A Glimmer of Hope (The Avalon Chronicles #1)(38)

“If I accept you, does that mean I’ll accept your ability to murder without pause?”

“You think I didn’t pause? You think I didn’t see the faces of those lives I’ve taken? You’re unbelievably wrong. I killed because I had no choice, but I never took pleasure in it. I just did what was needed. If you accept me, then yes, maybe you’ll be able to kill without crying yourself to sleep that first night, or scrubbing your skin for so long it bleeds. Maybe you’ll be able to rest knowing you did some good. Or maybe you won’t. I don’t know. But know this: the world you now reside in will destroy you and spit you out if you’re not willing to do what you need to do.”





14

The world around Layla changed to white and she found herself atop a large hill. A gradual curve down one side ended at the flatness of the beach a few hundred feet in front of her. Several dozen longboats sat on the dark sands, their sails blowing in the strong wind.

She saw no one inside the wooden boats, nor anyone close by. She took a few steps forward.

The grass was several inches high and caressed the backs of her calves. She wore a dark blue dress that stopped just above the knee, and black Adidas trainers. An outfit she’d worn the previous summer at a party Chloe had dragged her along to. It had been a fun time. She had no idea why she was wearing it now, though.

“It’s a comforting thing, that dress,” a woman said, as she appeared further down the hill. The woman paused and glanced back at the ships, before walking toward Layla. She was taller than Layla by several inches and had many scars across one of her bare arms. They crisscrossed over one another. Her long blonde hair was tied behind her head, although strands of it had broken loose and were batting around in the wind.

The woman’s skin was pale, and she wore an ankle-length red dress with a burgundy apron-like dress over the top, which was clasped on her shoulders. Layla instantly knew it was called a hangerock. A rope, golden in color, was tied around her waist. She wore no jewelry that Layla could see, and thick leather boots adorned her feet. She drew a long sword from the sheath on her hip and stopped in front of Layla.

“My name is Gyda,” she said. “I’m the spirit that took control of you in the compound.”

“Thank you for getting me out alive.”

Gyda shrugged. “That was nothing. Couldn’t let Rosa do it, she only likes to kill from the shadows.”

“You don’t like Rosa?”

Gyda shrugged again. “She’s not bad, at least as far as assassins go. Fighting shouldn’t be done with a blade to the back. It should be done face to face. Anything else is just . . . well, it feels wrong to me.”

Layla wasn’t sure she agreed with Gyda. If you’re forced to fight, win. It was another of her father’s many lessons, but one that she actually found herself agreeing with. “So, I guess you’ll tell me about yourself.”

“My name is Gyda. I was born in the city of Darim in the dwarven realm of Nidavellir.”

“Dwarven realm?”

“You would call them the Norse dwarves. Dwarves from mythology.”

“Wait, like Odin and Thor? That kind of mythology? So these dwarves are the ones from the stories of gods and goddesses?”

Gyda stared at her. “What other dwarves from mythology are there?”

“But they’re just stories.”

“You have three spirits living in your head, as well as a demon. You can control metal to your whim. Why is it so hard to believe that the characters from mythology are in fact real? The stories aren’t necessarily accurate—I knew that even before I took a spirit scroll—but the people in them are.”

“So, you lived in a different realm?”

“Earth realm is the center, and all around it are hundreds of other realms, all linked to earth. Each realm is a separate world. This world, my home, is here. Nidavellir.”

“And humans live here?”

“Lived. Humans haven’t lived here in centuries. At least not to my knowledge. I was the first person given the scrolls. I had only the demon to deal with, and it drove me insane. It broke me and I refused to accept it. Obviously it’s easier now, because there are three of us to help, but back then, there was nothing and no one who could help me. I volunteered to help the dwarves create the spirit scrolls. In hindsight, it was a mistake.”

“What did you do?”

Gyda pointed to the tree line, which began to glow a fiery orange, until part of it exploded. Wood rained down over the landscape as trees collapsed into one another, causing a domino effect as several more succumbed to the force exerted on them.

Screams were carried by the wind as Gyda, covered head to toe in incandescent flame, burst through the remains of the trees, sprinting toward Layla. Gyda ran past and continued until she reached the water. She dove in, screaming as the flames refused to die, crying out for help every time she resurfaced.

“I couldn’t get the flames to stop,” the spirit of Gyda said from beside Layla. “They didn’t hurt, I just panicked. The demon kept telling me that I would kill everyone I loved. That I would burn them to a cinder. It showed me visions of a future I was sure would come to pass.”

“Did they come true?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Whether those visions came to pass because it said so, or because I was destined to do it, I don’t know. My husband tried to help me, but the fire that didn’t hurt me incinerated him in an instant. Twelve people died in seconds for the crime of being good people who tried to help me.