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The male chuckled, the sound pleasantly skittering over my bones. I turned to leave anyway, taking a few steps toward the trees that would lead me back to town. Only when I reached the shadows of the tall pines did the male speak again.

"My name is Aeric, fair huntress of the woods. What is yours? "

I paused as his name settled in me, a sense of rightness warming my muscles and loosening my tongue.

Looking over my shoulder, I said, "I am Sylvi."

Aeric smiled then, the one side of his lips tipping up before the rest of his supple mouth. It was enough of a sight that I forgot I was needed back in town. The way he smiled was like the brightest of full moons, blinding and beautifully distracting.

"Until next time, Sylvi."

Maude thought her heart was going to explode if she had to climb any higher on this mountain.

They had finally reached the last incline before the entrance to Hilgafell would be shown.

Already, the mists thickened around them as they cut through the thick forest. Maude thought that with how high they had climbed, these mists were actually the clouds in the sky, and that was why the gods felt so at home on this mountain.

Her feet had become numb hours ago, so she continued to pick one foot up at a time, keeping her head down so she wouldn't trip on any stray roots or fallen branches.

Hakon had already tripped twice, and Maude had tripped once, the tricky evergreens acting as an obstacle to delay their entry to the temples.

Though Maude internally griped about her exhaustion, she could see that the others in her group were also growing weary of their hike.

Out of everyone she traveled with, only Herrick and her father seemed unperturbed by the grueling exercise.

Through her peripheral vision, Maude tried to gauge how the General of Rivers might be feeling after their disastrous encounter in her bedroom the night before.

She found nothing out of the ordinary about his behavior other than how he ignored her while clinging to her shadow the closer they got to Hilgafell.

It was like they were in the same standoff as when they sailed back to Nida— their constant confrontations as ever-present as their attraction to each other. The only thing she couldn't be sure of was which situation would rip them apart first .

Sweat drenched each of her companions, loose hairs sticking to foreheads and chests panting with the last of their energy as a tall wooden fence appeared in front of them, as if it had suddenly sprung up from the ground when she blinked.

Smooth, silver birch trunks had been bound together by twine and packed with mud and moss to create an impregnable barricade that extended out to either side of their path for longer than the eye could see.

The typically rough bark of the birchwood was smooth under Maude's fingers as she ran them up the trunk closest to her.

How many hands had been equally as reverent when they reached their people's sacred ground that it smoothed out the bark's rough edges?

Before them, the archway that would allow them to pass into Hilgafell was empty.

The path beyond it was deserted as well, even though Maude could swear the trickle of laughter occasionally broke through along with the divine smell of cooked boar.

She tried to pass through the open archway, but as soon as Maude became aware of the barrier, she was unable to move.

Frozen side by side, Maude and her friends seemed to have reached an invisible line in the dirt that was keeping them from continuing past the gates of what she assumed was Hilgafell.

"We've arrived," her father said quietly, his silver eyes blazing as he took in the surprisingly simple fence that separated them from holy ground. "Leave your weapons; you will not be allowed to bring them into Hilgafell."

Aeric removed his twin axes from his belt— the same ones Maude had read about in her mother's journals— and laid them on the ground.

Slowly, everyone began to disarm. Herrick shot her a look that she could feel mirrored her own— they were stepping onto unknown ground, undefended and vulnerable.

She gave him a small shrug before she slipped her quiver off her back and rested it against a tree, her bow following quickly along with her sword and axe.

When Maude reached her thigh, the dagger her mother had given her still strapped in its resting place this last decade, she hesitated.

Even when Maude was in the fighting pits, she didn't remove this dagger from her person.

She always thought that Sigurd had let it slide because he knew she could have a short temper, but now Maude thought that he might not have known it was ever there in the first place.

Perhaps, unintentionally, Maude had been glamouring the weapon from Sigurd's sight the way Liv glamoured her Elven features.

"Maude?" Gunnar asked from beside her.

She looked over her shoulder to find everyone waiting for her to remove her dagger from her thigh. As she reached down to withdraw the knife from her thigh, panic gripped her lungs and squeezed.

She couldn't leave it out here. Weapons could always be replaced, but this dagger? The red silk wrapped around the handle faded from years of wear and sun reminded her of the enemy, of her mission. She couldn't part with it.

So when Maude kneeled in the damp soil, rather than place the dagger with the rest of her weapons, Maude dove into her galder and searched for a way to hide the knife on her person.

To her great surprise, when she grasped onto her galder , a surge of power she didn't know she possessed flooded her, bringing the solution to the front of her mind like a bright flame in a dark room.

Maude quickly flicked her fingers, bringing the shadows from between the leaves to her will. Before anyone could notice her delay, Maude slipped the real dagger into her bodice and looked down to find a replica of her blade sitting on the ground—a weapon made of shadow.

Finally, she slipped her boots off, as the others had, and joined her friends again.

Her father nodded to her once, the silver in his eyes seeming to pulse in the dense cover of the birch trees surrounding them.

Maude gave him a small smile, her lips tilting up in one corner when she reached his side.

She stopped short as she realized her father usually smiled the same way— one side tipping up before the rest of his mouth as if his lips were reluctant to show emotion.

Just like she had read in her mother's journals.

Beneath her feet, the forest floor was surprisingly cool as the soil rose between her toes, reminding her of the vulnerability that was expected of travelers coming to the Temple of the Gods.

Aeric had briefed them all on what to expect when they arrived, but it did not compare to what was unfolding before Maude's eyes.

In the previously empty archway stood a robed figure, their hood pulled over their head to deepen the shadows that concealed their face.

The mists around them deepened just as the sounds of the forest disappeared.

