Betraying Destiny (The Omega Prophecy Book 3)

by Nora Ash

  “Stars above, no!” Mimir furrowed his bushy brows. “You wouldn’t have access to your powers, and your mates likely wouldn’t be able to speak with you without a medium present, much less use your connection to battle Ragnarök. No, I’m afraid your physical manifestation is entirely necessary.”

  “So ghostly passage isn’t going to help us after all?” I clarified, frowning at the prophet, who still looked much too excited for what sounded like completely useless concept.

  “It could. If…” He looked at me. “Freya said you needed your five mates with you to free yourself from this place?”

  I frowned deeper. “Well… she said I might have a chance if they were all with me.”

  “But for that, we need to alert the four above of your whereabouts, and the urgency in joining you,” Mimir said, though from the distant expression on his face, I wasn’t sure he was talking to me as much as himself.

  “Wait, are you suggesting we send a ghost to inform Magni, Modi, Saga, and Bjarni to… what, kill themselves?” I croaked.

  “Oh, don’t be dramatic, plum,” Mimir chided. “They are gods. They do not need to die to visit Hel, as proven by your grumpy mate when he brought you here. Leaving can get a tad more complicated, without the right kind of magic—or Hel’s blessing—but if you six can channel that power Freya left you and create a path home, we should all be able to leave the same way.”

  “Should?” I repeated.

  “Should.” He gave me a mild smile. “It is not an exact science. But I am wagering, if given the choice, your mates would not hesitate to risk being stuck in Hel with you if the alternative is a lifetime apart. Even if the dark Lokisson believes he can sever your bonds to them.”

  I chewed on my lip as I weighed his words. Every instinct in me screamed to not even give them the option. As much as I longed for each and every one of them, the thought of dooming them to share my fate in this joyless place filled me with a deep sense of dread.

  But they would come; I knew that without a shadow of a doubt. If there was a way, if they knew how, they would come for me.

  “All we need now is to find a willing messenger,” Mimir said.

  “You mean someone who’s happy to be stuck for an eternity in some in-between plane?” I asked. “How can we even ask someone to do that? It sounds like… well, an eternity of lonely misery.”

  “Worse, anyone desperate enough to consider such a fate would be doing it for their own purposes,” Mimir mumbled, definitely mostly to himself this time. “There would be no guarantee they would even make the effort to find your godlings once there.”

  “I’m not sure that classes as worse,” I said tartly. He ignored me.

  A soft caw drew our attention to Magga. She looked to her brother, who tilted his head and clacked his beak as he returned her stare.

  The female ruffled her feathers and cawed again. “We will do it,” she said.

  I blinked. Twice. “You? You… volunteer? To…?” It probably wasn’t the politest response, but the shock of her offer made the words spill out before I could stop myself. From what little I knew of the Lokissons’ ravens, self-sacrifice wasn’t exactly in their nature.

  Arni hissed. “It could be said that the place between is a preferable place to Hel for a raven. So many whispers we can gather while few are the wiser of our presence.”

  “And we can haunt that bastard Loki until his dying breath,” Magga added, her eyes gleaming with vicious glee.

  Arni bobbed his head in agreement.

  “But… won’t you be lonely?” I asked.

  “We need no one but each other,” Magga cawed.

  “And the occasional medium to share our whispers,” Arni added. “If we cannot return to the living, a spectral presence is far preferable to…. this.”

  “Gorbul is a prick,” Magga hissed. “Beady-eyed tyrant.”

  “Gorbul?” I asked.

  “The leader of the ravens here,” Arni explained with a sigh. “He only gained speech after entering Hel, but insists he should lead those of us with superior breeding.”

  “And his mate refuses to make room on the branches,” Magga muttered.

  I didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so I didn’t.

  “We would be very grateful for your sacrifice,” Mimir said instead. “All nine worlds would. If you are certain, I gladly accept your offer.”

  “We are certain,” Arni said with another bob of his head. “We will leave as soon as the transformation is complete.”

