I lost count of how many times the soldiers by the road called for me. My mind was too focused on replaying every kind word Riggs just said. Absorbing anything else was futile. Our adolescent game was over; I looked forward to the new one that would redefine us both.

"I'm here," I yelled when the men came into view. "What are we—"

"Asgard calls for you. You're needed at the Bifrost," one said. He stood at full attention. His companion had the same stilted posture and unnatural calm for interrupting me so adamantly before.

"Yes, you mentioned that." I squinted while searching for clues of their identities; they sounded familiar, but something unspoken had changed. With full helms covering their faces completely, they were effectively strangers. "Should we hurry?"

Both of them turned on their heels and marched south to the Dagheim Bifrost site. Their eerie silence didn't fit with their supposed urgency or the need for my presence. Most soldiers took any opportunity to chat with me. Instead, they were my escorts.

"Are you looking forward to the new season?" I asked, stepping up to squeeze between them. "Given the time of day on Asgard, the welcome banquet has already begun, yes?"

"Captain Vali, Asgard calls for you," the first soldier repeated, ignoring my questions and keeping his pace.

The second finished for him. "You're needed at the Bifrost."

I stopped at this. A wash of discontent came over me that I couldn't ignore. "What is all this?"

Their feet halted, too, crunching on the dry gravel below. They didn't turn to me.

"Show me your faces. Now."

They didn't move. Only the wind in the leaves bothered to answer.

That—and whispering steel of a sword being drawn behind me.

I ducked and turned, stunned to see a third soldier closing in quickly. He didn't announce himself at all, nor did he swing his weapon at me with much intent. It was aimed at me to push me forward.

"To the Bifrost," one of the first two soldiers said, approaching to take one of my arms. His companion intended to take the other, surely.

Something's wrong. And I'm unarmed. I bolted to the east and cut through the trees to circumvent them. They'd never catch me, and even if they could, I'd shift form and beat them anyway. To my armor, then to Asgard.

The window of opportunity was closing for my Narvlheim portal, and I focused on the small clearing of light straight ahead. The clang of armor followed, then surrounded me from the other side.

How many scouts had been sent to find me? If I hadn't been unnerved enough already, the chase set my heart to new heights.

I couldn't risk any of them following me through the portal, so I stopped short on the other side of a wide tree and watched my pursuers proceed without me in their sights. They ran stiffly, like dolls. Their minds were closed off—who was driving them?

Once I was sure none of them could still see me, I slunk to the portal site and took a deep breath. There wasn't time to focus and pleasantly acclimate; the moment I felt Narvlheim's chilled air, I transformed and kept running. Time wasn't on my side.

The family home wasn't as far from where I arrived compared to the Bifrost site, but it was still exhausting to reach in my anxious state. I stood on two legs again when on the porch and opened the front door, expecting to hear Mum fussing about my disheveled appearance.

Yet—nothing. "Mum?" I called out, praying silently to have her or Father's advice. Tiwaz trotted down the stairs and chirped with his fluffy tail high, but nothing more. A small handwritten note on the table by the front door solved the mystery:

Lo – Hela's been gone two weeks without a word, nor have I heard from Grid or Freyr. I'm strolling to the city for a visit. If the moon's still low, come find me on the road and tell me all about what mischief you have planned for when we're guaranteed privacy again.

Love - Ginny

I shivered at the thought of whatever she alluded to, not wanting to acknowledge that my parents were actual people, a couple, and lovers. Such things always made me twist inside. There wasn't time to wonder how long they'd been gone; without a way to know what happened to the soldiers, I had no choice but to walk into the trap they set for me at the Bifrost. It surely was a trap, anyway—why else would they be willing to physically carry me there?

As Captain, I had to bury my fear. I locked it deep within, behind the breastplate of my armor. Without Mum to enforce the tradition, I accepted the potential danger without praying to Narvi first; not worth wasting a few precious minutes when he clearly wasn't listening, anyway.

The Bifrost site was quiet on Narvlheim—not that it would've been any different—but I had hope that there'd be some indication of what was happening on the other end. Nothing. I was going in blind.

