My attacker hacked a wolfish complaint and leapt from my back. I rolled over, ignoring my screaming flesh and the warm blood oozing from my wounds. I would heal. My fire always renewed me. Slowly, I stood, spread wide my stance, and centered my weight on the balls of my feet.

Two or three strides away, Skoll crouched low, waiting, watching as greasy mists swirled around us like an ensemble of dancing ghosts. Twisted scar tissue disfigured his muzzle, revealing evidence of the damage I had inflicted during our fight in the desert. His ruddy fur stood in a rigid line down his back. He crouched low, tail flicking, ears lying flat against his head.

There stood my greatest adversary—not Helen Locke, not a fire sword, not Val, Grim, or Embla. From the beginning, it was the wolf, and I cursed myself again for having forgotten that so many times over the past months. Perhaps everything that happened since Mani’s death could have been avoided if I had never taken my focus off finding and killing Skoll. If I had discarded my need for vengeance and taken him down that night at Oneida Lake instead of his brother, we could have all avoided so much pain, torment, and loss.

But Thorin had said the Aesir were beholden to fate, and all evidence suggested the truth of his claim. Skoll and I were here now because this was the way it was supposed to be. I had finally become the woman, the warrior, who could defeat the beast, and I vowed I wouldn’t leave this beach until Skoll was dead.

I sneered at my adversary. “You’ve tasted my fire three times. Haven’t you had enough yet?” I felt like Atreyu taunting Gmork, the wolf who was the great Nothing’s agent. If Helen had her way, that never-ending story would come true. She’d take our world and leave us with destruction and chaos.

Skoll snarled, and his lips rippled over his long, horrible teeth. I laughed at him. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.” I waved him forward. “Come for me. Let’s end this already.”

Perhaps Skoll was as fed up with Helen’s plots and schemes as I was. He wasted no more time on posturing. He threw himself forward, and I charged to meet him, two steam engines hurtling forward on the same track, head-on collision imminent. Fatalities guaranteed.

As he lunged and closed the inches between us, I raised my flames to full capacity and welcomed Skoll into my embrace. I crumpled under his weight, and we crashed to the ground, rolling as his fangs sank into my shoulder. His claws raked my belly, shredding flesh. Pain flashed like lightning before my eyes.

The fire will heal, I chanted to myself—no fancy fighting moves, no Krav Maga or Valkyrie fighting techniques needed. I gritted my teeth and locked my arms around him. Just hold on. Just hold on.

Skoll wriggled like a monstrous eel, slipping from my grasp. My body screamed with the pain of his bites and scratches, and my arms shook from the effort of restraining him. He was muscle and might and power, and I was only a woman. But I wasn’t helpless.

I reached to the depths of my powers. The farther I sank into the flames, the more the goddess took over, and the less I felt Skoll tearing me, taking me apart bit by bit. I have to hold out longer than he does...

Whose motivation was greatest? Skoll had hatred and revenge. I had those things too, but they were nothing more than a small, dark closet in a fortress I had built from love, hope, devotion, and second chances. Most of all, second chances. Skoll’s claws and teeth would never be enough to take that away from me.

My conscious self drifted away as the goddess rose to power inside me, but a scream brought me rocketing back, crashing hard into reality. Every cut and gash and bleeding place inside me roared. Over the protests of my own body, I heard my name as a desperate cry.

“Solina!” Skyla screamed at me with a raw and distressed voice. “Don’t let go. Finish him!”

Still wrapped in a massive Skoll bear hug, I centered what was left of my fire in my hands, arms, chest, belly, legs. I shut out the agony and pain and held on. Skoll’s panting came hotter and faster in my ear, each breath underscored by a high-pitched whine. The acrid stink of burning fur invaded my nose and mouth, and his struggles grew anxious, frantic.

“Go on, you bastard,” I snarled. “Your brother’s spirit is out there somewhere waiting for you. Go find him. Leave Helen and all this bullshit behind. It’s not worth it. I am not worth it.”

Skoll uttered a long, ear-shattering howl that drowned out everything else: my heartbeat, my shuddering breath, the ocean. Then with a strangled gasp, he kicked, once, twice, and fell silent, limp, and still.

Utterly still.

My flames guttered and died, leaving me chilled to the bone and empty. Oh, so empty. I was spent, exhausted, and lacked the energy to do anything more than sprawl beneath the dead wolf and breathe moist, salty sea air that tasted so very good because it meant I was still here. It meant I hadn’t lost myself to the starlight.

It meant I had won.

Somewhere in the depths of my mind, my body shrieked at me. The wounds Skoll inflicted had not healed. Perhaps I had run out of fire before my flesh had mended, but I was too tired, too anesthetized on adrenaline, to appreciate or acknowledge the extent of my injuries.