  All three of them looked to me.

  I frowned. “Er… I don’t know how to make someone a ghost, if that’s what you’re waiting for?”

  “Another dead soul needs to call their spirits out of their physical manifestation,” Mimir explained patiently. “Come now, before Grim returns. I will guide you.”

  I hesitated. “Does it… require me to use my magic?”

  “Yes,” Mimir said. “But not much. You should have plenty left.”

  I bit my lip, weighing my options. I wasn’t too close to being drained, and normally I wouldn’t have hesitated, but the little one in my womb needed me to conserve strength. I didn’t know how much I could use without hurting her.

  “This is our very last shot, Annabel,” Mimir said softly.

  He was right. I closed my eyes and steadied myself with a deep breath. If there was any possible chance of escaping this place, of not making my child grow up without color and warmth and laughter, then I had to try. I would just have to be cautious.

  “Okay. Guide me.”

  “Touch both of them,” Mimir said, “and call on their spirits through your magic.”

  Both ravens hopped closer, and I placed a hand on each of them and closed my eyes.

  My magic swirled up to meet me, and I threaded it through my conscience and opened my mind.

  Magga. Arni. Come.

  A touch of something mirthful and sharp brushed against my magic, tugging on it. I kept a tight leash on the glow within, using Grim’s teachings to keep the flow steady and focused.

  “Again, plum. Keep calling them,” Mimir said.

  Arni. Magga. Come. Come. Come. Be free of this place. Come.

  I opened the flow of my magic a little wider. The mirthful presence seemed to amplify.

  “What are you doing?” The shout cracked like thunder from somewhere outside my magic. “Annabel!”

  I would recognize that voice anywhere—Grim.

  “Hurry, plum,” Mimir urged as cool darkness wrapped around my magic. “Hurry!”

  He was going to stop us. I yanked harder on my magic, forced it out as I called for the ravens over and over.

  That dark, balmy magic penetrated mine as Grim closed his strong hands around my shoulders, shaking me. “Stop, Annabel—now! Stop!”

  But he was too late. A ripple of release went through my mind, and I opened my eyes to see the translucent outlines of Magga and Arni rise out of their bodies over Grim’s shoulder.

  “Too late, Misborn!” Magga cawed triumphantly as they beat their spectral wings up, up, up, invisible winds carrying them into the sky.

  But Grim paid them no mind. His eyes were on me, wild and furious. “What did you do?” he snarled.

  “It’s none of your concern,” I rasped. My head felt light, as did my body.

  “None of my concern?” he echoed, dark brows drawing down. “You used too much of your power for whatever harebrained scheme you were attempting!”

  I had. I’d given up my control at the end to ensure the ravens escaped before Grim could stop me, and I had used more of my power than I’d intended. A flicker of worry wormed its way through my mind as I let a hand rest against my abdomen. I didn’t feel anything wrong—but then again, would I? She was still so tiny.

  “And you,” Grim snarled, pulling me from my worries as he rounded on Mimir. “It’s always you, isn’t it? Every time she runs, every time she puts herself in danger, it’s because of you—you and your hopeless attempts at stopp
ing the inevitable. You of all people should know that there is no point in fighting him. And there is no point fighting me.

  “You have risked her one too many times, prophet. Always weaving your schemes, your plots—giving no thought to the lives of the people you draw in. Is it not enough that you yanked her from her family with your prophecy? You continue to burden her at every step! Enough. If you refuse to accept defeat, then I will make sure you have no other choice.”

  Dark power rose around Grim, and my gut lurched with realization.

  “No!” I pushed my own floundering magic at him, tried to stop him before he could do any harm, but even at my strongest I was no match for Grim. My light slid off his darkness, leaving not so much as a dent.

  Grim jerked his head to me, eyes wide and furious. “Stop! Do not give any more of yourself! You know the consequences.”

  He meant forced sex. Even now, despite his fury, despite what he had done—was still going to do—he didn’t want to force me. He was desperate to avoid it.

