Gullfax's deep chuckle resonates in my head."That, Little Light, is for you two to figure out."His mental voice carries that infuriating tone of someone who knows they've won the argument but is too dignified to gloat openly.
I leave it at that, though the frustration still simmers beneath my skin. I'm nowhere near ready to just accept whatever mysterious bullshit is happening with Erik, regardless of how many wise horse proverbs get thrown my way.
Am I being a petty, stubborn brat about this? Absolutely.
Do I have even the slightest inclination to stop? Not a chance in hell.
Some hills are worth dying on, and "no secrets between mates" is definitely one of them.
Gullfax leads me deeper into Ásgard's hidden wonders, past the Valley of Windborne Memories and through a grove of trees with bark like polished silver. The path winds upward, following the river's course until the sound of rushing water grows from whisper to roar.
We emerge onto a ledge overlooking a spectacular sight—a mammoth waterfall that seems to pour directly from the sky itself. The cascade tumbles hundreds of feet, creating a perpetual rainbow in the mist where sunlight strikes water. At the base, the pool shimmers with colors that shouldn't exist in nature—deep azures fading to violets and golds that pulse with their own inner light.
"The Falls of Fafnir.Named for the dragon who once guarded these waters."
A freaking water dragon??
As if summoned by his words, a small creature emerges from the pool's edge, shaking droplets from its fur. At first glance, it resembles an otter with sleek, dark fur—until it unfurls tiny, iridescent dragon wings from its back and gives them a delicate flutter. Its eyes gleam with intelligence, whiskers twitching as it studies us curiously.
"A fjörniskratti,"Gullfax explains as the creature waddles closer, its webbed paws leaving damp prints on the stone."Spirit guardians of sacred waters. They are distant cousins to dragons, though they prefer fish to maidens and treasure."
Thefjörniskratti chirps, a sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze, and tilts its head at me. Its wings—barely the span of my hand—shimmer with all the colors of the waterfall as they catch the light.
"They are rare even in Ásgard,"Gullfax continues."To see one is considered a blessing... or a warning, depending on their mood."
The little creature seems to consider me for a moment before it stands on its hind legs, paws pressed together as if in prayer. Then, with another musical chirp, it produces a single scale from its chest—a tiny disc that gleams like mother-of-pearl in the sunlight.
"Well,"Gullfax sounds genuinely surprised."It seems you've made a friend."
I stand frozen, afraid that even breathing might scare away this impossible creature. The fjörniskratti chirps again, more insistently this time, tiny paw still extended with its offering.
"Is it... giving me a gift?" I whisper, not taking my eyes off the miniature dragon-otter.
"So it would seem,"Gullfax replies, sounding impressed despite himself."Their scales are powerful conduits for water and air magic. They rarely part with them willingly."
With trembling fingers, I kneel and extend my palm. The fjörniskratti waddles forward with surprising dignity, places the iridescent scale in my hand, then presses its cool, damp nose against my wrist. A tingling sensation races up my arm—like static electricity but somehow... wetter?
"Holy shit," I breathe as the scale seems to melt into my skin, leaving behind a shimmering mark like a tattoo of overlapping waves. "Did that just—"
"Bind itself to you? Yes."Gullfax sounds genuinely startled."That is... unprecedented."
The fjörniskratti looks extraordinarily pleased with itself. It chirps once more before doing what can only be described as a happy dance—spinning in circles, wings fluttering, webbed feet slapping against the stone.
"I don't understand," I say, staring at the mark on my palm. "What does this mean?"
Before Gullfax can answer, more ripples disturb the pool's surface. To my absolute astonishment, dozens of tiny heads emerge—more fjörniskratti, each one slightly different in coloring but all sporting the same adorable whiskers and miniature dragon wings.
They form a semicircle at the water's edge, watching me with intelligent eyes that seem to contain galaxies. Then, as if responding to some unseen signal, they begin to sing.
The sound defies description—higher than wind chimes, more melodic than birdsong, with harmonies that seem to resonate directly with my bones. The waterfall's roar softens, as if even it wants to listen.
"Oh my god," I whisper, tears springing to my eyes though I can't explain why. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."
"The Song of Blessing,"Gullfax murmurs, his usual snark completely absent."They recognize you, Lightborn. Not just as the savior of prophecy, but as something more."
"Something more?" My voice cracks as the fjörniskratti's song continues to wrap around me like a warm embrace. "What do you mean?"
Gullfax moves closer."The fjörniskratti are the keepers of what lies between—the guardians of transition and transformation. Their blessing is rare, given only to those who can bridge worlds."
