Astrid Soulweaver's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The dead road was gray dust under a sky with no sun. Astrid walked it with the grief Hjördís had opened still burning in her chest. Her little wolf padded close, ears flat. The road wound past shapes that stood too still to be living. Astrid kept her eyes forward. She knew these shapes. They were her, before. Lifetimes stacked like stones. One of them stepped into the path. The figure wore Astrid's own face, older, her black and red hair streaked with frost. The dead Astrid did not move aside. "You cannot pass until you answer for me," she said. "I was the one he buried in the snow. He screamed your name over my body. My name. Answer for how it ended." Astrid's jaw clenched. The old habit. She wanted a clean reason, a reason that made the burial not her fault. Freyja's words came back to her. Leave behind the need to have an answer for everything. She had no answer. She had only the truth. "I don't know why it ended," Astrid said. Her voice shook. "I loved him and then I was gone. I left him holding nothing. I'm sorry. I can't fix what I did to him that life." The dead Astrid watched her. Then she stepped back off the road. "That is the first honest thing any of us has said to him," she whispered, and faded into the gray. The little wolf pressed against Astrid's leg. Astrid breathed, in and out, the way she had been taught. The road was clear. At its end stood the temple. Dark stone, carved skulls above the door, green fire burning on one side and red on the other. The sight stole Astrid's breath. She had reached Hel. A small figure waited at the threshold. Pale hair, horns curving from her brow, blue eyes that did not blink. She wore black robes trimmed with fur. This was the high priestess who tended the gate between living and dead. She had walked here once herself and traded her own death to Hel for the post. "You walked the road grieving," the priestess said. "Good. Most who try bring false tears." She studied Astrid. "You want something from the Queen." "I want to break a curse," Astrid said. "Lovers torn apart every life. I want it to stop." The priestess did not soften. "You chose a bad hour. A man forced three souls back across this threshold. Hel holds me answerable. The gate is watched now." She turned toward the dark door. "But grief like yours is rare. I will take you in. Understand the cost. Hel does not give without taking." Astrid stepped forward. She had walked past her own dead to get here. She would not turn back for a cost not yet named. "I understand," she said, and followed the priestess inside.