Page 63 of Soul of Shadow
She opened Google and typedthe nine realms.
Millions of results loaded. Most were related to the Marvel movies or were fan wikis devoted to different Norse-themedvideo games. Buried among the fantasy content, however, were a few pages that listed ancient Norse texts as sources. She clicked one of those and began to read.
There are nine realms in Nordic mythology: Niflheim, Muspelheim, Asgard, Midgard, Jotunheim, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, and Helheim. Legend states that each realm is held in the branches or roots of Yggdrasil, the great world tree.
A tree?Charlie thought.How ridiculous.How did they explain stars and galaxies and gravity?
Shaking her head, she clicked back to the search bar and typednorse symbol for helheim, toggling over to the image results.
The first thing she saw was Odin’s knot, the symbol for death that had appeared on the first tree and every one since. The next image held an odd shape that looked almost like a two-sided candelabra. Then she dragged her finger to the third result, which was—
Something huge and glowing landed on the roof just below her windowsill.
Charlie stifled a scream, staggering backward and falling out of her desk chair. She hit the carpet with a muffledthud.
Above her, out the window, the glowing creature rose to its full height, elongating, showing arms and legs and a torso and long, flowing dark hair—a statuesque woman. As the halo of light around her began to fade, Charlie could make out more details: pale skin; brown leather and shining silver armor; leather gloves; a sword hanging from one hand; a spear and potentially other weapons latched across the back; a silver winged circlet crown; and… goodness… were thosewings?
Yet none of those details were even the most shocking thing about the woman standing on her roof. Because as the lightaround her dimmed to nothing, looking at her was like staring into a mirror. A reflection of herself, but more pale, more muscular, more terrifying. And Charlie knew, as impossible as it was, who it was that stood before her. She knew the way one half of your heart instinctively knew the other.
Charlie whispered, her throat as dry as sandpaper:
“S … Sophie?”
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Sophie stood with her wings at their full expanse. As Charlie watched, the wings folded in on themselves, tucking into Sophie’s back until they were no larger than a child in a swaddle.
It was impossible.
It couldn’t be.
Sophie was dead. She’d died two years ago, in the hospital just outside town. Charlie was there. Mason was there. Her mom was there. They had watched her die, and they had mourned her. Half the town had shown up to her funeral. Her mom had given a speech that no one could understand, because she was crying so hard. She’d gripped Mason’s hand until there was no blood left in his fingertips. No one had been the same since.
Sophie wasdead.
And yet there she stood.
In the corner, the vätte peered out from behind his half-eaten cookie, trying to get a look at whatever had frightened Charlie. Crumbs clung to his white beard. Setting the cookie down on the floor, he scampered over to the bed and clambered up the duvet. His little arms were surprisingly nimble; he madeit up in no time, perching himself on the corner for a better view of what was about to happen.
Trembling, Charlie pushed herself off the carpet and rose to her feet. She kept her eyes on Sophie, who didn’t smile or frown or even display any sign of recognition; she only stared down at Charlie, eyes tight and watchful. Charlie stepped tentatively toward the window, leaning over her desk to unlock the latch. Her fingers slid around the handle and pulled up. As soon as there was an opening large enough for Sophie to duck under, Charlie let go of the window and stumbled back, as if afraid her twin sister might strike her.
“Are you—” Charlie wet her lips, willing the rasp to flee her throat. “Are you an… angel?”
The first words her dead sister spoke to Charlie were these:
“Not quite.”
Sheathing the sword in the belt around her waist, Sophie ducked under the opening in the window and stepped onto Charlie’s desk. The desk in the bedroom that had once beentheirs. Sophie leapt carefully off the desk, landing on the carpet as softly as a cat.
Straightening, Sophie said, “I don’t have much time.” Her voice was deeper than Charlie remembered. Could her voice have deepened between fourteen and sixteen? “Mom will be up soon to check on you before she goes to bed.”
At hearing her twin sister casually call their motherMom, as if she hadn’t been gone for the last two years, as if she’d never left at all, Charlie’s stomach twisted painfully. There were a thousand meanings and a thousand memories loaded into that one word. They had dropped it so many times, often in unison, running through the halls of their house in search of a snackor a movie or a toy they’d lost for the fifteenth time. And two years ago, it suddenly vanished. No more running through the halls. No more unison. Charlie thought she would never hear that word come from her sister’s lips again.
“H-how is this even possible?”
“I’ll explain that another time,” Sophie said, striding across the room in her leather boots and locking the door. She didn’t glance around the room in wonder. Didn’t even express surprise at how it had changed since the last time she’d been there. Which made Charlie wonder… Had she visited before?
“Wait.” Charlie’s brain caught up with itself enough to realize the implication of Sophie’s earlier statement about their mom. “Would Mom be able toseeyou?”
