Page 153 of Blood of Ancients

Elayina looked older now, even after a single day in Alfheim, because shewasolder. Though the barnacles and moss had been lifted from Midgard with the end of the dark enchantment over her, it had been replaced with a contented tiredness I couldn’t deny seeing on her face.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, she was expiring before our eyes. My assumption was that, with the dark magical hold gone, she was rapidly aging in her usual elven years. And since she had already outlived her counterparts thrice over, if not more, then her body could not handle the stress and burden of those added years piling on all at once.

She gazed into my eyes, a younger reflection of hers. “I have one more request, Lightbearer.”

Fighting back tears, I swallowed over a lump in my throat. “Anything, Aunt Elayina.”

She smiled at the new title. Reaching out with her frail, skeletal hands, she gripped my palm and pulled me closer.

“Reach inside yourself and prove your title, child. Become the valkyrie you are meant to be, and fly me to the golden shores of my people.”

Chapter 42

Ravinica

I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TOdo what she asked, of course. I didn’t know the first thing about being a valkyrie. Like most of her musings, her request sounded esoteric and impossible.

Yet that was the beauty of the ancient bog-seer I had come to see as a guiding force and maternal figure in my life, in just a few short months: She would often infuriate you with the question, but give youjust enoughof a clue to find the answer yourself.

She was a hard woman to understand at times. Mind-addled, perhaps, by centuries of living for too long.

Elayina was also the oldest, last line of my lineage, and there was no way I wouldn’t do everything in my power to make her parting wish come true.

I didn’t ask herhow. I didn’t ask herwhy, orwhat, or anything else. I simply nodded, swallowing past my tight throat, willing myself to step up to bat and make her proud in her final resting place, her final moments.

For some reason—maybe my intense need for validation after a life of torment and failure—I wanted the seer to be satisfied and pleased with me. If my face was going to be the last she saw on this mortal plane, then I needed her to be content, restful, and leave us with a sigh of gratitude.

She did not deserve to be killed in her stuffy tree-cave by dark elves who imprisoned and hated her. She deserved to be around friends, smiling down at her, out in the balmy air on a picturesque balcony, after the work she’d put in all her life to make Alfheim a better place for the Ljosalfar.

Elayina deserved peace.

I’ve never assisted suicide before,I thought, gently squeezing her hand in mine.And I’m not sure I ever want to again. But for Elayina . . . after everything she’s shown me about myself . . . it’s the least she deserves. And I’ll do it.

My mates took a healthy step back from the bed, giving me space. The wind drifted lazily through my hair and swept strands over my forehead.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, I closed my eyes. While I held her palm in my hand against her belly, my free hand moved to her wrinkled forehead.

My palm was warm, her skin was clammy and cold.

When I sank inside myself, I closed off the borders of my mind, so no thoughts could get in or out. Any rustling of clothes or whispers of wind drowned away.

I found myself in a glorious suit of armor—a daydream of walking through a cold, frostbitten glade. I did not shiver as I walked through the wintry grounds, toward a shining light in the distance.

Around me, mountains loomed high, the walls of them creating a corridor for me to walk through. A moment’s hesitation as I stared down the dark passage toward the light caused the walls to creak, groan, and start to close around me.

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