A few hours had passed.
Astrid braced her hands on her knees and pushed herself upright, the quiet pop of her joints breaking the silence in the room. A twinge of stiffness tugged at her muscles, a reminder of sleepless nights spent worrying, fighting, and planning. Her gaze drifted to the couch, where Elsa lay curled beneath a blanket. The glow of the firelight flickered softly across her face, her features peaceful and free of the pain that seemed to haunt her every waking moment.
The sound of the wind rattling against the windows pulled Astrid back into the moment. She straightened, her mouth set into a grim line as determination tightened her jaw. The time for hesitation had passed.
Her eyes flicked to the axe resting against the wall. The weapon gleamed faintly in the firelight, its sharp edge a comforting weight in an uncertain world. Carefully, she grabbed it, slinging it over her shoulder. The cool metal pressed into her back like an anchor, grounding her fiery resolve.
This was it. She'd tried patience, she'd tried reasoning, but Gothi's cryptic games had gone on long enough. Tonight, Astrid would have her answers, whether the old woman wanted to give them or not.
The drive to Gothi's hut unfolded in a chaotic blur. Rain lashed at the windshield in furious sheets, the storm relentless as it drowned the roads and clawed at her car. Astrid gripped the wheel until her knuckles ached, her muscles taut with both anger and anticipation. Tires screeched on slick pavement as she took turn after turn with no care for the impatient horns blaring behind her.
Her mind raced with too many thoughts to sort through questions she barely had words for, answers she wasn't sure she wanted but needed. The weight pressed heavily on her chest, and she inhaled sharply to fight off the suffocating pressure.
When the tiny hut finally came into view, Astrid hit the brakes. The car slid to a halt, gravel flying as she parked so close to the door that it looked like she might crash into it. The sight of the humble structure, worn and barely standing against the storm's fury, didn't stir a single hesitation.
The driver's side door slammed open, and Astrid leapt out into the freezing rain. The bitter wind bit at her face, tugging her soaked hair into wild strands that clung to her skin. The crunch of snow under her boots and the icy trickle down the back of her neck didn't slow her.
Her fist pounded on the door, loud enough to challenge the storm itself. The frame rattled with each strike, her fury impossible to ignore.
The door creaked open after a long moment, and Gothi stood on the other side. The sight of the wrinkled, hunched woman sent heat coursing through Astrid's veins. That same maddening smirk curled Gothi's lips, and her sharp eyes glittered with infuriating amusement. Her chuckle, raspy and dry, grated against Astrid's frayed nerves.
She knew Astrid would come. Of course, she did.
"Wise as they say," Astrid muttered, voice heavy with sarcasm. She straightened her shoulders, stiff with unspent frustration.
Gothi said nothing, simply turning on her heel and shuffling back inside without a word. Her cane tapped against the uneven floor, the rhythm steady and calm, so at odds with Astrid's swirling thoughts that it only made her angrier.
With a heavy sigh, Astrid stepped into the hut, slamming the door behind her with a loud bang.
Inside, the space pressed down on her like a weight. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of drying herbs, old books, and the faint tang of damp wood. Shelves sagged under piles of yellowed scrolls, dusty jars, and strange trinkets, an organized chaos only Gothi seemed to understand.
Astrid wrinkled her nose, feeling claustrophobic under the low ceiling and cluttered shelves. "How does she even live like this?" she muttered, her tone edged with disgust.
Gothi let out a long, rasping cough, the wet sound rattling in her chest. It dragged on far longer than seemed natural, but when it ended, the old woman stood as if nothing had happened. "What are ye here for, child?" she finally rasped, leaning on her stick.
Astrid blinked, startled at the question. "You…you can talk?"
One of Gothi's thin, gray brows arched high. "Aye. Silence is golden, but speech cuts through the storm. Every tongue rests until the wind demands otherwise."
Astrid narrowed her eyes. "You've never spoken before. It made sense to think you couldn't!"
