“Tell me, do you love this world?”
The question caught Vhalla off-guard. “Of course I do.”
“Of course,” the woman repeated. “You don’t realize how much you say that. Of course you will do this, of course you will go there, of course you will oblige the demands made upon you.”
The many times Vhalla had said those words rushed through her mind. She didn’t say it that often, did she? Surely no more often than anyone else.
“Do you know why?” Strands of hair slipped over the woman’s shoulder as she tilted her head to the side quizzically. The question was clearly rhetorical as she continued, “Because it is what you were made for. Those things were what you were meant to do. Long before you ever met your prince or arrived at his castle, red strands of fate pulled you from the East, setting it all into motion.”
“You speak of the Mother.”
“If that is the name you choose.” The woman smiled. “You are trapped in a vortex. Time and again, you will repeat your fate dutifully. If we cannot change fate itself and save our world.”
The woman stepped away from the case. Barefoot, she didn’t make a sound as she floated over to Vhalla. Closer now, Vhalla could no longer deny the red glint to Vi’s eyes.
“Let me see you,” she whispered.
Vhalla was transfixed, helpless to do anything more than let the woman lower her hood. The woman’s face held an odd sort of longing tinted with sorrow.
“You are younger than I expected, and so much weight on your shoulders, future Empress.”
“I will be the Empress?” Vhalla jumped at the first definitive thing she’d heard in the Firebearer’s words.
“You will be.” The woman stepped away. “I told you then, you would find what you sought.”
“But I never sought—”
“You sought him,” the woman interrupted with a sudden intensity. “You knew who he was and what his title meant. You knew, even if you didn’t admit it to yourself; you knew what being with him would lead to. And now you have him.”
“I know all this already.” Vhalla was desperate for her to return to whatever comments she had on the future.
“Tell me, was the sacrifice worth it?” The woman once more folded her hands and leaned against the counter.
“Sacrifice?” Vhalla could think of a good many sacrifices, but she wasn’t about to let them roll off her tongue freely.
“The sacrifice of this world.”
“No, I didn’t—”
“For him, you hesitated in eradicating your magic when it was first born. For his defense, for his Empire, you took the axe, the last of the crystal weapons, and returned it to its birthplace. When you could have remained hidden, you sought answers to his truths. You cast aside the night’s shroud and dreams of home to stand on a sunlit stage.”
“No . . .” Vhalla’s heart was beginning to race. “No, I-I thought I was doing the right thing. Not just for him, but for everyone. I didn’t know. You should have told me all this before.”
“I did.” The ghost of a smile haunted the woman’s cheeks.
“No, yes, no!” Vhalla shook her head in frustration.
“Not in so many words,” Vi relented. “But the language of the Gods is hard to translate into mortal tongue. I did my best for you.”
“If I had known—”
“You wouldn’t have done anything differently.” Now there was a heavy sorrow in the woman’s voice. “I know that now. I have seen the vortex of fate clearly.”
“That’s not true,” Vhalla insisted.
The woman paused and passed judgment on Vhalla for a handful of minutes. “You were drawn by a man who ran the Black Tower, just as Aldrik was. You were taken to the caverns, just as he was. You were used to open a gate, just as he was. You were raised without a mother, just as he was. Pushed to battle, just as he was.
“In many ways, just as his father was before him.”
