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He knew her power, had felt it caress his own in the past. He knew that if he followed the path of destruction, he would find her again. The only sound in his ears was the sound of his heart pounding against his ribs to the rhythm of his feet hitting the red-stoned floor beneath him.

Maude. Maude. Maude.

It was the only cadence Herrick needed. He needed to find his fire, his Maude.

He smelled the smoke before he saw the clouds of black billowing through the cracks of a secret door to the main halls. With little hesitation, Herrick pushed through the wall and found a deserted hallway with grand tapestries and gilded sculptures lining the alcoves. To his right, where the smoke was heaviest, he could hear the clashing of metal. To his left, hecould hear frantic footsteps belonging to soldiers coming to protect their King.

Herrick turned right, diving into the smoke and ash.

Bryn was still being dragged by the soldiers she had once commanded through the halls of the palace when the blast came from the other side of the grounds. Her uncle was in front of her, leading the way to the war room, when the ground shook beneath them.

Bryn had grinned. It meant that Maude was with their father.

She’ll kill him, and then we will all be free, she thought to herself.

Her uncle has assembled a small host of soldiers, ordering them to go with them to the war room. He told them their King was in danger of the collapse of the structure. She allowed herself to be dragged by the men she had trained, allowed herself to be dragged to her sister's side where they would rid this land of their poisonous father once and for all.

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Fire burned in the halls as their anger collided. Maude shoved off her father and his axe as he almost landed a blow to her ribs. She couldn’t get to thedalkr Hela, no matter how hard she tried to maneuver a way to her thigh. At some point, their fight had shifted to her defending herself rather than attacking.

Hergalderwas burning low; she was going to burn out if she didn’t finish this soon. She needed Herrick, needed his strength to embolden her own. They had always been stronger together. But she was glad he was not here as her father’s axe sliced across her upper shoulder, her blood pouring out onto the stone and making it slippery under her feet.

“You’re tired,dóttir,”the King of Flame panted, his exhaustion beginning to weigh him down.

“Never,” she breathed, a stitch in her side beginning to steal the breath from her lungs.

“You cannot win; you’ve already given in to your anger, and your burnout is close,” he said, giving her a knowing look.

Maude opened her mouth to speak when noise broke through their tense bubble.

Footsteps sounded from down the hall. It resembled a stampede of soldiers who were finally making their way to save their king. Maude was out of time.

She pulled thedalkr Helafree as the sound of footsteps grew louder. Using her airgalder, she pushed the smoke away from her and her father so she could land this final blow on him when he was distracted. Her father had one hand on his axe as it hung by his side, his head turned toward the disturbance as his absolute faith that his daughter would not hurt him guided his actions.

Now, it must be now, she thought.

Maude lunged, weapon raised.

Just to be brought to her knees by an arrow to her thigh. She slammed into the stone in front of her father, his axe now poised to cut her throat. Holding his eye and with her hands up in the air, fist still wrapped around the ice-cold hilt of thedalkr Hela, she stood and ignored the shock of pain that rolled through her when she put weight on her leg.

Storming down the hall was the General of Flame and a dozen soldiers. They were dragging two people with them, and as Maude turned to see the two prisoners, her power sparked once more in her chest.

One soldier held Bryn, her baby sister, by the throat with a knife angled at her heart, and two other soldiers held Herrick between them as he thrashed to get free, his eyes only on her.

Her uncle Ulf, the General of Flame, laughed as he spied Maude at the mercy of her father. He looked just as Maude remembered: weak and dirty, his rust-colored hair shining in the torchlight, and a cruel smile gracing his face.

“Well done, brother,” the King said to the General, nodding toward her sister and Herrick. “I see you have captured those who are guilty of sowing discord in our Heir Apparent.”

Herrick continued to thrash as Maude and Bryn locked eyes, still as the ash wood statues of the gods in the Temples of Odin.

Bryn has grown up, was all Maude thought as she stared at her sister for the first time in ten years.

Her copper hair was darker than their father's honeyed red, her limbs long and graceful like their mother's. She had runes tattooed down the side of her face in the same harsh black ink that marked Maude’s skin.

What she noticed the most was that Bryn’s hazel green eyes did not burn with hatred but rather widened with mutual wonder and love. Maude knew that her eyes shone the same heartbreaking love that mirrored Bryn’s. Fire burned in Maude’s veins at her sister's capture.

Bryn had not betrayed her; she had helped Maude get to this point.