She remembers. Of course. I probably got the memory from her.
“That’s why I called you,” I say. “I’ve learned a lot because you allowed me to see memories from my past lives.”
Jörð smiles and I feel. . .guilty. But this is the only way.
“I’ve listened, and I’ve watched, and I’ve worked through this again and again. Freya had the right idea.”
Jörð’s eyes widen.
“She wanted to call Veralden Radien, but he never came, no matter how hard she tried. It’s because her plan was never quite good enough.”
He will never come. Staying here, creating children, it weakens creatures like us. The creations need you. They require ongoing cultivation and care. He wanted to grow and become more. It was in his nature, but to do that, a sky god must be ever moving, ever conquering. He was diminished by staying here, and he hated shrinking more than he loved me.
As Odin said.
“But he did love you,” I say simply.
“The heart was created when he and I kissed.” She shrugs. “But as you can see, the heart did not keep him here. It holds no power over him. It’s more a relic for me, to remind me of why I allowed him to bring his children here, into my world, where they harm my children.”
I can’t help thinking of what Freya said to me in the volcano on our first meeting in this lifetime. I suppose she was right. I would skin an innocent child in a heartbeat, if it was the only way to keep my loved ones safe. It doesn’t mean I’d like it or myself when I did it. In fact, just the thought of what I have to do next causes tears to spring to my eyes.
“I love you, you know. In many ways, you’re the perfect mother. You love me entirely, and you care for me always.” I can’t help thinking what my own mother did just a short time past. For me. She did it for me, as an apology, she said.
Jörð smiles.
And I stab her with the blades she blessed. “Harming you is the only thing that’s ever going to be enough to bring him back here, and Veralden Radien has much to answer for.”
Jörð cries out, and I channel her pain and agony into the heart that’s still lodged in my body.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, but cry for me, Ama. Cry as loud and as long as you can.” I twist the blade as tears roll down my cheeks.
And she cries, oh, she cries. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving my own children to suffer because of my love for him.
Every sob and every whimper cuts at my cold, hard heart. I’m an ungrateful child, an unworthy one. How could I harm my own mother? My perfect, loving, devoted mother?
It’s okay, she whispers, even as she suffers. I understand why you’re doing it. She smiles through tears. You alone were smart enough to try, and you love him so very much. Of course you want to find a way for earth to meet sky. She brushes her hand against my cheek. I wanted the same thing, you know. Of course my own darling will want it, too. But there isn’t a path, little one. You were doomed before you met, just as Veralden Radien and I were never able to find common ground, a place to love, a place to live.
Perhaps I’ve gone mad, just like Freya. Perhaps I’m delusional, doing the same thing as others and expecting a different outcome, but I channel every single sob, every single whimper, and every single groan of Jörð’s magical pain into the heart, and then I shout into it myself.
Veralden Radien, you stupid, ugly, greedy, selfish coward, come back here and help your abandoned lover, Jörð, or she will forever curse your ridiculous name.
Nothing happens.
I skinned the baby for nothing. I really am the monster everyone believes me to be. But I wait. Hope’s tenacious, right up until it isn’t. After I give up, that’s when my silent tears turn into terrible sobs. And finally, once it’s clear the terrible bastard isn’t coming, I remove the sword and watch as Jörð slumps to the ground that’s now tacky with her rich, dark, magical blood. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I really thought?—”
And then there’s a bright flash.
Followed by a loud crash.
And the same creature I saw before, a massive, sinuous, pulsating tower of light shaped like the worst beast of a monster steps into the ruined front yard of our Northern Territory home. You called me? How dare you? He scowls, but when he sees Jörð, he gasps and drops down close to the ground, his serpentine dragon-face closing the space between them.
I hate that he wears Azar’s face.
I hate that he came so late, after I had already hurt her so very badly.
What did your horrible child do? Veralden Radien gathers up Jörð’s broken body and he channels magic into it, but every drop he gives simply dissipates through the hole I carved in her chest, like pouring Kool-Aid on sand.
The sky can’t heal the earth. Jörð laughs, and more magic spills out of her as she does. There’s only one thing I can do, now. She smiles, and light floods what’s left of my front porch, after Odin’s attack.
