Chapter Nineteen Mist

B y the time Baldr and I had agreed on what questions to ask, he was ready to start the ritual.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked one last time. “I know how tired you are.”

“I’m sure,” he nodded. “This spell shouldn’t take too much out of me. Hopefully.”

I shook my head, the anxiety gripping my chest. “I hope you’re right.”

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“And I just wipe the rune from your forehead when I want to break the spell? There’s nothing else to it, right?”

“That’s all it takes.”

“I just… I can’t read that spellbook if something goes wrong and I don’t want you to get hurt–”

“Mist,” Baldr said, cutting me off. He reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “It’s going to be alright, I promise. There’s not a lot of risk involved in a spell like this.”

“I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me,” he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine.

I allowed myself for a moment to get lost in his touch. The way his lips felt against mine sent a bolt of electricity through my body. Most of that energy seemed to pool in my groin, although it was totally not the time for something like that. But I couldn’t help it. After spending all those years touch-starved in my magical prison, the slightest graze from Baldr got my heart racing. I loved it and feared it all at the same time. He was quickly becoming so precious to me that I didn’t want to let him out of my sight.

“Now let’s get this over with so we can get out of here,” Baldr said, pulling away from me at last.

“Alright,” I replied breathlessly, the taste of him still on my lips. I took a step back. “I’m ready when you are.”

Baldr nodded, taking a deep breath to center himself. He pricked his finger with a fang that had emerged for that purpose, letting a drop of blood fall onto the open page of the spellbook. Then he began chanting in a language I didn't understand, his voice low and rhythmic. The air around us seemed to grow heavy, charged with an unseen energy that made the hair on my arms stand up. It almost felt like a thunderstorm was coming, a bad one, but we were underground. However, that didn’t stop the glowing mushrooms from trembling as if thunder rumbled through the air.

As Baldr continued the incantation, his eyes began to glow with an eerie blue light. The blood on the page started to move of its own accord, forming intricate patterns before coalescing into a single rune. With one final word, Baldr pressed his bloodied finger to his forehead, tracing the rune there.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Baldr's body went rigid, his back arching as if pulled by invisible strings. He let out a strangled gasp before the rune on his forehead turned bright gold, filling the ruins with its light. I had to hold up a hand to shield my eyes. But once it finally died down, I found myself staring into the now hollow glowing white eyes of Baldr. The air around me turned cold, and I saw a faint white mist like fog rolling out of his mouth as if his insides were made of ice.

I opened my mouth to say his name, but then I clamped it shut. He’d told me not to tell the spirit his name. Forcing myself to stay quiet, I stared at him, waiting for the first sign that someone or something had moved into his body and was ready to answer my questions.

Finally, the possessed Baldr tilted his head, regarding me with those glowing white eyes. When he spoke, it was with a voice that was not his own - deeper, more resonant, with an otherworldly echo. And the accent was unlike anything I’d ever heard before.

“Who calls upon the spirits of this realm?” the entity asked with Baldr’s lips.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “I do,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I seek guidance.”

“You did not cast this magic,” it replied, giving me a good once over. “Who calls me?”

“The witch who cast the spell used themselves as the conduit,” I said. “Now answer my questions.”

The spirit nodded slowly. “Ask your questions, mortal. But choose wisely, for you have only five.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. We had agreed on the most important things to ask. “First, where are we?”

“You are in the ruins of Asgard, the realm of the Aesir gods,” the spirit replied. “These dungeons lie deep beneath what was once a great city, abandoned long ago when the gods ceased to exist.”

“Why did the gods—” I began, but clamped my lips tight just in time. “I mean… How do we get out of this realm back to our home?”

The spirit regarded me for a moment. “You are from Midgard and you are bound to wolfkin.”

I nodded slowly, not having any idea how the spirit could figure something so complicated just by looking at me.

“Wolfkin and their mates can use the mouth of Fenrir to travel the realms. The Bifrost is long since shattered, but Fenrir’s power remains intact. Follow the river to its source. There you will find your way home.”

“Thank you spirit.”

“Three more questions child.”

The next question was a bit more on the personal side for Baldr, but I was more than happy to give it to him. I could feel his worry percolating in the back of his head and I knew it was important to him. Besides, if I were in his position, I’d want to ask the same thing.

“Is my mate’s brother Loki still alive?”

The spirit looked skyward, the glowing white eyes closing for a few seconds. When it finally returned its gaze to me it uttered a single word.

“Yes.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Baldr would be glad to hear that. And I was too. Now that he was my mate, his family was mine too. I wanted to meet them and spend time with them, not start our relationship with a funeral.

“Fourth question,” I began. “How do we stop Tyr?”

“The god of war has long since ceased to exist as I said, child.”

“No not that Tyr,” I replied. “The one from my home. Tyr of the Skoll pack, the one wreaking havoc in Fenris.”

The spirit paused for a long moment as if thinking. “This Tyr is already on the path to his own destruction. There is no need for you to stop him. He will be his own end. But, the future is unwritten and can still be changed.” The spirit nodded, agreeing with itself. “However, if you wish to stop him before his self-afflicted fate, you are plenty powerful enough to do it yourself.”

I froze in place as the spirit finished speaking. Baldr and I had hoped for a more concrete answer. And we certainly didn’t expect my magic to be the answer. But I still wanted to stop him before he hurt more people. He might destroy himself eventually, but how many innocent lives would be lost before that happened? I thought of how he’d treated me all those years inside the dome and I just couldn’t bear the idea of him doing that to anyone else.

“What is your final question, child?”

With a sigh, I knew I had to abandon our last question. Baldr wanted to know more about his mother and the protection magic she’d cast around him. He wanted to know how he could use it to destroy Tyr. But if I was the key to defeating him, then there was something else I needed to ask. I took a deep breath and hoped he’d forgive me.

“How do I access and control my power?” I asked, hoping the spirit would give me the answer Tyr and I had been searching for all those years.

However, the spirit simply smiled, the white glowing eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Practice,” it said.

I stared up at the creature that wore Baldr’s face. Dumbfounded.

“Is that it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“No, no,” it replied, waggling a finger at me. “You’ve asked all your questions. Now I have one for you.” Suddenly the spirit was in my face, its voice a full octave lower and reverberating in the cavern. “Tell me the name of my host!”

With a petty grin I reached out, placing my hand on Baldr’s forehead. “No.”

A quick swipe of my hand smeared the blood rune on Baldr’s forehead and the spirit let out a deep, guttural scream. His eyes flashed and went out, the mist stopped pouring from his mouth, and he fell to the ground in a heap before I could catch him.

And that, it seemed, was the end of Baldr’s spell.