Gothi twisted her cane idly between her hands, the motion as lazy as the smirk on her face. "That's called assumptions, dear. Words aren't meant to be spent so easily, they lose their shine."
The thin patience Astrid carried snapped slightly. "Well, now I need answers," she growled.
Gothi said nothing, simply swung her stick sharply at Astrid's shin. The sting startled a yelp out of her, but the old woman's pace remained slow as she turned toward the window.
Rain streaked down the glass in uneven paths. Gothi raised a bony finger, tracing a raindrop's winding journey before speaking again. "Why do ye pound on my door, reckless and wild? The storm can wait. So can answers, child."
Astrid readjusted the axe, frustration simmering under her skin. She took a purposeful step forward. "I know who the soul is. And I don't want riddles or excuses. Just tell me."
A low chuckle escaped Gothi's lips, soft and hoarse. "Do ye now? Then speak it aloud, Hofferson. Let the winds hear yer thoughts. Who do ye think holds the key?"
"It's their daughter, isn't it?" Astrid snapped, her arms crossing as frustration bubbled under her skin. Her nerves twisted with uncertainty, but her voice remained firm.
Gothi's smirk deepened, her hunched silhouette framed against the dim light streaming through the rain-splattered window. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with that unreadable knowing. "Hmm…and why do ye think so, child?"
"That's not an answer," Astrid retorted sharply, her grip tightening on the haft of her axe. Her tone grew colder, more demanding. "And could you stop smiling like that? It's creepy."
With a sudden, sharp motion, Gothi rapped her stick lightly against Astrid's forehead, the thud startling her backward. "So rude. Just like yer mother," Gothi muttered under her breath, her tone so matter-of-fact it sent irritation rippling through Astrid.
At those words, however, Astrid froze. Confusion spread through her like an unwelcome wave, dampening her fiery frustration. "Wait…you knew my mother?"
Gothi didn't answer. Instead, she turned back to the window, her gnarled hand pressing flat against the glass. Rain streaked down in jagged trails, distorting her reflection. Without a glance back, she replied cryptically, "Who said I did? Who said I didn't?"
Astrid's brows furrowed deeply. Her teeth clenched, the flood of unspoken questions clawing at her tongue. "Then-"
"That's none of yer concern right now," Gothi interrupted, her voice firm, her cane tapping rhythmically against the floor as though to punctuate her dismissal.
The words only fueled Astrid's frustration. Her fingers curled around the haft of her axe, the metal glinting faintly in the flickering light of the oil lamp. She stepped closer, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. "If it's not important, stop bringing her up," she demanded, her voice low and cutting. "This is about Elsa. About Jack. The soul is their daughter, isn't it? I know it is."
A soft sigh escaped Gothi's lips as she finally turned to face Astrid fully, her lined face unreadable. Her sharp gaze bore into her as if peeling back layers of her mind. "And what proof have ye? Hmm? Yer feelin'? Feelings slip through yer fingers like sand, Hofferson. Truth needs a stronger foundation than that." Her finger wagged dismissively, as though scolding a wayward child.
"This is so frustrating!" Astrid snapped, her voice rising as her control slipped further. Her axe swung forward, its edge hovering just inches from Gothi's neck, a clear challenge lingering in her stance.
But Gothi didn't flinch. She barely blinked as she slowly raised her cane, pushing the blade aside with an ease that only heightened Astrid's irritation. "Kill me, then," Gothi said plainly, her voice low and steady. "See where that gets ye. Silence forever…or are answers what ye really want?"
Astrid's breath came quicker, her chest rising and falling with the force of her restrained emotions. Her grip on the axe loosened slightly, her knuckles white with effort. For a fleeting moment, she imagined calling Gothi's bluff, if only to finally break that maddening calm.
But there was something in the older woman's gaze, something impenetrable, untouchable. Astrid's hands trembled faintly before she pulled the axe back.
The room felt heavy with the sound of rain pattering insistently on the glass.
"All right," Astrid hissed through her teeth, lowering the weapon but keeping her narrowed gaze locked on Gothi. "You want to play games? Fine. I'm done trying to reason with you. Just tell me. For Thor's sake!"