  But violation was not the only consequence of emptying my energy. Not anymore.

  Reluctantly, I pulled my magic back from his and placed a trembling hand on his thigh. “Please, Grim. Don’t hurt him. Please.”

  Grim bared his teeth at me, but his magic held still in the air around him. “He is nothing to you. He is the reason you were pulled into this mess to begin with. Without his prophecy, Loki would never have made his bargain, and you would have been with your family now. And yet you wish to spare him, when he continues to risk your life? Your heart may be soft, Annabel, but I did not think you stupid.”

  “Without his prophecy, without my Fate woven into its current path, I would still have been your soulmate,” I said quietly. “There was never any escape for me, even without Ragnarök swallowing the nine worlds. Don’t take your anger out on him for still trying to do the right thing, even if you have given up. What I have done to return to Asgard, I have done of my own free will. If you punish him for trying to find a way home, you should punish me as well.”

  Grim stared at me in silence for several breaths, and the expression on his cold features was… stricken, as if my words cut through his ice and into something soft and vulnerable.

  “I would never have come for you,” he finally said. “I would have let you live a human life in oblivion.”

  “Then you would have deprived me of half my soul,” I said. “You would have taken what belongs to me for your own selfish reasons.”

  A grimace cut over his face, and the power around him pulsed and swelled. “Deprived you? I would have gifted you a lifetime without darkness!” Grim turned back to Mimir with a sharp jerk, nostrils pulled up in rage. “Don’t ever attempt to help her escape again, and don’t so much as think about persuading her to use her powers for your nefarious schemes! No amount of her begging will sway me a second time.”

  Without another look at either of us, Grim swung around and stomped across the clearing, disappearing into the trees again, undoubtedly to stew.

  “Such a temper,” was all Mimir said, his voice completely calm, as if he hadn’t just been threatened with the very real prospect of annihilation.

  I didn’t respond. Couldn’t—because Grim’s eyes still danced in my mind. So anguished. So filled with regret. And behind it, behind the darkness, the rage… despair.

  He may think himself nothing but darkness and ice, may think our soul connection a curse for me, but there was a glimmer of humanity buried deep. Despite what he’d done, despite his heritage and broken spirit, he despaired at what he believed he had to do—and that it ruined any chance that I may… love him.

  Grim craved my love, enough that he had stopped himself from harming Mimir because I’d begged him.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with this realization. It hadn’t been enough for him to push his convictions aside, hadn’t been enough to stop him from murdering Freya.

  And it wasn’t enough for me to forgive what he’d done.

  But something in my innermost trembled at that look in his eyes, those jagged edges of my soul calling out for its other half.

  Twenty

  Saga

  The wind howled as the tempest battering my body did its best to rip me off the mountainside to plummet into the depths below.

  It had taken us weeks to get to Verdandi’s peak. The only portal to Jotunheim that had shown up on our map had seen us trekking over the Spine through a blizzard so violent I would never have so much as contemplated braving the climb for anything other than our current quest.

  Annabel.

  The last time Magni and I had made the journey up this mountain, it had been because of her as well—before Ragnarök had truly sunk its claws into Jotunheim and he and I had squabbled like children over their favorite toy.

  Purple light flashed high above our heads, sending a shock of electricity through the air and pulling Bjarni—who had taken up the lead—to a stop.

  “Your dad?” he roared over the shrieking gale.

  “No,” Modi shouted, pointing at the sky. “That is not our father. That… That is the end.”

  I followed his finger with my eyes and drew in a sharp breath. The thick charcoal clouds that had choked out the sun since the beginning of our journey parted around a purple tear in the cover, and through that tear…

  “Is that… Jörmungandr?” Magni choked.

  “The fabric between the worlds is starting to shred. That is Midgard,” Modi said as the giant sea serpent reared up through a violent sea, spraying venom into the sky. I couldn’t make out the city its acid fell on through the fissure, but judging by the faint outline of skyscrapers behind the monster, the loss of human life would be significant.

