Astrid Soulweaver's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

Astrid walked the river temple at dusk. She had left Thorolf at the mound with her rite, sealing breaches twice as fast now. But fast was not enough. A rider had reached her that morning. Thorolf was failing at the counter-rite. He could seal breaches he had opened, but new ones kept slipping past him. His anger kept breaking the seal before it held. She needed the power to teach him better. So she came to Isis. The temple stood thick with painted pillars. A priestess met her at the inner door. Hemet-Aset did not smile. She looked at the amulet, then at Astrid's face. "You carry grief you have not set down," she said. "The flame smells of it. Come." Astrid set milk and honey before the altar. The flame leaned toward the offering. Then the air changed. A woman stood where no woman had stood. She was small and plain and her eyes held no bottom. "I know why you came," Isis said. "The man cannot seal the breach. His anger breaks it." "Yes." Astrid's jaw tightened. "Teach me to help him surrender his grief. He has to let it hold." "You cannot teach what you have not done." Isis stepped close. "He hides anger over grief. So do you. You lost a child who never breathed. You have never mourned it. You push it down and ride." Astrid's breath caught. "That isn't why I'm here." "It is the only reason you are here." Isis did not soften. "Face it. Then he can face his." Astrid wanted to argue. Freyja had asked her to give up needing an answer. She had no answer for this. So she breathed into the feeling, the way the völva taught her. She knelt on the stone. She let herself see the small still face. She had never let herself see it. The grief came like water through a broken wall. She did not fight it. She shook and wept and did not stop herself. Hemet-Aset stood silent, watching the flame, saying nothing. The flame burned steady and clean. When it passed, Astrid felt hollow and light. Isis crouched beside her. In the goddess's palm lay a ring. Gold and silver, a winged figure set in green stone. "The Ring of Acceptance," Isis said. "Wear it. When the man's anger rises, hold his hand to it. It will not seal the breach for him. It will help him stop fighting the grief." She closed Astrid's fingers over it. "Surrender is the seal. He will learn it from you now, because you have learned it." Astrid rose. The hollow place in her chest was quiet for the first time in months. She had come for Thorolf. She left with her own loss mourned and the ring to carry home. The road to the mound was long. She was ready to walk it.