Page 85 of Soul of Shadow
Or, at least, that’s what Charliethoughtthe tree did. But when she looked closer, she realized that the tree was still completely intact; what she’d taken for half the trunk splitting away was really a tall woman with bark for skin and a crown of branches atop her head detaching herself from the trunk and stepping out into the humans’ path.
Abigail made a noise that sounded like a mouse getting squished by a snow boot.
“Traveler,” said the bark-woman in a voice that creaked and rustled. “I am theaskafroa, ash wife of this ancient tree.”
“Oh!” Remembering her manners, Charlie dug into one of her inside-out pockets for a gold coin. Mason and Abigail quickly followed suit. One by one, they each tossed a coin to her clawed feet. Then, uncertain how to proceed, Charlie stooped into a bow and began, “Oh, regal ash wife. We seek to—”
“Stand up,” crackled the askafroa, and Charlie quickly straightened.“I am the soul of this ash tree. As bound to its existence as it is to mine. I care not for silly human rituals of subservience.”
“Right.” Charlie glanced sideways at her companions, who shrugged. “Whatdoyou care for, then?”
“You are friend to the mare of night,” she said instead of answering.
“No,” Charlie said, her stomach clenching painfully. “Maybe once, but… no. Elias is no friend of mine.”
“I see.” The askafroa tilted her branch-covered head, black eyes scanning Charlie’s body. “Then, you are not on the side of the trickster god, Loki?”
“Of course not,” Charlie practically spat. “Why would you ask me that? Loki wishes to destroy all of Asgard.”
“Perhaps.” With a soft crack and rustle, the askafroa walked toward Charlie. Abigail and Mason shuffled away. Charlie stayed where she was, some instinct telling her not to back away or look afraid. “Do you know the story of the ash tree, child?”
“Um.” Charlie’s eyes darted to the trunk of the tree from which the askafroa had emerged. “Sort of. I was told that it’s the most important tree in the forest.”
The askafroa’s dark eyes glittered at this. She seemed pleased. “That’s right. But do you knowwhyit’s considered the most important?”
“I don’t.”
“There are several reasons,” the askafroa said. “The first is that its elements hold magical abilities accessible even to humans; the ash tree’s bark can stop bleeding, while its leaves may heal a snake bite.”
“That’s… useful,” said Charlie.
“Ma’am?” came Mason’s voice, and Charlie cringed as the askafroa turned her creaky head to face her brother. “Miss… uh, Ash Tree? Sorry. It’s just… our friend is in trouble. Bad trouble. And we’re trying to reach her sort of quickly. Before, you know, she…” At the withering look on the askafroa’s face, Mason shrank backward and whispered the last word: “Dies.”
“You will hear my story,” the ash wife said, joints creaking and crackling as she advanced on Mason. Charlie’s brother stumbled backward, nearly running into a tree. “Else you will find yourself suddenly ill with ash fever.”
“What’s that?” Mason asked.
“A special illness that we askafroa are able to cast upon those who displease us.” She reached up with one clawed, bark-covered finger, running it down the side of Mason’s face. “Warts. Fever. Rash.” She leaned forward, bringing her cheek, from which sprouted little twigs with leaves at the end, beside Mason’s. “Parasites that crawl through one’s blood, inching their way toward the heart, eventually biting into the aorta, burrowing inside, sucking your body clean…”
“Right.” Mason cleared his throat. “Got it. Story time, then.”
The askafroa straightened and stepped backward, keeping her beady black eyes on Mason. Then, with a nod, she began.
“The universe consists of eight realms,” she said, waving a hand through the air. Light-green phosphorescent crystals lifted from her fingers, swirling together to form what looked like orbs hanging in the sky. “The humans believe that there are nine. That Asgard and Midgard are separate worlds, but they are wrong. One world merely exists atop the other.” As she spoke, one of the orbs lit up from the inside, as if a white lightbulb were at itscenter. “The realms are connected by the roots and branches of Yggdrasil, the great tree of life.” The askafroa waved a hand, and the orbs rearranged themselves into a lopsided circle. Around and between them, more crystals appeared, coalescing and extending into the rough shape of a trunk, roots, and dangling branches. “Asgard and Midgard sit within the trunk of the tree. Alfheim, Vanaheim, Muspelheim, and Niflheim hang from its branches. Jotunheim, Svartalfheim, and Helheim are connected via the roots.” As she named each of the realms, the orbs lit up in turn, indicating the location of each.
“Now.” The askafroa turned to her human audience. “What you may not know is that Yggdrasil is an ash tree. A green ash, to be exact—the same as my tree in this forest.”
She paused, probably waiting for Charlie and the others to fill in the ending from there. When none of them did, she sighed and gestured to the floating image of the world-tree. “Do you not see? Ash is sacred. It is the Great Connector, the tissue that holds together all eight realms. And I, as an askafroa, am one of Yggdrasil’s many guardians.”
“Wait.” Charlie stepped forward, looking between the ash wife and the image of Yggdrasil. “You’re telling me that the ash tree you just stepped out of… is somehow connected to all of the other realms?”
The askafroa nodded without blinking.
“Then it’syouwho sent those kids to Muspelheim. To become sacrifices for Surtur.”
Drawing away, the ash wife hissed. “Neither I nor any of my sisters would allow such a thing. We fear Ragnarök as greatly as the gods do. And all creatures are expressly prohibited from using Yggdrasil as a means of transportation. It is far too precious. Theonly way to move between realms is via the Bifrost. The great rainbow bridge that humans believe connects Earth and Asgard but in reality connects all eight realms.”
“Then how did—”