The clatter of shifting rocks and bitter, sharp voices drew my attention to a spot closer to the water’s edge. A gust of wind blew the fog aside momentarily, revealing Grim, who was on his feet again but pale, shaky and blood soaked. He swung his fiery blade at a little redheaded sprite, Siobhan, while Skyla and Embla struck and lunged and yelled at each other.

Grim stumbled, and the sword guttered. Siobhan danced around the flames like a pixie, dodging in and out and striking when she could with her own small sword. The mists drifted, concealing the fight again, but the fog threw their voices at me and amplified their words.

“Why?” Skyla demanded. “Why are you doing this, Embla?”

“To recreate the world,” Embla said. “You know that.”

“But Helen—”

“Helen Locke was a pawn. She was desperate and angry, like all the Aesir. So easy to manipulate.”

“You hunted and fought her golems with us at Amchitka,” Skyla said.

“It’s a nasty game we played, but necessary. A magician’s trick to distract the audience.”

“Helen will be dead soon if she isn’t already,” Grim said, but his voice was hoarse and full of pain. Gungir may not have killed him, but it had apparently inflicted a grievous wound. The fog opened and showed Siobhan rolling away from a spew of Surtalogi’s fire. The petite Valkyrie fought from a stance near the waves, and she used the water to her advantage. When she gained her footing again, she hurled a blade at him, but Grim swung, and the sword’s flames shielded him.

“You’re right.” Embla huffed for breath. She and Skyla faced each other near the water’s edge. Waves lapped at their feet. Sand coated their legs like armor. Neither held a weapon other than her own cunning and fierceness. “She’s another necessary sacrifice. Helen will surrender everything for a chance to reclaim Baldur”—she paused and panted—“just like she always does. It’s ingrained in her. The ancients... abide in their patterns. They cannot break free. It’s their... greatest weakness. Makes them predictable... so simple to control.”

Skyla charged her aunt again and landed a solid punch in Embla’s ribs. Embla hissed and twisted away, moving like a greased snake.

“If Helen’s the pawn,” Skyla said breathlessly, “does that mean you’re the queen?”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Embla circled Skyla, slashing at her with an open-handed jab. “You figured out a lot. You know my lineage. You know... You know my father abandoned my sisters and me... all of his children the way the Aesir abandoned the Valkyries or used them as their whores.” Embla bared her teeth. “He abandoned you too.”

Skyla recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the Allfather. Your grandfather. Baldur.”

The mists closed over them again like curtains at the end of an act. Everything fell silent except the crashing waves. My heart thumped several slow, stuttered beats, before Siobhan cursed. Then she screamed. Embla screeched, and Skyla coughed a strained grunt. When the fog lifted again, Siobhan was crumpled on the beach. A horrible scorch mark fanned across her chest. Waves lapped at her red curls, and her blood dyed the sea foam pink.

Well, that much of my vision came true, anyway.

Grim turned the sword toward Embla and took a spot at Skyla’s side, but Embla was already down on one knee. Blood seeped from her nose, and she clutched her ribs. Then things went fuzzy, and not because of the fog. Something colder than the wind and water chilled my insides, turning my guts to ice.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Shit. Skoll must have done more damage than I thought.

“So you were going to burn the world to ash and start over again?” Grim asked, oblivious to my flagging condition. His words sounded as though they came from a distant place, although I knew better. He stood only a few yards away, the sword sparking and spitting flames at his feet.

“The Valkyries and I…” Embla panted. “We’ll build a world where we’re not forsaken or taken for granted.”

“How were you going to survive?” Skyla asked. “After you burned everything down?”

Embla chuckled hoarsely. “That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave if I must. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Darkness swirled, sucking me toward an infinite, bottomless void. But a shout of horror mixed with outrage yanked me away from the edge. The bellow had sounded a little like my name. It also sounded a little like a grizzly bear imitating Thorin’s voice.

I pried my eyes open in time to see Skyla’s attack. Distracted by Thorin’s sudden appearance, Embla never defended herself. Skyla’s fist slammed into her jaw, and the older woman’s head rocked back. She collapsed as if her bones had turned to water, and she did not move again.

My satisfaction was bittersweet. How could it be otherwise, when I was pretty sure I was bleeding out, one heartbeat at a time? I looked away from Embla’s lifeless body and found Thorin standing at the edge of the surf, Mjölnir clutched in his fist.

Skyla followed the direction of his stare until her gaze fell on me. “Solina… Oh, shit.” She blanched and stumbled toward me, horror showing clearly in her wide eyes.

Thorin blipped out of sight and appeared at my side. He fell to his knees and gathered me in his arms. “You gonna die on me, Sunshine?” he asked, his voice hoarse and rough.

I swallowed and shook my head. The effort nearly took me out. “Trying not to.”