had it harder—remembering and reliving every last moment for all time, never-ending, never ceasing.Or what you had to endure—forgetting everything and being born anew.”She shrugs.
“You’re saying I’m like Azar,” I say.“I’ve forgotten all that went before, and I’m acting like a complete idiot.”
Freya tilts her head.“Not quite like Azar, no.His memories are there—if he will just do what it takes to reach them.Yours...you are Gullveig, and you’re not.There was a softness to her that doesn’t exist within you.It was burned away, perhaps.”
“My mother tells me that I’m an abomination—a demon, maybe.She paid a witch to bring me back from the dead.Maybe that’s where Gullveig went.”
Freya laughs.“And you believed that nonsense?Her ridiculous midwife was wrong—you were never dead.The one thing a witch is good at is stealing things that aren’t hers, and making unjust deals.Your mother went looking for demons, so she found them.It’s that simple.”
“I have so many questions, but I don’t have time?—”
“Because you’re here to save your sister.”
“And your son.”
It’s small—almost imperceptible—but I know Freya better now.She flinches.
