I had carved those marks myself, shaky hands and all, then given it to Odin. He tied it to a piece of old rope and wore it proudly like armor.
My lips trembled. My hands shook.
“This is Odin’s,” I whispered.
August’s voice softened. “Are you sure?”
My tears answered before I did. I turned toward him, lips quivering, breath hitching in my chest as grief and something dangerously close tohopecracked me open.
“Iknowit is. My bones know it. My soul knows it.” I was full-on crying now. “This is Odin’s.”
I faced the angel again and reached into the light, pressing my hand to his chest, then trailing up to his face.
“Turn off your light,” I said. “I want to see you.”
“My light is a part of me,” he replied, voice hard with confusion. “Give me my coin.”
“That’syourcoin?” I asked, smiling through the tears. “I made this for Odin. You wouldn’t have given it up—not even in death.”
My fingers brushed his jaw.
There was hair there. A beard. He was taller than me now, broader. The idea of my scrawny, scrappy Odin growing into this—thisangel—was almost too much to believe.
Unless…
Unless he’d been chosen. Unless death hadn’t ended him—it hadevolvedhim.
My heart squeezed. Three angels had come.
Three lights. Three souls lost.
My voice cracked as I stepped around him to look toward the others.
“Is this Finn and Cloud?”
“That’s not our names,” the one on the left said—but his voice faltered, like he wasn’t sure.
Three lights pulsed, brightening and dimming as I rushed to hug each of them.
“Do they lose their memories when they go to Heaven?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at August. He followed quietly, but every time I looked back, he was smiling—shaking his head like I was something wild and lovely he couldn’t make sense of.
“It would make sense,” August replied. “Look how boring they’ve gotten. And tall, too.”
“So, you think it’s them?” I asked, half-laughing through the lump in my throat.
“Of course, it’s them. They might not remember, but they haven’t left since you touched them.” He stepped into the light and placed a hand on the chest of the one I believed was Odin. “You recognize family, don’t you, Odin?”
“We’re not who you think we are,” Odin replied, pulling back. “We’ve risked enough. It’s time to go.”
I wiped my eyes and gave them space. “Then go. If you have to.” I held out the coin. “Do you want it back?”
Odin hesitated—then stepped forward and took it from my hand. “Yes. It belongs to me.”
“I’m glad I got to see you all again,” I whispered. “Even if you don’t remember me, I’m thankful you stayed together.”
They left in silence, and I waited until the last light vanished before falling apart.
August caught me as I crumpled, pulling me into his chest.
