I shot to my feet the instant the white room appeared again. While I had no sense of time, I worried hours or even days had passed since my last visit. If Yarta could help me return to my family, I needed him to act quickly.

Emptiness surrounded me. I was alone, yet again. More of the same. "Please show yourself," I said, not bothering to yell. It was fruitless since the astral place had no real walls from what I understood. He was present, and he was close. "Give me a chance to—"

"How come you're always here now?" Yarta asked with an annoyed bite to his inflection. "Haven't had any quiet time to myself in weeks."

Though I looked in the direction of his voice, he hid himself from me. "I told you before, I don't know. I'm not aware of any power that could bring our minds together like this. But maybe you were on to something...what if I have some control here the same way you do? Wouldn't that be worth exploring?"

"You talk too much." He clapped and reappeared on the same tall chair he had last time. His spell instantly split the room in half again. It closed in on all sides.

"Not the first time I've heard that." I shrugged. "I suppose I let my tongue run away with me when the thoughts in my head need a place to go."

"You should try keeping your mind quiet. Might help me get a little rest."

"I truly am sorry for upsetting you."

He folded his arms tightly and grumbled. "You didn't upset me."

I scoffed. "It's obvious I did."

"You can't tell me how I'm feeling," he yelled, nearly standing. Even as he lurched forward, his presence wasn't terribly imposing. The width of his shoulders was almost waifish. His deep voice impressed me, but nothing else about him exemplified strength. If he attempted to intimidate me by raising his voice, he failed.

"Are you so certain of your own opacity?"

"What does that mean?"

I sighed. "It means I can see through you a little bit. You're not keeping your annoyance a secret."

He took a few breaths before replying, slowing his words and sitting up straight. "So...you can read my mind?" His voice lilted upward at the end, almost like a child's hope.

Must tread carefully, now. "Well, no—"

He instantly threw his hands up and spun around in his seat.

"—but I don't need to," I rushed. "The way you reacted the last time we spoke said enough. The tone of your voice now. The way you protect yourself even though we cannot touch each other. You say I reek of guilt, but everything about you shows how fear rules much of what you do." I tapped my temple cheekily. "I am more observant than most, and right now, you're the only thing to study. Am I wrong?"

Yarta played with his fingers. His silence, like everything else, spoke when he didn't.

"Ultimately, my magic might not mean anything in this place. I have no real way of knowing. Can't we agree to at least be friendly toward each other?"

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "I don't have many friends."

"Neither do I." I smiled. "Perhaps the label is too intimate. Allies, then, if nothing else."

Yarta turned fully and stood opposite me, closer than he'd ever been. "If I say yes, then what?"

"Can't really shake in agreement in here, can we?"

He scoffed. "Definitely not."

"Do you have any ideas, then? A gesture of good faith?"

"No, I don't. And other than talking to you, I don't know why it matters."

"Because if we trust each other, we can help each other. We're both here for a reason, don't you think? All I'm asking for is an agreement of support and to give our word that we mean no harm. Maybe that will put you at ease."

Everything Yarta did was calculated, even the way his face danced in his mask as he considered my offer. "Aye. Maybe."

"Let's start where we left off, then." I waved my right hand the way I'd seen him do before, keeping a close eye on his clothing. No movement at all, even after several tries. "Looks like I can't change things on your side the way you can change mine. That answers that."

"Mmhmm, I guess so."

"Who taught you, anyway? Your gestures aren't particularly familiar."

He shrugged. "Nobody else does magic in Einheim. Just me."

I squinted. "Truthfully?"

"Truthfully, I still think you could be a dream." Yarta put his hand flat against the barrier between us. "You're like me, but you're not. You're real, but you're not. I don't know where you came from, but I'm not convinced. My mind's always trying to play tricks on me, and this is just something else I'll have to learn to live with."

A swell of pity filled my chest. "I wish I could change that for you. All that fear I see is coming from somewhere."

"And all that guilt comes from somewhere, too. Maybe they're the same thing."

I felt compelled to comfort him however I could, as if assisting an innocent soul could undo all the harm I'd done to Asgard and to myself. And perhaps there was some truth in the notion that he was part of myself and not a stranger at all—didn't Father say his projections and shapeshifts were all facets of who he was deep inside, and he couldn't hope to conjure a form that he didn't already know in his soul?

Misguided or not, I placed my hand opposite his on the barrier. In an instant, the glass shattered, and both of us fell. The world of white warped and flashed like the Bifrost's prisms, swallowing our screams and twisting us together until I couldn't tell where I ended and Yarta began.