Gothi's smile widened slightly, the shift in expression barely perceptible but somehow unsettling. "Oh, I'll tell ye, dear one," she said softly, her words lilting like a strange melody. She tapped her cane against the floor once, a deliberate rhythm. "But first, understand this...ye'll not be able to share what I tell ye. And I'm only speakin' because yer stubborn head has already pieced the puzzle halfway together. But are ye ready to hear the whole weight of it, Hofferson? Even if it becomes a stone in yer chest?"
Astrid's fingers flexed instinctively on the haft of the axe at Gothi's cryptic warning. The rain outside mirrored the chaotic churn of her thoughts, streaking and swirling wildly against the window. "I'm ready," Astrid replied, her voice unwavering but tight. "Tell me everything. Who is the soul?"
Gothi tilted her head, her narrowed eyes assessing Astrid's resolve. After a long moment, she turned back to the window, lifting a thin, gnarled hand to unlatch it.
As the frame creaked open, cold air swept into the room, carrying the sharp scent of rain and earth. Droplets scattered across the wooden sill, some catching in Gothi's wild gray hair.
"Elsa was pregnant in her second life," Gothi began, her voice low and distant, like an ancient storyteller recounting a tale long forgotten. "She carried a child? her and Jack's daughter. But she didn't know it."
Astrid's breath caught. The weight of those words struck her like a blow, forcing her to shift slightly under its impact.
"When Elsa took her own life-" Gothi continued, her tone heavier now, "-so, too, did her unborn daughter perish. That soul…refused to move on. Refused to leave without its parents. She lingered, untethered to the world, but bound to them all the same. And so," Gothi turned her sharp gaze toward Astrid, "that child became the reason they returned. The cycle began again because of her."
The revelation sent Astrid's mind spinning, her throat tightening with the enormity of what she'd just heard.
Two minutes passed before she managed to find her voice again. "Will she…will she be born in this life?"
Gothi rolled her eyes with exaggerated dramatics, leaning heavily against her cane. "That," she replied sharply, "depends on yer foolish friend. Elsa's choices. Elsa's fear. Her defiance of what's written in the stars. The soul waits in the wings, but it cannot step onto the stage unless they play their parts."
Astrid's frustration flared, and she jabbed her finger toward Gothi accusingly. "Oh, come on! If Elsa hadn't been forced to see her past lives, none of this would've happened! Blame the visions, not her!"
For the first time, Gothi's smirk faded, replaced by something closer to thoughtfulness. Her voice dropped as she replied, "Perhaps ye're right. But even so…fear holds more weight than the past. And until fear is cast aside, the child's soul will remain just beyond reach."
For a long moment, the only sound between them was the rain pounding against the glass, its rhythm as chaotic as the thoughts swirling in Astrid's mind. She shifted her weight uneasily, her boots creaking against the old floorboards. The steady tap of Gothi's cane on the ground only seemed to stretch the silence.
Astrid gritted her teeth, her frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. But something else tugged at her now, a lingering question that wouldn't be ignored. Her fingers flexed instinctively on the haft of her axe before her voice broke the tension.
"My mother," she said, the words hesitant but firm. "How did you know her? Why did she come to you?"
For the briefest of moments, Gothi's sharp features softened. Her piercing gaze dimmed, and a strange flicker of something passed over her face. Regret? Nostalgia? It was gone before Astrid could name it. Gothi stepped closer, lifting one gnarled hand to brush her fingertips against Astrid's cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a strange contrast to her usual sharpness.
"For you, Astrid" she said, her voice soft, almost wistful.
The weight of those words hung in the air, sending shivers down Astrid's spine. Before she could respond or dig deeper, Gothi turned away, her expression once again inscrutable. She shuffled toward the window, leaning on her cane as though that brief show of vulnerability had stolen some of her strength.
"Any more questions?" she asked, her voice carrying a dismissive tone now, sharp as a blade meant to sever further inquiries.
