Gerrie’s eyes were guarded as she fished something out of her pocket with her free hand. It was a vial of gold liquid with a single drop of red at the bottom.
“Forgive me, Solveig,” she whispered, downing the contents.
“Whatareyoudoing,Gerrie?” Solveig asked, voice shaking. Her mind was blank—she couldn’t come up with a reason, let alone a good one, why Gerrie would be here.
Solveig could do nothing but watch as Gerrie took Thor’s chains in her free hand and squeezed, breaking them off. Once one set of chains was released, Thor’s smile widened and he closed his eyes.
His freed arm began to glow until the other chains shook.
Three betrayals. One ends in death, one in forgiveness, and the other in Hel.
Westley and Solveig stood rooted to the spot as the chains rattled. With a blast of power, his shackles blew off, sending all of them flying backwards. With the snap of the chains, the blood oath Solveig had been bound to, lifted. The leash on her tongue loosened as she hit the stone floor.
Solveig was on her feet immediately, turning to look for Gerrie.
They locked eyes as her shieldmaiden got to her feet. Solveig thought she’d never be whole again, for her heart was breaking, shattering into millions of pieces—obliterated in an instantlike Thor’s chains.
How had she even managed it? The chains were made by the Dwarven of old. Only Fenrir had broken through Dwarven chains.
She made to move towards Gerrie, but her friend, her betrayer, only gave a sad smile before vanishing in a flash of golden light, leaving Solveig in Hel, her soul darkening with despair.
“We have to go,” Westley said, bracing his hands on her shoulders and turning her.
“She . . . She . . .”
“I know, and I’m so sorry, but you can fall apart once we get out of here.”
Solveig took a deep breath and nodded—he was right. While Thor marvelled at his new-found freedom, they moved as slowly as they could towards the entrance of the cave.
Thor’s eyes snapped open, and in a flash of a shadow, he vanished and reappeared in front of them, blocking their way out.
“Not so fast,” he said, stalking forward, each step a calculated move until they were backed against the black pedestal.
“You’re free. What else do you need?” Solveig asked, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out.
“Funny you should ask that, daughter, because what I need is you and more specifically, your magic.”
“Why do you need my magic? You clearly have your own.”
“It’s not as strong as it once was, but there is one small problem.”
Westley took her hand in his. In his palm was a hidden dagger and the meaning was clear. A simple stab wound wouldn’t kill a god, but it may distract him enough for them to get away.
The fact that Thor could move through shadows was disheartening—she’d had no idea how strong he was, nor how far that power would render him. If they had any chance of escape, she’d have to make one stab count.
“Why do you need my lightning?” Solveig asked. “I inherited that from you.” She was trying to distract him but felt Westley stiffen, his eyes widening.
Your light . . .
Is lightning,she finished.
How have I never noticed?
It was part of the curse that held Thor captive. I had to hide what my magic was. The Block helps because it tempers my power, and when it’s weak, it just looks like light.
She watched him think over the times she’d used her magic, and a feral gleam entered his eyes.
You mean to tell me that you are more powerful than what I’ve seen? Fuck, Solveig, you are amazing.
