The way he emphasizes "real warriors" makes my teeth itch like this pampered prince would know jack shit about actual combat. However, something in his tone suggests he knows more than he's letting on like he's been waiting all night to drop this particular bomb.
"Beasts? What kind of beasts are we talking about here?" Dani asks.
"Oh, you didn't think our realm would be all rainbow bridges and golden halls, did you?" Baldr's lips curl into a knowing smirk, and I fight the urge to introduce his face to the table. "There are... dangers."
"Gee, thanks forthatdetailed intel." Dani fires back, her warm amber eyes sparking. "Any chance you could be a bit more specific about these 'dangers,' or should I just assume everything is trying to kill us?"
"Frost giants, for one," Heimdall interjects. "But they are far from the only threat you may encounter, lightborn." He leans forward, ancient eyes gleaming. "Draugr—the undead—roam the icy wastes of Valhalla's Veil, their hunger for living flesh insatiable. Trolls lurk in the surrounding areas, their strength rivaling even the mightiest warriors. And the great eagles of Hræsvelgr..." He shakes his head, golden armor glinting. "Pray you do not draw the attention of those mammoth, sky-darkening terrors."
Fuck. Sounds like this little field trip is gonna be a real walk in the park—if that park was filled with undead assholes, angry giants, and oversized pigeons from hell.
"The likeness you bear to your sister strikes deep," Odin's voice rumbles, his single eye blazing with ancient pride. "You both possess the same fire in your spirits, that warrior's tongue that fears no god nor giant." His piercing gaze shifts to me, a weight of centuries behind it. "And you, heir of Magni—by the Norns themselves, it is as if my grandson stands before me once more. The same fire burns in your eyes, ready to shake the very foundations of the Seven Worlds."
He rises like a mountain stirring to life, power radiating from him. "Rest well this night, for when Sól's golden chariot breaks the veil of darkness, Baldr, Heimdall, and Bryn shall guide you through the paths of Yggdrasil. The road ahead demands strength that only sleep can restore."
Without another word, he strides from the great hall, each step echoing with authority. Even after his departure, the weight of his presence hangs in the air like the aftermath of a storm.
"Where the hell is Loki now?" I demand, focusing on Frigg.
God knows I'd love to run into that slippery bastard on our quest.
"The Trickster vanished like morning mist after his betrayal," Frigg conveys, ancient wisdom dancing in her summer-sky eyes. "Odin's fury shook the very roots of Yggdrasil itself when he discovered his treachery." Her delicate fingers trace patterns on the ancient table as if reading the threads of fate itself. "With the realms sealedby Elysium's power, Loki's path became hidden even from my sight..." She pauses, knowledge and concern mingling in her ethereal features. "Yet whispers reach us still, carried on winds as old as time—tales of the Serpent's Child weaving his schemes from shadows where even Heimdall's gaze cannot pierce."
Shit.
Lucian
25
"Hold up, time out, flag on the play," I interrupt, my brain doing mental parkour to keep up with this fuckery. "A rift? Like the universe just split its cosmic pants?"
Sable, our resident ray of sunshine, breaks it down for me. "A rift is essentially a break in the barriers between realms," she explains patiently. "If Lilith used the Soul Stone, she could have forced an opening to the Shadow Realm."
I feel my balls trying to climb back into my body at the mere mention of that unholy shithole. "The Shadow Realm? Are you saying Lilith just rang the Devil's doorbell? Because if Moretemis is out for a leisurely stroll, we're all majorly boned."
"We're still trying to piece together the specifics of what orwhoslipped through the rift," Sable says. "But we—the witches feel it. Whatever it is, it's…something we can't ignore."
"Wait, I thought Dani was our only reality-ripper extraordinaire. When did we start handing out interdimensional scissors to the new kids on the block?"
"Well, it appears that Morgan has quite a bit of power," Sable explains, her voice soft and knowing, like a wise old owl with a PhD in witchy bullshit. "And with their half of the stone..."
Emily, perched on her throne of judgment like the queen of snark, looks torn between suiting up for battle and having a full-on meltdown."Should we phone home to E.T.? You know, get our favorite feisty savior back here before shit hits the supernatural fan?"
Sable's eyes widen, her head shaking faster than a drunk bobblehead. "I don't think that's a good idea. Remember how upset Dani was the last time we pulled her away? She's dealing with a lot right now. Letting her focus on her quest might be best while we handle things here."
"Okay, new game plan," Emily declares, her eyes glinting with that 'done with this bullshit' look. "Sable, dig through your spell book and find us a way to text Dani without, you know, actual phones." After Sable's quick nod, Emily turns to us with her patented 'why is this my life' expression. "As for right now, pack up the Scooby Gang. We're heading to ground zero and see if we can stitch reality back together before anything else decides to crash our realm."
Fresh from his stint in Baby Vamp Bootcamp, Damon saunters into the kitchen and plops down in a chair. He's got a blood bag dangling from his hand and a look on his face that screams, "I'm one crisis away from a full-blown emo phase." But hey, credit where it's due—the kid's been handling this whole vampire gig like a champ. As long as he keeps suckling on that crimson Capri Sun, he's... well, not a total liability.
Still, I'm not taking any chances with my angel cake. I tug Seraphina into my lap, putting a good stretch of marble countertop between her and the baby fang.
"What's got you guys all riled up?" Damon asks, with all the enthusiasm of a DMV employee on a Monday morning.
"How's the bloodsucking business treating you, Damon?" Emily asks, her tone softening a fraction when addressing Dani's brother.
"Getting better. The urges aren't as—"
"Yeah, that's fascinating and all," I cut in, turning to Emily and completely steamrolling over Damon's brooding vampire diary moment. "but can we focus on the more pressing issue? Where exactly is this cosmic tear in reality's pants? You got some magical Google Maps that can point us toward certain doom? Because I'm not in the mood to play Marco Polo with a portal to Satan's basement."
