I watch, mesmerized, as one of the spheres drifts closer. Inside, I see a warrior battling what appears to be living wind, her form flickering between solid and transparent. Another shows someone trying to catch lightning with their bare hands.
"Past attempts,"Gullfax explains."Some succeeded. But most..."He trails off meaningfully.
"Let me guess—they became part of the permanent decoration?"
"Indeed. Though I must say, being transformed into an eternal wind chime is one of the more creative outcomes I've witnessed."
I swallow hard. "And you're showing me this because...?"
"Because, Lightborn, sometimes the best way to face what lies ahead is to understand what lies behind."A sphere floats between us, showing a familiar face—Thor, in his prime, wielding the Zephyrite stone."And because you'll need every advantage you can get."
The memory sphere bursts suddenly, showering us with tiny motes of light that dance around me like curious fireflies before sinking into my skin. Knowledge floods my mind—fragments of ancient wisdom about air magic, the stone's true nature, the proper way to harness wind itself.
"Did you just—"
"Give you a head start? Perhaps."Gullfax's eyes twinkle with ancient mischief."Though if anyone asks, I merely took you on a scenic tour."
The motes of light continue to dance around me, each one sinking in with a tiny spark of insight. It's like downloading centuries of knowledge straight into my brain, except instead of a progress bar, I get sparkly magical fireflies.
"So these memories," I gesture at the floating spheres, trying to process the information download happening in my head, "they're like a supernatural cheat sheet?"
Gullfax snorts, managing to make the sound both elegant and judgy. "More like echoes of those who came before. Each attempt, each failure, each rare success left its mark on the winds of Ásgard."Another sphere drifts close, this one showing a woman wielding what looks like solid air as a weapon."The winds remember, Lightborn. They remember everything."
"Including how not to become a wind chime?" I ask hopefully.
"Among other things."He steps closer to a particularly large sphere, his reflection rippling across its surface."Watch this one carefully."
The memory inside springs to life, showing a warrior facing what appears to be a tornado made of pure light. But instead of fighting it directly, she... dances? Her movements flow like water, each step precisely placed, each gesture working with the wind rather than against it.
"She succeeded," I realize, watching her merge with the tornado instead of being torn apart by it.
"Indeed. She understood what most failed to grasp—that air cannot be conquered, only persuaded."His ancient eyes fix on me."Much like a certain stubborn Viking of yours."
I feel my cheeks heat. "Are we still doing the horse therapy session?"
"Consider it a bonus to your education."Another sphere bursts, its knowledge sinking into my skin."Though I notice you're not denying the comparison."
I sigh dramatically. "Fine. Yes. Rhyland is exactly like trying to conquer air—impossible, frustrating, and likely to blow up in your face if you push too hard." I kick at a tuft of grass. "But that's the problem. He's keeping something from me about Erik, and every time I try to get a straight answer, he goes all 'protective alpha male' on me. Like I can't handle whatever's going on."
I throw my handsup. "I mean, come on! I've faced shadow demons, survived death, discovered I'm basically angel royalty, and he thinks I need to be sheltered from whatever's happening with Erik? It's insulting. And worse—" my voice drops, "it scares me. Because whatever's bad enough that Rhyland thinks he needs to protect me from it... must be really, really bad."
Gullfax regards me with those ancient eyes that have seen centuries of drama unfold. He exhales softly, creating a small breeze that stirs the memory spheres around us.
"Young Lightborn, I have carried warriors into battle since before your kind built their first cities. I have seen the rise and fall of gods. And in all that time, one truth remains constant—those who carry great power often carry greater burdens."His voice deepens with wisdom."Rhyland is much like his father, Magni. The apple didn't fall far from that particular tree.
A memory sphere drifts between us, showing a towering figure with lightning crackling around his fists. In the vision, Magni stands before Thor's throne, his stance defiant as he argues passionately. Though the sphere carries no sound, his intent is clear from his protective posture and fierce expression—he's demanding the right to handle some danger alone, refusing to share the burden even with his father.
"Like father, like son.Rhyland believes protection means bearing burdens alone, carrying secrets like stones in his pockets until they weigh him down into the earth."
Gullfax nudges me gently with his nose."But consider this, Lightborn—perhaps what troubles Erik is not Rhyland's secret to share. Perhaps he guards another's confidence as fiercely as he guards your heart."
He gestures toward another memory sphere, this one showing two warriors standing back-to-back against a horde of enemies."Brotherhood among immortals is a bond forged over centuries. What you see as secretive may simply be loyalty to promises made long before you drew breath.
"The question isn't whether you can handle the truth,"he continues, wisdom tempering his usual snark."The question is whether you trust him enough to let him keep his word to another, even when it frustrates you."
I roll my eyes, but Gullfax's words hit their mark. Damn mystical horse making actual sense. Still, the frustration simmers under my skin like an itch I can't scratch.
"Fine. I get it. Brotherhood, loyalty, promises made in the bro-code or whatever." I kick at a pebble, watching it skitter across the perfect grass. "But it still chaps my ass that I'm apparently not worthy of being included in their little supernatural secret society. I mean, what happened to 'mates don't keep secrets from each other'? Or does that only apply when it's convenient?"