Astrid's jaw tightened as she stepped forward, unwilling to let this slide. "Wait," she snapped, her voice growing louder. "What's that supposed to mean? For me? Don't get cryptic now! You know something about her, don't you?"
Gothi spun on her heel, her cane slamming down on Astrid's shin with unexpected force. The dull thud made Astrid hiss and step back, her temper flaring again.
"That's enough!" Gothi snapped, her tone cutting through the air like thunder. Her grip on the cane tightened as she glared at Astrid, her usual smirk replaced by a look of pure exasperation. "Yer time for answers is over, Hofferson. Now get out of my hut before ye make an old woman regret her patience."
"But-"
"Out!"
Before Astrid could argue, Gothi shoved her toward the door with surprising strength. The movement was so sudden that Astrid nearly stumbled, her boots skidding on the slick floor.
The door swung open behind her, and she stumbled out into the storm, the icy rain hitting her face like needles. The wind howled, drowning out her muttered curses as she spun back toward the door, her soaked hair clinging to her skin.
"Gothi!" Astrid shouted, her voice almost swallowed by the storm. "What? And my mother...what are you-"
The door creaked open just a crack, but instead of Gothi's face, Astrid was met by a sudden blur of motion. Her axe hurtled through the gap, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Instinct kicked in. Astrid's hand shot out, her reflexes honed by years of training. The weapon's familiar weight slammed into her palm, its sharp edge mere inches from slicing her face.
Her chest heaved as she stared at the closed door, her breath misting in the freezing air. Rain ran down her face, but she didn't care. Her grip tightened on the haft of her axe, her knuckles white with frustration.
"I swear to Valhalla!" she bellowed, her voice cracking under the weight of her anger. "I'll kill you one day, you miserable old hag!"
Inside, Gothi's sharp, raspy cackle echoed faintly, rising above the rain like some haunting melody.
Astrid stood motionless for a moment, the storm drenching her, her jacket soaked through and her breath coming fast and shallow. Her mind churned with everything she had learned, every cryptic answer, every half-revealed truth. And yet, somehow, the weight on her chest felt even heavier than before.
With a sharp exhale, she turned sharply and stomped back to her car, her boots splashing through icy puddles with every step. The axe remained clutched tightly in her fist, its blade glinting faintly as if mocking her futile effort.
The car door slammed shut behind her as she threw herself into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, the low rumble vibrating through her tense body.
She gripped the wheel tightly, staring out at the snowy rain-blurred windshield. The storm outside mirrored the chaos in her head; wild, unruly, and unrelenting. "Annoying woman," she muttered under her breath, her voice filled with venom. Her fingers flexed against the wheel before tightening again. "Fucking hate her."
Yet, even as she uttered the words, she couldn't ignore the weight of what Gothi had said, nor the unease that gnawed at her as she drove back into the storm.
The road back stretched ahead, dark and slick with rain, the headlights illuminating the winding path before her. The chill of the storm seeped into her bones, but it wasn't the cold that pressed against her chest.
It was the burden. The truth she carried now, silent and heavy, a stone lodged deep within her heart.
When she finally reached home, the place was quiet, lit only by the dim flicker of firelight visible through the window. As Astrid entered, the familiar warmth did little to comfort her. Elsa was still curled on the couch, her peaceful expression undisturbed by Astrid's storm-fueled return.
Astrid leaned the axe against the wall with a weary thud before sinking into a nearby chair. She rested her head in her hands, the weight of everything Gothi had said crashing down around her now that the storm outside was replaced by silence.
Her gaze flicked toward Elsa, her best friend who had unknowingly set all of this in motion. It wasn't her fault, Astrid knew that. But the road ahead felt impossibly uncertain now, and the answers they both sought still felt agonizingly out of reach.
One way or another, she vowed silently, she would help them. For Elsa, for Jack, and for their unborn daughter...a soul who had tied their fates in ways none of them could have foreseen.
But tonight, as the storm raged on outside, Astrid could do nothing but carry the burden and wait.