“What’s taking her so long?” Ivor hissed.
“There was trouble at the Light Palace. Giants, it seems.”
Vali clenched his teeth, the only thing he could move besides the rise and fall of his chest.
“That won’t stop her,” Ivor decided. “And Frey already said he would help—” A sound rocked the world above them, sending a sheen of dust trailing from the ceiling. “What was that?”
His captors assessed the sound with still breaths.
“Grab the prisoner, Finn. The witches have arrived.”
A low growl slipped from the receding darkness before Vali felt the wolf’s teeth in his shoulder. But the chords in his throat were shredded thin from heavy breathing and swallowed screams, and he had no voice left to cry out. His body slid easily across the slick tile as they dragged him from the room.
A small victory.
He smelled the night crisp against his throat. The contrast of air burned his nose and chilled the blood still oozing down his airway. They brought him outside, where voices muffled together in a chorus of disorder, unable to discern words hidden by other words. The wolf dropped him on the granite face of the mountainside before a figure loomed over him. The face concealed beneath a hood and a shadow formed from the moonlight.
“Vali, Vali, Vali,” it sang. “Look how far you’ve fallen.”
“Nerissa,” he muttered with distaste.
“Hello, darling. Have you missed me?”
He spat a mouthful of blood that persistently pooled in his cheek and hoped it met its mark. Judging by the way she jerked out of his line of vision, his trajectory had been accurate.
“Tie him to the stake. When the Tether comes, we need him ready to burn immediately in case she tries to do anything noble. Where is the Great Wolf? He should be here by now.” She spat the order at the witches around him. Their hands clawed at his skin and stirred alive new pain from the shifting of his broken bones.
When they were done, he opened his eyes and found they were in an empty courtyard overlooking the valley outside of the Haven, a castle built into the mountain itself and carved by the river bordering just south of where they stood. If he could make it to the waters, he could be restored. But the river was a long way to travel with a snapped femur, and he had two of those.
Frey’s domain towered above and loomed a shadow across the valley, exaggerating the eerie glow of torches held by each Volva witch before him. It appeared half the coven was here, waiting for the source of their ancient power to show itself so they could take it, or watch him burn along with Odin’s last hope.
“Death by fire?” he asked Nerissa. “Didn’t you already try that?”
She smiled with a wicked twitch of her lips. “I made a mistake last time. The runes are in your flesh not your heart, but once I burn them away, so will their protection over you fade. And you’ll be just like the rest of us.” She stepped close, her nose in line with his. “Vulnerable.”
His breath was raspy in his throat as he returned her glare. “If you kill me, you’ll kill her too.”
Nerissa’s face betrayed a flinch. If she carried any ounce of care for him still, it slipped the moment he spoke of his bond with Ailsa. “I know. But it is better she dies if she refuses to do what we say.” Nerissa spoke as the witches poured an oil over the kindle beneath his feet, spare drops speckled bare skin where his clothes had been torn.
“And what will you ask of her?” he asked.
Nerissa looked away, searching the shadows lining the valley as if they would answer instead. “I will not be the one asking questions, Vali. What happens from this moment on is out of my control.”
Vali’s breath quickened. “What do you meanout of your control? Are you not the one orchestrating this? Was it not your idea to kill me all those years ago? Do not pretend you are not here to finish what you started.”
Nerissa growled, and for a moment he thought she would set fire to the kindle beneath his feet regardless of killing his mate. “Don’t flatter yourself, Vali. I am here because the wolven required the services of the Volva and we are here to claim our payment. No longer will we have to hide in the shadow of the Tree or be ruled by spinners of fate. With Ailsa we will recreate the worlds how they were originally designed to function. But for a new universe to be born, this one must burn.”
Vali’s eyes widened with understanding, and he cursed himself for not seeing this sooner. The wolven were not acting on their own, they did not hide in Alfheim because it was their home. They came here to hide from the divines, in the only godless realm in the Tree.
His silent wonders were answered as a door leading to the stone courtyard swung open. Out stepped a towering figure of a man with silver hair flowing down his shoulders. Vali had never seen this man before, but the frosty eyes that studied him were familiar, as was the hatred they burned him with. They glazed over his body pathetically tied to a pyre near the mouth of the court. The fists balled at his sides were lined with long claws; his skin was grey, like he hadn’t seen the sun in a century.
This wasn’t just another wolf. This wasthewolf. Standing before him was the demigod, Fenrir.
“Nerissa, love,” he spoke as the moon draped his half-clothed body in light. The man was stacked with muscle, shadows hung inside each cord and chiseled rivet. He reached for the witch, and she came to his side, slipping her hand between his treacherous claws. “You have outdone yourself this time.”
“Oh, just you wait, Great One. It’s about to get better.”
“Look at the sky!” someone shouted. Every head followed the command, and Vali saw a black figure descending above them. Silver moonlight filtered through eagle feathers. A lone rider on Elísar’s back.