"Okay. Breathe." I said it to myself, to the sky, to the ground. "Breathe." I took a single heavy step into the pattern below and was immediately surrounded by light and wind that screamed past my ears.

Dizzying. Disorienting. It was waiting for me.

The trip ended with a quick slam on Asgard. I'd nearly fallen over completely but caught myself and knelt instead to steady my feet. Being on the ground put me at an immediate disadvantage.

Yet the Bifrost was empty. I was alone. The wheels kept moving and shifting all around me, like the machine had a mind of its own. Is it running by itself? Is that the problem? I hoped my instincts were wrong and it was a simple fix after all.

"Hello?" I called, only answered by my own echoes. "Can anyone hear me?" I made my way to the east wall and found a mess of metal strewn about. Someone gave a valiant effort to destroy the primary control panel; perhaps that was why the Narvlheim portal was so sensitive. Impossible to know what was intentional or not.

Someone shouted from the open entrance, silhouetted by the warm sunset behind him. "Lokison."

I jumped at first with my hand over my chest; once recognizing him, I shook my head and couldn't help but smile in relief. At least he was a familiar face and not a monster invented by my fear. "Gunnar. Good man. You startled me. What happened here?"

He closed the main doors behind him and came a little closer. "A real mess, isn't it?" His voice wavered enough to notice. "I think they had to break that part to keep everyone in."

I furrowed my brow. "Keep everyone in?"

"Only works one way now." He pointed at the far end where I'd just arrived.

"So, it can receive, not send." I nodded with understanding, yet my hair stood up. "Do you know why?"

"Yes." He swallowed hard and fidgeted with the hilt of his sword in front. His armor fit poorly, not quite snug against his barrel chest after curving over his belly. In the years since he'd earned a place amongst the soldiers, he hadn't achieved enough of a rank for something custom and more secure.

"I see." My nose itched as I sensed his fear. I nearly sneezed. "If this is the destruction done in here, what's happening out there?"

"Enough to make a difference." He shifted his feet and gripped his hilt again. "You can't stop him, so you shouldn't try."

"Stop who?"

"Don't be stupid," he spat. "Modi's getting what belongs to him. He can't let you take over."

My gut dropped hard, nauseating me. Modi knew. "Oh, no. Gunnar—"

"Don't come any closer, Lokison." He revealed his blade and openly trembled while holding it up. "I'm warning you."

I put my hands up. "We can talk about this."

"No, we can't." The longer he stood before me, the more his countenance faltered. His eyes turned red, watery, threatening to flood at any moment. "We can't talk about anything. You'll cast spells and trick me. I won't be a coward—I'll stop you. I will!"

"Think for a moment, Gunnar. Do you really want to risk your life for Modi?" I tipped my head to plead with him. "Has he ever respected you? Given you a kind word? Come on, swords aren't even your strong suit. You've always done better with private combat—"

"Don't talk about me like you know me," he screamed. The tears that were held back a minute ago were released with abandon.

"But, Gunnar, I do know you. I trained with you. Grew up with you. We know the same rules, the same friends, the same places. You're, what, a year or two below me?"

"Stop it." He wiped his face quickly and held up the sword with both hands now.

While concern over Modi pushed me to move faster, Gunnar's palpable terror slowed me in a mire of pity. For what? Why challenge me when he had to know how mismatched we were? I sighed and touched my own sword's hilt. "Look at you. Unsteady and flinching. Do you really think you're going to beat me like that?"

"No." He hiccupped. "But I have to try. If I don't at least try, he'll hurt me."

I pressed my lips in a line. "Ah. I'm not the real fear, am I?"

He clenched his jaw. An affirmation if there ever was one.

"Perhaps I can offer a small mercy of proof. What do you have to prove to him?" I asked. "Do I need to bleed to spare you?"

"You have to die." He coughed out a few sobs. "If you don't die, he'll kill me. He says he won't, but he will. He'll do it and enjoy it."

"Whoa, slow down—"

Gunnar shrieked the longer he spoke; his crazed words were daggers in the air to my ears. "Want to show mercy? You do it instead."