  “Press on,” I roared, tearing my gaze from the rift between worlds.

  We continued up the mountainside until we finally stood in front of Verdandi’s obsidian cave carved to resemble a dragon’s open maw. Even the howling of the wind could do nothing to drown out the horrendous shriek emitting from its dark throat.

  “You’re sure she lives down there?” Bjarni shouted. “That thing looks like it’s gonna break free from the mountain and take flight any moment.”

  “It’s a cave. Nothing more,” I said through gritted teeth. If I hadn’t been down there before, I would have been less convinced.

  Modi looked about as skeptical as Bjarni, but they both followed me and Magni as we made our way through the dragon’s stone teeth.

  The darkness swallowed us after the first two turns, leaving nothing but the eternal howl and a creeping, bone-clattering chill that sank through our clothes and deep into our flesh. It wasn’t as aggressive as the icy cold of the mountainside, but it brought a kind of damp, slithering dread that only increased the farther down the dragon’s throat we walked. Before we had taken many steps, both Magni and Modi called to their magic to illuminate our path.

  Time was an unreliable companion in this place, and I wasn’t certain how much passed as we made our way down. It could have been perhaps half an hour, perhaps six when the lack of life became concerning.

  “Verdandi!” Magni called. His voice echoed through the cave, up and down through the length of the dragon’s throat. Only that infernal howling answered.

  “Hell of a time to go on vacation,” I growled.

  “What if she is not here?” Modi said so quietly I barely heard him over the screeching.

  I grimaced. If the Norn wasn’t in her cave, then… “She is here. She has to be,” I bit. “Onward.”

  We called the Norn’s name over and over as we walked, with nothing but our own echoes answering, and that quiet terror growing stronger the deeper we went.

  I will never stop trying, sweetling. Not ever.

  “What in Freya’s name is that?”

  Modi’s voice broke through my quiet oath, and I let my gaze follow the glow of light from his hand as he held it out in front of him.

  A gossamer veil hung on wooden beams in front of the naked
rock blocking our path.

  “Looks like it’s the end of the road,” Bjarni said.

  “Or not,” Magni murmured as he stepped closer to the veil. “This… Is this a portal? It feels magical, but… odd. I have never seen something like this.”

  I closed the gap between us, my focus on the fabric. It hung limp from its rafters, but when I was so near I could have reached out to touch it, I too felt a soft, nearly imperceptible hum. It whispered to my subconscious, whispered of otherness and forbidden power. The longer I studied it, the more the small hairs on my body stood on end.

  “Do you remember,” I began slowly, “when the Norn took Annabel? Shortly after, it felt… almost like it did when you tried to take her to Jotunheim without me. As if she was ripped from my reality.”

  “You think she took her through here?” Magni asked. From the way he clenched his light-free fist to his chest, I knew he remembered it too.

  “Where else would she have taken her? The path has no divergence—this is the only way they could have come,” I reasoned.

  “So it is a portal,” Bjarni said. He shouldered past both of us and looked it up and down. “Then what are we waiting for? Come on.”

  I opened my mouth to caution him against that low, warning hum prickling against my own magic, but I didn’t get the chance. My brother lifted his arms to brush the veil aside and stepped through—and smacked right into the stone wall behind it.

  “Fuck!” Bjarni rubbed his nose and turned to glare at the portal. “What is wrong with this thing?”

  “Perhaps it requires a toll, like the portal that brought us to Asgard,” I suggested. I looked closer at the old wood and frowned. There didn’t appear to be any runes or symbols carved on them, nor on the surrounding stone.

  Modi and Magni followed the path of my eyes, scanning the structure as closely as I, but after more than an hour’s scrutiny, none of us had found anything that might help us figure out how to use the damned thing.

  “Blast it! How are we supposed to find that cursed Norn if we can’t get to her?” Bjarni growled, smacking his palm against the wood hard enough for it to creak in protest.