“Hey, you big bully,” I shout. “I killed Freya. Did anyone tell you that yet? That’s how I got the heart. You abandoned her here on earth, stuck in a volcano, keeping the vanir contained for the last few thousand years all alone. If you thought she was nuts when you ditched her, imagine how she felt trapped and abandoned in that volcano.”
Odin freezes, and he turns toward me very slowly. What did you say?
“You heard me. The only way to get the heart, which you were demanding, and to save your son Hyperion, you know, the charred egg that Thunar fried, the one who was going to doom all the dragons, was to carve the heart from Freya’s chest. She kept telling me I was asking stupid questions, because I didn’t remember her at all, so looking back, I guess she was right.” I laugh. “But I knew she had to die so Hyperion and Azar and I could live, and I killed her.”
Odin drops Azar.
“But really, if you think about it, it was all your fault for abandoning her, so if we’re placing blame. . .”
He comes for me.
I duck, roll under the remaining chunks of bed, and retrieve my lost sword from the wall, sending drywall chunks careening across the floor. Then I turn, barely getting my blade tips up before he’s reached me. I pull on the magic that’s pulsing through the heart where it’s lodged in my chest, and I grab both my hilts, and I call like I’ve never called in my life.
Ama! Jörð! Whoever you are, I’ve never needed you like I need you right now.
What are you doing? Azar asks.
Do you love me? I ask. Do you trust me?
Yes to both. He doesn’t waver. He doesn’t question. He doesn’t hesitate. Unlike Freya and Odin, his declaration doesn’t have qualifications or arguments.
Odin opens his jaws and releases a pillar of flame so epic, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like it, and I was thrown into a volcano. Azar slams a red bubble around me, and he spins around until he’s standing just behind me.
But even his red magic’s having trouble defending against all his father’s ancient rage. This flame is so hot and so intense that it’s not red, orange, yellow or even blue.
It’s white.
I scream again, this time as loudly as I possibly can. JÖRÐ!! PLEASE!!
A fountain of gold bursts from the rocks outside and spews toward us, flowing, molten gold, and the white heat that’s all around us turns into a bright, warm, yellow light. The miserable pressure of Odin’s attack finally dissipates. Azar drops his shield. Odin’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen. The fire he was spewing is just gone.
My child.
Jörð’s more beautiful than I can possibly express. She’s bright and warm and everything good. She’s so much more than I saw that day in the pillar of gold, and she’s more than I even knew when I was born as Kiaga. I think sometimes our own capacity impacts our perception of someone else’s greatness. As we grow, so we are able to better understand the titans around us. When I was less, I couldn’t comprehend how much more she was.
She’s the goodness and the rightness in the world. The bounty of the harvest. The first rays of a sunrise. The dew on the nose of a newborn calf. The flicker of a butterfly’s wing. She’s the peace in the center of a storm, and the fire in the heart of a boss mare.
She’s all those things and more.
And she came at my call.
I will always come to your call. You’re my first, my most precious, and my most beloved earth child. Kiaga. Gullveig. Elizabeth. You have many names and also only one. She smiles, and I recall the joy it brought me. Mine.
But hers is not a possessive mine. Even Azar can’t object to her use of that word, because it’s clear that she’s shining on me, not making demands of me with it.
Odin’s smaller, somehow, with her near. Azar looks the same to me, but maybe he always will. All the forces of earth that threaten me are contained in her presence, but it feels temporary, like we’ve hit the pause button that I know can’t last. Clearly the world doesn’t function by the same rules when she’s here, and she can’t walk with me forever anymore.
I am not Kiaga.
She is no longer only my Ama.
You love him. She looks at Azar fondly, but there’s an underlying sorrow, too. He’ll leave you. He’s just like his father.
I shake my head. “He won’t. He’ll never leave me.”
He won’t be able to help himself. It’s who he is. He must be true to his nature. It will hurt you, but I will be here when it does. I will always be here to nurture you in your pain. Her eyes contain the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes. Just as you leapt into pain to spare me.
As Kiaga.