"Do what? Kill you? No." I worried now that he might hurt himself on my behalf and drew my sword against his to keep it stable. "I've never killed before, and I'm not starting now. There's honor in preserving life. Negotiations end with death and leave no chance for restoration. These are things I know you know."

"But you don't know, Lokison. You don't know anything." He wiped his face again and nearly dropped his blade in the meantime.

"Don't I? Don't I know that you're an orphan, Gunnar? That you lost everyone like I lost my brother?"

"I have no one. I thought I had Modi. Thought he'd take me with him—he left me here with you." Gunnar had more brawn than I believed and thrust toward me, solidly scratching the front of my breastplate and over my waist. Without hesitation, he hit me again. Then again. Then again. Each time, he slammed his sword against my armor, disorienting me with the calamity despite not reaching my skin.

"This is madness," I yelled, losing sense of myself and my self-control. "Gunnar, stop!"

"I'll kill you. I'll do it." He hit faster and more frantically. "Die, Jotun! Die!"

"Jotun? Is that—ah!" I shielded my face with my left vambrace just in time to avoid his striking near my head. Thankfully, my height was another advantage. "I'm warning you, stop!"

Between each word, he struck with the full weight of his weapon, nearly knocking the wind out of me. "Can't fail. Can't fail. I'm not a coward!"

I couldn't hold him off with my sword and armor alone and pulled my dagger out to block. It was a solid strategy: let him wear himself out and falter. If he fell from exhaustion, I could kick his sword away, bind him with a spell, deal with him later. He was wasting time...wasting time...who knew what Modi's vengeance could bring on the other side of the Bifrost doors? If he had his own band of loyals, there were surely more men than the ones who tried to fetch me from Dagheim.

Another thought drowned everything, even more than Gunnar's exhausted yells and the crash of steel on steel: if they knew where I was, what happened to Riggs?

In my distraction, I lost my footing. Gunnar did, too. At the same time, we tumbled, one over the other, angry and yelling and trying to keep our blades straight.

It was only a moment, but he was unlucky. He twisted while under me, shifting his breastplate enough to expose his lower back. Through his underarmor, my dagger sliced with ease. The resistance of his flesh made my hand shake.

Gunnar gasped and dropped his sword. He craned his neck backward, exposing his throat and the quick pulsing of his heartbeat.

"Gods...Gods, no." I didn't release my dagger, too afraid to move it. My mind was somewhere between horror and anger. "I told you to stop. Why didn't you stop? Why did you fight me?"

He struggled to breathe, so I used my other hand to find the latches for his breastplate. The hinges were hidden and tight, proving too hard to open in our odd position. As he panted below me, a splash of blood crested over his lip.

"Shit. Shit..." I muttered, trying not to get too caught up in the panic.

"You...left the knife in?" he asked with shuddering cadence.

I gulped, halfway wishing he would swallow to get the blood out of his mouth. "Like this, you can be healed. It's not over yet. You'll be fine, I know it."

He didn't blink. Didn't even try to look away from me. His eyes wrote themselves into my memory the same way Riggs's presence had earlier. I'd never forget them, his black and red eyes, shining and shaking and staring.

"H-hold on," I said, nodding quickly without trying. "I'll find help."

"You'll...let me s-suffer?" He sneered, spraying me with a bit of his blood. It dripped past his chin now, much like how the primary wound made my hand warm with slick. "Help isn't c-coming. If you l-leave me like this, I'll d-die anyway. I'll d-die in p-pain. And you'll p-prove you're the monster Modi s-says you are."

No. I wanted to give him moments of compassion. Needed to preserve some semblance of hope. But he wasn't wrong. How could I deny him a peaceful end if that was his last wish?

"I'm sorry, Gunnar." My lip quivered. "Please forgive me." As swiftly as I could, I pulled my dagger and grimaced at his cries. With the blade now firmly against his neck, I shut my eyes and yanked my arm to the side, slitting his throat in a single swipe.

I couldn't watch him bleed out or choke. His gurgled breaths were enough. He didn't scream, not that he could. When his movement stopped and the Bifrost went quiet, I slowly rose to my feet and threw my head back.

Gunnar was number one. There was no turning back.