“Agreed,” Adriel growls.
"At the moment? The last remaining shards of the Bifrost." She hesitates for a second and then sighs. "But that’s not their end goal. They want my obedience.”
"What does that mean?" Adriel’s voice drops two octaves.
Abigail hesitates, glancing at everyone around the table—Tori and Reaper at the far end next to Stephan, Dax and Rissa with their arms looped together, Malachi with his brows still furrowed. She meets everyone’s gazes, forcing them to look at her—to see her.
“Aside from your Valkyries,” she says, her gaze flickering to Malachi and Stephan—the latter of who goes slack-jawed in response—“what I have to say can never leave this room. If it does, we’ll fall, and so will the nine realms. I’ve seen it.”
“You have our silence, Valkyrie,” Dax says without hesitation.
Everyone nods their agreement except Stephan, who still looks battle-shocked by Abigail’s revelations. But if there’s a warrior in this realm worthy of guarding a Valkyrie, it’s him. Their blood runs strong in his veins.
Reaper nudges him. He glances up and notices everyone watching him.
“Agreed,” he rasps. “They’ll have to kill me before I reveal a word, Valkyrie.”
Abigail exhales a breath, her hand fluttering in mine. "There are only two possible outcomes in this war. The paths we take and the decisions we make matter more than you know, but no matter our decisions, they will lead to one or the other. Either we destroy the Forsaken, or they destroy everything.”
This, we already know. Most of it, anyway. I suppose we all hoped that our choices would tip the scales, give us different paths to success. But the Norns weave where they will.
“You asked what they want,” she says, glancing at me. “They want my visions to guide them to success.”
A chill races down my spine, my heart pounding like a drum calling us to war. How many times have her visions guided us to success? How many times have they saved our lives? The thought of that power in their hands is terrifying.
"Are you saying they want to use your visions against us?" Malachi asks.
“No. I’m saying they want to use me against you,” she says, her voice so soft it barely carries. “If you know the future, you can change it. That’s why I guard it so carefully. There are things we can’t afford to change, things that will guarantee their success. And if they succeed, if I give them what they want, they’ll win. There will be no stopping them.” She swallows hard, trembling on my lap as her gaze flickers to Tori and Rissa. “There will be no stopping us.”
“Us?” Tori whispers.
Abigail grips my hand, clinging as if I’m a lifeline. She clings to Adriel the same way. “If I give them what they want, they gain a foothold on my soul. I fall to the Dark.” Her voice shakes. “And if I fall, I take the Valkyrie with me. They won’t destroy the realms. We’ll do it for them. That’s what I’ve seen. That’s how they win.”
Faen.
They aren’t after the portal, at least not entirely. They’re after the power of the Valkyrie...and they intend to use my mate to get it.
"Nei," I growl, fear and rage warring for dominion. "That will never happen."
"It could," Abigail says softly, turning to place her palm against my cheek. "I've seen it, Damrion. If I ever tell them what I’ve seen, even a piece of it, they win." Tears well in her eyes. “We’ll deliver every single soul right into their hands, and I’ll be the one who made it happen. I’ll kill us all.” She shivers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “That’s what they want from me. To claim my soul and turn me into a monster.”
Adriel has his arms around her in an instant, offering her his strength. "Nei, Valkyrie,” he breathes. “We will not allow that to happen. Your soul is safe with us." His voice is fierce, but I feel the fear he’s desperately trying to hide from her.
The same fear flows through me. Abigail, Rissa, and Tori are the three most powerful Valkyrie we’ve ever seen. We don’t yet know what the other two are capable of doing. But we do know that, together, they’re the most powerful weapon the realms have ever seen. In the hands of the Forsaken, that weapon would be catastrophic.
We wondered what task was before Abigail that required two warriors tied to her soul to guard it. Now, we know. If she falls, the entire fucking universe falls. She and her sisters will become the Dark’s own personal öndnýsa—Soulseekers. And instead of ferrying souls for the Light as Valkyrie have always done, they’ll ferry them straight to their destruction.
And now, there's a Forsaken who doesn't burn. One who says he can sever the bond between mates—the same bond that protects her soul. She's never been in more danger than she is now. And Gods help me, but I don't know how to protect her.
She rests her head against Adriel’s. He brushes the tears from her cheek with a shaking hand. I hold them both, praying to any God still listening for the strength to protect her—not because our lives depend on it, but because hers does. She’s too pure, too perfect to ever fall to the Dark. We can’t allow it. For her sake, we cannot.
Somehow, we have to find a way to ensure she does not fall.
Abigail pulls back after a moment, slowly putting herself back together. She takes a breath before turning to face everyone else at the table. Dax has Rissa clutched in his arms. Reaper looks as if he’s considering fleeing with Tori. Malachi and Stephan both look sick.
"There's something else," she says, exhaustion whispering in through her though she tries to hide it. Adriel hears it, too, and glances at me. I give him a nod. As soon as we’re finished here, she’s going to rest.
“What is it, Valkyrie?” Malachi asks.
"We need to prepare for war because the Forsaken have an army,” she says. “What we've faced is nothing compared to what's coming." Her gaze lands on everyone before coming back to me. “I don’t know when they’re coming, but they are coming.”
The room falls silent, the gravity of her statement settling over us. Anticipation thrums through every warrior at the table, coiling like a spring. We haven’t felt anything like it in three hundred years, but it’s so familiar I nearly smile.
War.
This is something we know. Something we were born for. Our blood, sweat, and tears soak more battlefields than the Forsaken can even comprehend. If they think we’ll die easy, they’re wrong.
“Ýmirs frosteistna, let them come,” Malachi growls, gently pounding a fist on the table. “They’ll die where they stand.”
Chapter Twelve
Adriel
“Take the day,” Damrion suggests as everyone lingers in the kitchen, trying to process everything Abigail has told us. “We’ll regroup tomorrow to start planning our defenses.”
Malachi shoots out of the room like a meteor, off to check on his Valkyrie. Stephan filters out next, his brows furrowed as he glances back at Abigail. I think he may have more to process than anyone. A human bound to a Valkyrie. It’s been a long time.
Dax and Rissa go next, followed by Tori and Reaper. The silence they leave behind is deafening. I feel Abigail’s worry pressing down on us, threatening to crush us. She’s so afraid that she’ll fall.
