Page 155 of Blood of Ancients

It seemed my journey through the skies had reverted her to her base form, cycling backward through time to an age when she was innocent, the land was good, and things were different. Back when she had her entire future before her, and never could have fathomed the life she would live.

It was an odd place, this paradise I’d found myself in, considering Elayina and her two siblings had been born under the worst of conditions—in a dungeon, surrounded by despair, an imprisoned mother, and agony.

Perhaps, then, this was thewishof Elayina. How she prayed it would be at her end.

I would see her through it.

I stood, wobbling for a moment before gaining my stride and heading for the cottage. Parked next to the quaint structure was an elaborate, beautiful chariot of elegantly carved wood. Lapping at the river next to it were two big cats—felines resting and lazily drinking, before shooting me a wary look as I approached the lodge.

The door opened before I could reach it, freezing my feet to the swishing grass.

A woman stood before me, as if expecting me. She had long, tawny-blonde hair sweeping in waves across her bare shoulders. Her face was perfect, expectant, and she was nude, with a frame that would put a mortal’s to shame. In her hand was a jerkin of brown leather armor, also immaculate and carved with the same symbols as the wood of her chariot.

“I was just preparing to bathe,” she explained, standing before me in all her naked glory. “Will you join me, valkyrie?”

She did not judge my wings nor the baby I held in my arms. She did not speak her words rudely, or with any affect at all. Her heavy eyes never left mine. They were stormy blue, like the sea, and infinitely wise. Yet there was a hint of playfulness in them too, despite her garb and stature of a warrioress.

I shook my head, taking a knee before her. “Great Freyja,” I said, intuitively understanding who this was. “It is not my time to bathe in the waters with you. However, it ishertime. She is Elayina of the Ljosalfar.”

Lifting my hands, I presented Elayina to the Vanir goddess. My great-aunt was little more than a bundle in my arms at this point, reverted back to her purest form.

“She lived a noble life and died a noble death,” I explained. “She belongs here, with you, Freyja, in the majesty of Folkvang.”

Freyja pondered that. “This one died in battle?”

I nodded, gazing up with imploring eyes. “She fought for a thousand years, goddess. The only rest she was given was at the end of her life.”

“Yes, surrounded by allies and covered in fluff and pillows, I see.”

“I would endeavor to make that peacefulness permanent.”

A moment passed. I did not feel tension or hesitation from Freyja, but rather curiosity at the way she looked down at the baby in my arms.

“I see it,” Freyja answered at last. “Were she burdened with the life she lived, this Ljosalfar heroine would be as you left her: old, decrepit, feeble. Her newborn qualities show how much pain, grief, and tragedy she has shed in order to present herself to me.”

I nodded solemnly. “Lady Elayina lived a hard life.”

When I blinked, Freyja stood closer, scant inches from my face. She bent low and took Elayina from my arms, cradling her as I had.

“Thank you for bringing me this gift. She will begin her new journey here.” Her voice was the wind itself. “Bygul and Trjegul will fawn over her, no doubt.” With an unclouded smirk, she nodded her head over to the drinking cats, and the chariot. “She will enjoy many rides in Brisingamen.”

It was enlightening to see these legendary things splayed out before me—the Vanir goddess of love, war, magic, fertility, and death. All her accoutrements, including the big black and gray cats that pulled her noble chariot.

I didn’t want to leave this perfect place, this vision, yet I knew my time was up. The meadows were fading around me. The river stopped running, and I nodded my head to Freyja before beating my wings one time and standing before her.

“May you find many more treasures to bring me, maiden of the sky,” the goddess said.

The last vision I had, which stamped itself on my mind, was that of Freyja standing naked before me, with the babe swaddled in her arms like Elayina was her child, and the beauty of her fairylike land framing her—all part of a landscape portrait from a forgotten time.

I breathed heavily and opened my eyes.

Lifted my hand away from Elayina’s forehead. Her face had gone gray, slack, yet with the smile from before showing forevermore.

“It is done,” I told my quiet mates, allowing a few burdensome tears to trickle down my face after that experience. “Elayina is with Freyja now, living at peace on the golden shores of Folkvang, where she always wanted to be.”

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