Hitler was alive and well and standing near the edge of the patio of the Berghof, his favorite home in the Austrian Alps. A group of men, jovial and smug, surrounded him. To Hitler’s right, she recognized Heinrich Himmler and Martin Bormann. To his left sat WWI Ace Hermann Goering as he talked to his wife and Hitler’s girlfriend, Eva Braun. Slinking in the background near the door going into the chalet stood Reinhard Heydrich—the brain behind the extermination of the Jews, Romani, and other people the Nazis considered undesirable.
“What in the hell is happening? How are Heydrich and Hitler alive? Didn’t we stop the Nazis?” Confused, she glanced at Lilyann.
Lilyann frowned. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Alva thought back to her walk, but she couldn’t recall what she had been doing right before that. She pushed herself up and leaned against the tufted back of the sofa where it curved around, the elegant dark wood snaking downward as it connected to the armrest. Pushing her hair back, she scrubbed her face, weary of it all.
“I remember the council meeting with my mother and sisters. My next memory is walking through the forest and smelling smoke.”
Lilyann scooted around to face her, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on the sides of each knee. “You don’t remember anything in between?” Alva merely shook her head. “Where was the smoke coming from?”
“I couldn’t tell you where I was. I’ve never seen the village before, but there wasn’t a building that hadn’t been set on fire.”
“So, it was intentional?”
Alva nodded. “Yes. Just before waking up here, I heard my aunt’s voice telling me they’d planned the fire to get to me.” She spoke in a small voice, quickly wiping away a stray tear. “Evidently, they will stop at nothing to keep me from living as a Huldra, much less being the queen. They killed Gytha’s entire family.” She raised her tear-filled gaze to Lilyann’s stricken face. “Why would they do that?”
“Are you certain of this, Alva?” Freyja said behind them. A repetitive swishing sound from the goddess’s long skirt stopped behind the sofa. The weight of Freyja’s hand rested on top of Alva’s head, her calming magic flowing into her.
“Yes, my lady. I saw their bodies lying side by side on the floor. It was difficult to see because of the thick smoke, but when I moved Gytha’s hair from her face, I knew it was her. I don’t understand any of this.”
Freyja sat in the chair next to the sofa and waved her hand in front of her. She wore dark-purple, almost black, nail color, which very unlike anything the goddess had worn before. She turned her gaze to the God’s Glass and watched as the scenes sped by in a blur. After about thirty seconds, they slowed and stopped on the familiar village.
Alva sat up and pointed. “That’s where I was!” She frowned, her hand slowing lowering to her lap. “I’m so confused. Where’s the fire? Almost every building was ablaze when I was there.” She threw a quick glance at Freyja before turning back to the village, half expecting to see her aunts. “This has to be in the past. Is there any way to warn them? With the changes we’re trying to make, my mother will need Gytha’s wisdom now more than ever.”
“This isn’t the past, Alva, it’s the present. As you can see, there is no fire. The children are playing in front of their homes and the older Huldra youth are watching over them. You can see several women sitting around Gytha at the village center.” Freyja leaned forward, slightly squinting. “That fountain is exquisite. Look at the stonework around the base. Someone was quite the artisan.”
A hopeless feeling settled in Alva’s chest as she stared at the oldest, still living Huldra, unable to get her vacant gaze out of her mind. Perched on the outer ledge of the fountain’s base, Gytha talked to the group of women who sat around her, her arms gesturing in wild circles in front of her. Alva’s hip tingled, the sensation growing until the skin felt as if it were burning. She edged her hand into her skirt pocket to try to alleviate the intensifying pain and the tips of her fingers brushed over something smooth.
She wrapped her hand around the object and pulled it from her pocket. The beautiful topaz she’d seen in her cell wall lay against her palm; the bright-blue stone’s unblemished surface felt almost cold against her skin. She had never gone back to the dungeon to retrieve the stone, so how in the world had it gotten here? For some unknown reason, she didn’t want Freyja or Lilyann to see it, so she slid it back into her pocket. This time, however, instead of a burning sensation, it felt more like an icicle. She couldn’t stop the instant shiver.
Freyja glanced at her with a slight frown. “Are you cold? It’s quite warm in here to me. I hope you aren’t coming down with something.”
Alva shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “No, my lady, I am fine. Just a shiver—nothing more.”
Future...the stone’s familiar voice filled her mind.
Do you mean in the future?
Yessss.
“Freyja, can we watch the village and move the time forward—to see if something will happen?”
“Do you think you had a vision?” Lilyann asked, her gaze never leaving the Glass.
“I’m only guessing. I’ve never experienced visions before, so I can’t answer that question. Ican’t help but wonder, though, if I was shown something important.”
Freyja swiped her hand in front of her, and the current scene advanced. The summer greenery turned to golden hues as the leaves and flowers died off. Alva could almost smell the heavy autumn scents of pumpkin and cloves. She missed the fall and the winter meals her father had cooked for her when she was a child, and the cozy feeling of warmth and love enveloping her with each bite. Every year since her father’s death, she honored him and the memory by baking a few of their favorite dishes. Without him, though, they never tasted quite the same.
The next scene showed a blanket of snow covering the buildings and the sides of the paths crisscrossing the village. Even the fountain’s water was frozen in place, as if time had stopped. She watched as winter deepened, the snowfall turning heavier before disappearing as spring returned. As the forest bloomed, one scene stood out.
“Freyja, stop the Glass!” Alva jumped to a stand and moved closer to the fireplace, the warmth from the flames soothing her agitated nerves. At the far end of the village, several Huldra appeared, their heavier-set shapes as familiar to her as were their angry faces. She pointed to them. “Those are my aunts, Iona and Sigrid. Maya is Sigrid’s only daughter, and Isla is Iona’s second child. Her first child died at the hands of a disgruntled knight on Midgard during Medieval times. I don’t believe my aunt ever got over her death and all but abandoned Isla, who grew up with my sisters.”
“Didn’t your mother have three sisters?” Freyja asked.
“She did. The middle sister, Ragna, died under mysterious circumstances, but my mother never allowed anyone to investigate. We don’t even know who killed her, much less why. My mother’s consort, Anders, discovered her body outside the mountain.”
“From what I’ve recently learned about Anders, I would bet my kingdom that he had something to do with her death.”