Page 92 of Fallen Gods

The bark is rough beneath my hand as I trace the lines again. My throat feels dry. “If everything you’re saying is true and I find Mjölnir…can I wield it?”

She says nothing.

I glance down at her. “Canyou?”

Her teeth catch her lower lip, and she shrugs, hesitation written all over her tight jaw.

Could she wield it? How does a weapon weigh one’s worth? Her blood would call to the hammer…

Blood. In the Hall of Ormir, in the Ice Caves.

We bled.

Finally, she shrugs. “A truce for now. We work together until we find it. You have your reasons. I have mine. And once you’re fully awake and we find Mjölnir…” She nods, almost to herself.“We go back to our respective sides.”

“Back to our own enemy camps,” I say to myself.

She turns away, voice quieter now. “I don’t think we have a choice. Do you?”

I stare at the rune, at the darkness pressing in all around us. “Something tells me people die either way. I know I’m not supposed to care, but now that I taste this—the thunder, the lightning in my body, the way I can barely control myself without snapping? It’s not calming, Rey. It’s like standing on the edge of a storm that never ends.” I drag in a heavy breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you wake a sleeping Giant and the world rights itself. Maybe I kill Odin…and spare you.”

She lets out a sharp laugh, though her eyes don’t shine with humor. “Straight to murder, huh?”

“To avenge my parents, yes.”

“At least you’re honest about it.”

We both know all bets are off once we find Mjölnir, and we both know nobody walks away innocent in this age-old war. Nobody.

But I nod. Agreement. Truce.

I pull my tactical knife from my pocket, slice open my palm, and press it against the bark, where Hagalaz begins to glow. Blood seeps into the grooves. She doesn’t hesitate—taking my knife, she cuts her hand, too, pressing it beside mine against the bark.

The rune flares, blinding white. The tree hums with energy beneath our palms as if it’s breathing with us.

And then searing pain rakes down my back.

Chapter Forty-Five

Rey

Aric bends forward, heaving, shouting out in pain.

“Aric!” My hands fly to his shoulders, then his back, my gasp tearing through the night.

The sound of a branch snapping jolts us both out of the moment. We whirl toward the noise, my heart hammering, the rune still glowing behind us.

Before either of us can react, though, a figure in all black darts from the shadows, sprinting down the path. Their movements are fluid, fast—too fast. By the time I take a step forward, though, they’re already vanishing into the trees.

We don’t even bother chasing. We wouldn’t catch them.

Dread sinks into my belly. Just how much did that person see? And what were they doing following us?

“Too spry to be Professor Higgins, but still, add another person to the list,” I mutter, clutching my bleeding palm.

Aric frowns, breath uneven, seemingly from the pain he’s still in. “What list?”

I scan the dark campus. “Of people who don’t like our families.”