No longer could she hear the chirping of birds or scurrying of animals hidden in the brush because this anonymous figure had sucked all of the life out of the forest as they motioned them all forward.

Aeric charged ahead first, ever the fearless leader her mother had written so fondly about, and kneeled in front of the stranger.

Maude quickly followed, Herrick close at her side.

Only when they all mirrored her father's position, knees in the dirt and palms open to the sky on his thighs, did the person speak.

"Welcome, weary travelers, to the resting place of the gods," they said, their voice old and young, male and female. "To be granted passage, you must first accept the gods with blood and spirit."

Well, that doesn't sound pleasant , Maude thought bitterly to herself.

But she only nodded along with everyone else before repeating the words her father had instructed them to say, "I accept the gods in blood and spirit."

Her friends all repeated the phrase in time with her.

The seer turned to face her first as soon as the words left her tongue.

Maude couldn't see the seer's face, but she knew they were looking at her, sensing her distrust of this place.

Easing her fluttering chest, Maude kept her eyes downcast and willed herself to be pliant enough to gain entry.

Instead of speaking again, the seer pulled out a small bowl and a sprig of rosemary.

At some unspoken signal, an acolyte in similar robes appeared from beyond the fence, tugging at a rope that had a small goat at the end of it.

The young acolyte, a boy no older than ten, handed an ancient knife to the seer.

Maude had no time to prepare before the sharp edge of the silver blade sliced the goat's jugular.

A fountain of blood burst from the arteries of the animal, staining the heavy mist red as the seer moved to hold the small bowl under the cascading life leaving the goat.

When they started to chant in their off-setting voice, the hair on the back of Maude's neck stood on end.

Goosebumps broke out on her skin as the wind picked up, and her braid began to lift at the ends with the force of the gusts.

And still, the seer continued their chanting.

Until all at once, the wind stopped, and the air became still again .

The seer moved to lower their hood, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Their face exposed to them all, they looked the way her father had described: shaved head, black paint smudged under their eyes the way warriors would paint their faces for battle, that same black paint rubbed over their mouths, and a large piece of smooth wood shaped like Odin's weapon— the Gungnir Spear— pierced through their bottom lip.

However, the feature that Maude was struggling to digest, though her father had warned her, was the thick, scarred eye sockets that had been stitched closed many years ago when this acolyte had become a seer.

"Do you accept the Allfather, Odin, with your blood and spirit?" The seer asked, their strange cadence settling over Maude the way thick incense would muddle her senses.

"I do," they all responded.

As soon as they spoke, the seer dragged the sprig of rosemary through the sacrificial blood and splattered it over each of their faces once with a sharp flick of his wrist.

"Do you accept Freyr, Frigga, and Tyr?"

"I do," they all repeated. Blood splattered Maude's face again, the sticky liquid heavy on her skin.

"Do you accept Freyja, Thor, Balder, and Heimdal?"

"I do." One last spray of blood coated her face.

Tension broke amongst her friends, but the seer had not moved from their spot in front of her, keeping Maude's bones locked in place. It seemed her part of the ritual was not over.

Quietly, so no others could hear the seer's words to Maude, they whispered to her, "And do you accept Hela herself into your blood and spirit, Daughter of Shadows?"

Paralyzed, Maude could only lift her eyes to the seer in front of her. She took in their mangled eyes and wondered what they were seeing in their chosen darkness that Maude couldn't. Rather than allow her curiosity to win over her, Maude hardened her face before responding.

"No. "

The seer nodded once, the movement so slight that Maude wasn't sure they had done it at all before they stepped back and out of their path.

With one robe swathed arm, the seer motioned for them to pass beyond the fence protecting the Temple of the Gods and the resting land for weary travelers such as themselves.

As soon as Maude crossed over the threshold of the fence, the sounds of large traveling parties and the smells of food cooking overwhelmed her.

On either side of the path that led up to the Temple of the Gods were groups of other travelers.

Some smaller than theirs and some larger had set up campsites and cookfires.

Groups of worshippers laughed and cheered, their horns spilling over with mead and ale that only added to the chaotic mix of scents that pummeled Maude as she stepped further into the sacred land.

Every few yards, wooden archways constructed of the same birchwood lined the path to the temple.

Each arch was decorated in honor of one of the gods: some were draped in cloth that billowed in the gentle wind, their bright colors calling to Heimdall; rings of keys hanging from their beams for Frigga; flickering flames of gold, blue, yellow, and purple burned at the bases of some arches for Tyr; wildflowers entwined in the birch for Balder; forest cats whose grey and silver long hair blended with the white bark lounged at arches for Freyja as their watchful green eyes tracked their movements.

Everywhere she looked, Maude saw something that symbolized the gods they worshipped.

The temple itself, however, was the grandest thing she had ever seen.

Its shining golden roof broke through the tree line, the sun that had been eaten by the thick canopy of leaves now beaming brightly on the resting place of the gods.

It was a beacon to worshippers who climbed the perilous mountainside in search of peace.

To Maude, it was the final blockade that kept her from the hands of the gods and the fate the Norns wove for her.

Before her, Bryn and Herrick appeared, their awed faces appropriate considering the galder that hid this entire scene from those outside. Aeric stopped at her side, his presence a surprisingly soothing balm to Maude's fraying nerves.

"Welcome to Hilgafell. "

Though his words were warm, Maude felt a chill run down her spine.

As he and the rest of her friends moved around her to step further into the sacred space, Maude remained frozen on the edge.

The fact that she was the Heir of Shadows hadn't been shared made the title she had been given at the gates all the more chilling. Daughter, not Heir.

The distinction felt ominous as the seer's words echoed in her ears with a sense of wrongness she couldn't quite identify yet.

And do you accept Hela herself into your blood and spirit, Daughter of Shadows?