Morgan's Fate

Gods. It had been centuries.

Centuries.

How many mortal lives had she lived? She must have made some sort of sound, because Morgan held her tightly as she trembled with the knowledge that she’d been gone for so long. None of the gods had looked for her. Her own sisters had abandoned her. She’d been alone, lost, thought insane by those who didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand her nature.

“Shh. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Morgan’s warmth seeped into her, warming her cold bones. No matter what else happened, Morgan wouldn’t abandon her or forget her.

She wasn’t alone anymore and she basked in that knowledge, let it fill her from the inside out. “I know.”

Chapter Twelve

Morgan held tight to Skye’s hand as they walked along the Bifrost Bridge toward Asgard. Ahead of them, smaller paths led away from the bridge, both before and behind them. One was lined with frost, mist obscuring the road to Nifleheim, the land of the frost giants.

Another was lined with rock, stalagmites making the road to Jotunheim a treacherous one to walk. That the three Norns had come down that road and made their way alone to Yggdrasil spoke not only of their bravery but of their power. It was not a road anyone treaded lightly.

Behind them, the road to Svartalfaheim, the land of the dark elves, led to the road to Helheim. While the road to Svartalfaheim was filled with shadows, it wasn’t nearly as dark as the road to Helheim. That road was filled with a sorrowful wailing wind, the songs of the dead crying out as they descended into darkness and judgment, one he prayed he never had to travel. He shivered. As much as he enjoyed Logan’s company now that they’d overcome their apple-induced differences, Logan’s daughter’s realm could remain a nice, dark mystery, thank you very much.

On one side of Svartalfaheim was Vanaheim, the former home of the Vanir. That land was an interesting study in contrasts. Both light and dark, it embodied the attributes of both of the elven races. Muspelheim, the fiery land that Loki hailed from, sat opposite Vanaheim, across the bridge.

And in the center of all of it was the entrance to Midgard and the land of mortals, with the World Tree over them all. It was so huge that no matter where you were on the bridge, you always stood under its branches.

“We’ll have to pass through Alfheim to reach Heimdall and Asgard.” At the top of the bridge, past the land of the light elves, was the home of Heimdall. The Guardian would be waiting for them there. It was up to him whether or not they’d be allowed into Asgard. If they made it, they’d have to cross Asgard to Valhalla.

For Skye’s sake, Morgan hoped they wouldn’t have to fight their way there.

Travis kept looking behind them and frowning. “Where the hell is Hothead? He should be here by now.”

Kir shook his head. “The portal is closed. If he doesn’t catch up soon we’ll have to assume he didn’t make it.”

“Shit.” Travis shook his head. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

“Logan’s strong. He’ll be all right.”

Kir didn’t look nearly as convincing as he probably hoped he did.

Skye let go of Morgan’s hand to touch Kir’s back. “He’s probably running after us and cursing up a storm.”

Travis nodded. “Yup. For once, Blondie didn’t sit and stay.”

Kir shook his head, but some of the tension left his shoulders. “You’re probably right.” He blew out a breath and picked up his pace. “Let’s get through Alfheim. If he’s behind us, great. If he’s not, we’ll tell him how it went when we get back.”

Magnus was toying with Mjolnir, fingering the pendant over and over again. His brother wasn’t as calm as his expression said he was. “Look on the bright side. If he got left behind he’s not going to run into Heimdall.”

That did it. Kir grinned so wide Morgan thought his face would split. “Very true.”

The trip through Alfheim was uneventful. Skye watched everything with sad, wondering eyes. Part of her was seeing the beautiful blue-green fields for the first time.

The Norn of the Future was mourning her loss once more.

Morgan needed to wipe that look off her face. It tore at him, that she was so sad in such a lovely place. “Hey.”

She glanced over at him, her eyes huge, her face pale. Damn it, she was holding back tears.

He took her hand, caressing her fingers, and her expression brightened. It didn’t wipe away all of the pain in her expression, but it was a start.

Some of the denizens of Alfheim greeted them, more and more coming to watch as Baldur and Tyr marched side by side with Vali the Avenger. They understood something was up. That the Lord of the Vanir had come home in such company had them optimistically cautious if their actions were anything to go by. If they could see Kir and Travis, mighty leaders of the gods, fighting over the last bit of pizza, or Uncle Val cuddling with the new kitten he’d found in the dumpster last week, some of that hero worship might fade away.

Logan would have had a fit at the number of people who stopped them just to touch the sleeve of Kir’s shirt and offer their blessings. Maybe it was best he’d been left behind. By the time they got out of Alfheim he would have been a growly mess and Kir would have been grounded to his room for life.

Morgan chuckled quietly. That would go over real well.

“What’s so funny?” Skye’s voice was soft as yet another Lios Alfar stepped toward Kir, eager to touch him.

“The thought that Logan would ground Kir to his room for years if he saw this.”

She bit her lip. “Oh gods, he would, wouldn’t he?” She cleared her throat, no doubt trying to stop her laughter. “But if Logan has pizza ordered daily and Jordan stayed naked all the time—”

“Ugh.” Morgan gagged. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“And that baby in her belly came from under a cabbage patch, right.”

“Damn straight.”

“It’s a virgin birth.”

“Totally.”

Ahead of them, Val’s shoulders began to shake as if he, too, were stifling laughter.

Magnus shot them a disgusted look. “I saw them in the elevator, remember? There ain’t nothing virginal about our baby sister anymore.” He scrubbed his eyes as both Travis and Val lost it. “I still can’t get the vision of Logan and Kir’s asses out of my head.” He sniffled. “I have nightmares, bro. Nightmares.” He shuddered. “It was horrible. I think I have PTSD.” He grabbed Travis around the waist. “Hold me?”

Travis pushed him off. “Asshole.”

Something, or someone, dashed by them so quickly he couldn’t tell whether or not it was one of the Lios Alfar, killing the jovial mood Morgan and Magnus’s banter had created. “Damn. Who was that?” It had gone by so fast he couldn’t even tell if it was humanoid.

Kir scowled and picked up his pace, jogging toward the border and Heimdall. They were nearly to the edge of Alfheim and the last leg of their journey to Asgard and Valhalla. “If it was one of the Old Man’s lackeys, we’re in trouble.”

“Could it have been Hugin or Munin?” Skye was forced to run to keep up with the taller men surrounding her.

“Doubt it. They’re enchanted statues. They can’t change into men, only ravens.” Kir pulled Gungnir from the chain around his neck, the pendant growing until he held the Godspear in his hand.

“Who do we know that can run that fast?” Magnus pulled Mjolnir from his neck,