“You were never to blame,” I add, looking over at Father. “He was.”
And so was I. I should have realized how badly Nils was hurting and done something to help him before he could hurt anyone else.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell Nils. “It’s not too late to stop.”
“Of course it is!” Nils shouts. “I’vekilledpeople, Amund. I can’t stop now.”
I stare at him in disbelief, trying to make sense of his words.
Regardless of his reasons, hehaskilled people. Innocent people.
“I have to bring Uncle Trygve back,” Nils continues. “No matter what. He’s like a father to me, more than Dad ever was. The ritual failed thirty years ago, but I knew I could do it. Even if it meant sacrificing a witch, a hunter, and a berserkr. I’m going to bring Trygve back. He’s going to take Dad’s body. And he’ll be better for me, Amund. Better forus.”
“Nils, please,” I say, taking a step closer.
“It’s already done” is all he says.
The third triangle is finished.
Blinding white light bursts from the symbol, shooting into the ceiling in a constant stream. He’s opened a floodgate, and now spiritual power is pouring into our realm. Electricity crackles in the air like lightning.
Nils stands before the blinding light, reduced to a dark silhouette. For a moment he hesitates. He glances back over his shoulder at me, his expression sad and apologetic and uncertain. Then he takes a step into the symbol’s center.
“No!” I shout, extending my arm.
Light floods between my fingers, but I can’t reach Nils.
Not anymore.
Brightness swallows him. He’s gone somewhere I can’t follow.
A shock wave of energy blasts me.
My back slams into the stone wall, and I crumple.
“Alfoðr Óðinn,” Nils calls out in Old Norse. His voice echoes through the chamber until it sounds like a hundred different voices speaking all at once. “I call upon you, mighty All-father, ruler of the gallows, lord of the slain, god of prisoners! I, Nils Agnarsson, your loyal servant, have made this knot of the slain in honor of you, father of men and gods alike. O, Odin, I implore you, surrender the spirits I now name to the realm of the living once more. Trygve. Einar. Hekla. Jóhanna.” He chants name after name after name, each louder than the last, until finally he screams, “Hear me, Great and Terrible One!”
Glowing spirits rise around us, suspended in midair, dangling like lifeless dolls. They’re too bright to behold, like looking into the sun. Nils stands among them, his entire body lit from within. Even his hair and the wolf pelt glow white.
He lifts his palms and the rest of the spirits rise around him.
They slowly sink into the ceiling, disappearing—
“Nils!” I shout, wincing.
Nils looks down at me with glowing eyes.
He opens his mouth, but bright light bursts from his lips.
“No longer,”Nils says—but the voice doesn’t belong to my brother.
My blood chills. Our uncle was supposed to possess Father. Unless… Father’s warning comes back to me.Spirits cannot be trusted.Was Trygve manipulating my brother this whole time? Did he trick Nils into bringing him back just so he could steal his body?
“Trygve?” I ask slowly.
Nils—Trygve—nods.“As a seer of Egill’s descent, Nils is far more powerful than Agnar or I could ever hope to be. He is the perfect vessel.”
My chest squeezes. “He’s your nephew!”
