“The gods may not lie, Father, but people do,” North insisted.
“We have been praying for a way to unite our realms,” Alvida said calmly. “This is an answer to those prayers.”
North shook her head. “Does it really seem fair to subject Westley to a short life with his mate? The girl may be young with many mortal yearsleft, but perhaps only sixty at best. How could the gods make him suffer that way? And after waiting so long.”
“He will suffer for the fate of his people, as he was born to do.”
Solveig growled at King Erik’s pronouncement. She could not let this go on.
“You would force your son into a bond he does not choose?” Solveig asked bluntly. The king and queen of Idavoll reluctantly turned towards her.
“The gods have chosen for him. That is enough for us,” the king replied.
“You may be inclined to think that way, King Erik. However, this girl is claiming the gods have named Westley the heir of Asgard as well,” Koa reminded him calmly.
“Your point, Your Majesty?” Erik asked through gritted teeth.
“We do not accept this information blindly. We will test the legitimacy of these claims,” Aelfsi said, her voice commanding. Erik had no choice but to stand down on Asgardian soil.
Solveig watched the interaction between monarchs, waiting for her order from the queens. The second Koa made eye contact with her, she launched forward and gripped the mortal girl by the throat. Solveig’s magic purred in her veins, ready to dole out violence.
Protect, protect, protect. It urged her on as she squeezed, cutting off the mortal’s air supply. Dayana tried to fight back, but she was no match for Solveig.
Her magic wove into the girl, easily finding her soul. As she expected, it was blanketed in darkness. Magic was present, but it was not the girl’s.
Solveig reached further, testing out the feel of the shadows, a vague sense of familiarity tugging at her. With more prodding of the darkness, the blood drained from her face at what she found.
The shadows that held this girl’s soul hostage were the same that bound the realms’ magic.
She delved deeper, the magic rising to meet Solveig’s beckoning. Only vaguely aware of gasps and shrieks in the hall, her focus stayed on the mortal. The shadows were so intricately woven into her soul that if she banished them, the girl would not survive.
A dark part of her delighted at the thought.
“There is magic that is not her own,” Solveig said, closing her eyes, relishing in the darkness.
“What are you talking about?” The question came from Hugo.
She whispered to the darkness and its answering call had the girl’s eyes flying open.
Wisps of grey and black swirled in them, and all at once, the demure girl, the innocent rose, wilted before their very eyes.
In her place sat a creature.
A cruel laugh passed through its lips, sending shivers down Solveig’s spine.
“You think you can best me, daughter of mysticism, but I know your soul. You answer to the night, to the shadows, and someday soon, I will see the light fade from your eyes.”
The creature laughed until Solveig leashed the shadows and held tight.
“Dayana!” Her mother knelt beside them, unsure of where to put her hands.
“Your daughter is already gone,” Solveig said, voice barely above a whisper. “There is no bringing her back.” She met Nina’s watery stare. Such terrible grief morphed the woman’s face.
“Liar!” Hugo shouted.
Solveig gripped the shadows as they struggled to break free.
“Look at your daughter,” Koa said gently as Nina sobbed. “Her body is being used, likely has been for a while. You said when she was sixteen she started having visions?”
