My jaw clenches at Baldr's casual dismissal of Thor's sacrifice—who gave everything to save these realms, and this jerk acts like it meant nothing.
"My apologies," Baldr mutters, though his tone suggests he's anything but sorry.
"Before Ragnarök," Heimdall's voice echoes with the weight of millennia, "Zephyria was one vast kingdom. The great war tore the realm asunder, splitting the land into the floating islands you see today, scattered across the endless sky."
I take in this revelation, imagining how this place must have looked before—one big celestial continent, now broken into these drifting pieces of sacred ground. Even the destruction of their realm couldn't break their connection to these holy sites.
I study the towering statue, feeling its significance. This god sacrificed everything to protect his realm—no wonder they still honor him with such reverence. Even in stone, his presence commands respect.
Bryn pauses before a stunningly beautiful statue, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "And here's Freya—goddess of love, beauty, and war. Don't let that lovely face fool you. She could split a man's skull as easily as she could break his heart. My kind of woman."
As we approach the altar, Bryn's expression grows more serious. "This is where the most sacred rites were performed, where warriors swore their final oaths before battle." She runs her fingers along the ancient runes. "The power here is older than time itself. Can you feel it? The way it makes your blood sing and your skin tingle? That's the old magic recognizing its own."
Bryn turns to face us, her warrior's stance softening slightly. "Mind your step around here, sister. The gods may be gone, but their power lingers. And they do so love to test the mettle of those who enter their domain."
"Right," Baldr interrupts. "Time to discuss the rather... interesting challenges ahead. The gods do so love their tests of worthiness."
"I'm sorry—their what now?" I spin around to face him, my heart doing a nervous little tap dance in my chest. "Because if you're about to tell me we need to solve some divine riddles or fight a kraken, I'd like to submit my formal resignation as savior."
A deep, rich chuckle rumbles from Rhyland beside me, the sound warming me despite the arctic chill.
Just thinking about Aquaria and all those mind-bending riddles, not to mention the delightful encounter with the resident Kraken in that cave, already gives me PTSD flashbacks.
"The path to the Elemental Nexus demands more than just courage," Baldr's continues, unfazed by my rising panic. "The mountains here hold the essence of one Einherjar—the first of two chosen by Zephyria to unlock the Elemental Nexus."
"Hold up—what's an Einherjar?" I raise my hand like I'm back in science class, trying to keep up with this new supernatural curveball.
"A guardian," Rhyland answers before Baldr can open his mouth. "A warrior chosen by the gods."
I blink at him for a moment before the implications sink in. "So you're telling me we have to throw down with some legendary ghost warrior to steal their magical essence? What is this—Viking Fight Club meets Ghostbusters?"
Baldr's lips twitch with what might be amusement—or maybe he's just enjoying watching me process this madness. "Defeat the Einherjar in honorable combat, and their essence becomes yours. Only then will you begin unlocking the Elemental Nexus path."
I glance at Rhyland, hoping for some reassurance, but even he can't quite hide the concern in those steely blue eyes. Great. When the thousand-year-old Viking vampire looks worried, you know you're in for a world of trouble.
"Listen here, sister," Bryn's eyes flash with fierce pride as she grips my shoulder. "You've already gone toe-to-toe with so much and lived to tell the tale. These trials?" She snorts, her obsidian wings flexing. "They're just another story for the skalds to sing about over their mead."
Her grip tightens a warrior's strength in her fingers. "We'll guard your backs as much as we can. But..." she glances around the hall with dangerous amusement, "try not to take your sweet time about it. These lands crawl with Draugr and frost giants—ugly bastards with even uglier temperaments. And trust me, their version of a welcome feast usually ends with someone's head on a pike."
She cocks an eyebrow, her stance pure battle-ready Valkyrie despite her smirk. "Now go make this ancient Einherjar your bitch. The gods might be old, but they've never faced anyone quite like you, sister. Give them hell."
My heart swells with fierce affection for my sister. Gods, her warrior spirit and take-no-prisoners attitude is exactly the kick in the ass I need right now.
"Wait—you mentioned two," I narrow my eyes at Baldr. "Where's the second one hiding?"
Baldr busies himself with his pack, clearly avoiding my gaze. "Let's focus on surviving the first Einherjar before we worry about the second, Lightborn." His tone makes it clear that's all I'm getting out of him right now.
I spot Erik lurking in his signature shadowy corner, while scanning the room with predatory focus. "Watch over my sister." I make it a command, not a request.
"Ha!" Bryn's laugh echoes through the chamber. "Save your worry for the silver-haired lightweight over there, sister. The mighty vampire who can't even dismount a horse without falling on his ass. Some legendary warrior." She smirks, crossing her arms. "I've seen baby Valkyries handle their mead better."
Erik's silver eyes narrow dangerously at Bryn, his glare cold enough to freeze Helheim itself. But I swear I catch the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth before he transforms his features into their usual stoic mask.
"We make camp here," Bryn announces with a Valkyrie's authority. "I'll take the first watch. When dawn breaks, we track down this Einherjar."
"May the Norns guide your path, Lightborn," Heimdall adds. His bright green eyes shift to Rhyland, and something ancient passes between them. "And you, Godborn. Remember who you are."
Erik
