Page 22 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Freyja’s pretty face scowled. “Never apologize for trying to do something. The key is that you tried, Shalendra. I can be nothing but proud of you for that. You have lived in a world that limits your abilities and growth. Your father has much to answer for. Since you were a baby, I’ve sensed a raw power inside of you—one you should already be quite adept at wielding by now. From what I saw in my God’s Glass, you will solve the puzzle behind the disappearance of Olivier and Jessica.”

She turned her amethyst-colored eyes to Cyran, “Along with the help of an equally strong-willed and closed-off elf, I might add. The two of you will discover their secret and how to bring them home.”

“You have seen this?” Cyran heard the veiled tone behind the goddess’s words and wondered what she meant.

“Yes, Cyran, I saw that and so much more. You both need to return to Svartálfheimr. Many good people are dying. Your healing magic and a few gifts my goddaughter possesses are needed there and in many more realms. Something has been set free, much like the plague that devastated Midgard in ancient times. Whole villages and worlds are dying, and we cannot find a reason behind the spreading disease or its cure. Idunn is beside herself because she hasn’t been able to help. You know how sensitive she is.”

Freyja took Shalendra’s hand in hers and placed it in Cyran’s, closing his long fingers around Shalendra’s. “You must work together, or this will fail. If you fail, the Nine Worlds will as well.”

“My lady, what am I to do? I would help if I’m allowed.” Castien stood off to one side of their small group, tall and proud.

Freyja smiled. “You remind me of another Bloodminer I once knew. His name was Voron, if my memory serves.”

“Voron is my grandfather. He retired when I was old enough to begin mining. He and my grandmother are on a long-promised vacation. The minute he walked through the door on his last day of work, Grandmama greeted him with their packed bags, knowing he would try to talk her out of going anywhere.” His gaze moved between Freyja and Cyran. “I never realized how many people my grandfather knew.”

“Yes, be that as it may, it’s good to hear he is living well and experiencing life. I’ve never understood miners. I could never stay down in dank, dark caves and tunnels. I need the sun.” She narrowed her gaze, a smile slowly appearing. “You will go with Cyran and Shalendra. If my instincts are correct—and they are—your specific talents and a certain stone will be needed before the end of all this chaos.”

Castien frowned. “How do you?—”

Freyja shook her head. “If she wants you to know, it is her story to tell. Now, let’s see about getting the three of you to where a few of my friends are waiting. I believe you will all get along quite well.”

Her amethyst gaze speared Cyran’s. “You will need one another before this is all said and done. You will recognize where you are once you’ve arrived. Study everything around you and leave nothing to chance. React with speed, or you will not be able to fix what’s happening in Svartálfheimr or Alfheimr. Every day that passes, the twins' difficulty increases.”

Cyran scowled and stepped toward the goddess, his worry beating at Shalendra. She placed her more petite body between theirs. “If they are in trouble, Freyja, I need to be with them, not running off on some wild goose chase,” Cyran argued. “They are as close to me as brothers, and if something happened to either of them, I would never forgive myself.”

Freyja smiled at her goddaughter. “Protective as usual. He means what he says, but finding fault with someone driven by love was never in my wheelhouse.”

Her gaze rose to Cyran’s. “From the moment you arrive, you must be on your toes and wary of everyone and everything. Like me, whoever is behind this has access to a God’s Glass or something else that allows them to skip through time. During the war on Midgard, my Night Witches discovered this anomaly, so be very careful.”

She approached Cyran, her purple gaze cutting into him like a cold blade. “I love Shalendra as if she were my daughter, and I entrust her to your care, Elf Lord. Do not disappoint me.”

Cyran gave her a slight tilt of his head. “While I am not an elf lord, I won’t, my lady. I will return your goddaughter in the same condition she is now.”

Freyja’s gaze warmed. “You have no idea about your lineage, do you, Cyran?”

Before he could ask her what she meant, Freyja turned and pulled Shalendra into a tight hug, kissing her on each cheek. “Stay strong and listen to your instincts. They have never led you astray. You may discover that your strength lies in the amazing gifts you have held at bay for so long. Open yourself up and live, my dear.”

The goddess stepped back. Closing her eyes, she raised her arms wide as a silvery light appeared around her body and seemed to be coming from the matching amethyst gemstones she wore. As the brilliance increased, she opened her eyes and met Cyran’s. “Go and become who you were meant to be.” Her hands crashed together in front of her, and they were plunged into darkness.

8

In the blackness, Cyran grabbed what he hoped was Shalendra and pulled her slight form to him. His body recognized the perfection of her form against his—as if she were made for him. His arm snaked around her narrow shoulders, and he pulled her closer.

“I hear Castien’s panic. Do you have a hold on him?”

Shalendra’s soft chuckle warmed his insides. “Yes. I have a death grip on his arm, but he doesn’t like the total darkness. Can’t say I do much either.”

“Spending a significant amount of time in the Dwarven dungeons, I would expect a reaction like that, although, for a dwarf, it's unusual.” Narrowing his gaze, he studied the darkness in front of them and realized the dark surroundings had lightened.

A ghostly white mist filled the expanse, and pale shades of reds, purples, and blues seeped into view, threading like ore veins through the light. The black backdrop brightened the colors, and he had to squint against the continuing brilliance as they sped through what he now recognized as a space nebula.

“Look at that one! It’s so dramatic.” Shalendra's voice filled with excitement. He followed the end of her finger to a gorgeous teal light emanating from two irregularly shaped concentric circles surrounding a darker red center. The softer shades of teal nestled between the objects gave the effect of a giant eye.

“You’re seeing the death of a star.” Cyran pointed to the smaller red dot at the center of the mass. “There’s what’s left of the planet.”

“If the star is red, why is everything teal around it?” Castien's voice was tight, and his gaze fixated on the scene.

“The red space around the planet is warm dust expelled in an explosion. Gaseous winds and dust are cast out into space, and the farther we are from the planet, the color changes from the radiation and the freezing temperatures. I’m just guessing, though. I am not well-educated on space.”

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