A scream lodged in my throat as I reached for solid ground. Gravity dragged me down the stairs as the stone cut into my chest and belly.

Finally, I grasped a crevice in the rock, digging my fingertips in. I jerked to a halt, half on and half off the narrow, jagged stairs.

Panting, I clung to the stone, arms shaking and skin chilled with fear. Once my mind had calmed—not much, of course—I scrambled onto the stairs and clung to the stone cliffs. Thank fates, the treads on my boots did a good job of holding onto the rocks.

Why the hell did superhero chicks in movies always wear high heels? What if you had to climb down a mountain cliff to consult some mysterious seers? What then, Hollywood?

I chuckled nervously and shoved the inane thought away. I hadn’t been scared of heights before, but that was changing.

Slowly, I got to my feet and continued down the stairs, keeping a wary eye out for bits of gravel.

Gulls swooped by me, eyeing me with beady black eyes as the wind tore my hair from my ponytail. I flattened myself against the cliff and shouted, “I have no bread. Go fishing!”

The gulls flew off, cawing their displeasure to the wind.

“You and me both, guys.” Why couldn’t the seers hang out in the forest? Or at the Whisky and Warlock?

But then, nothing good ever came easy.

I kept climbing, slowly and steadily, my limbs shaking with the strain. The wind bit at my cheeks, and I focused on it, trying to ignore the danger.

Crashing waves roared as I neared the shore at the bottom. By the time I stumbled onto the stony beach, my heart was pounding and my breath came short.

I took a moment, panting, and enjoyed the sight of the waves. Sparkling blue water rolled against the pebbles, and behind me, the cliffs towered.

“Whew. All right.” I dusted off my hands and set off toward the left, seeking the cove that Cade had mentioned.

I found it quickly—hard to miss on a straight beach—and ducked inside. It was short and narrow, a stream of ocean water flowing back, and I followed it along the slender gravel beach.

Soon, I turned a slight corner, and a massive cave loomed in front of me.

“Holy fates.” I stopped and stared, awed.

The mouth of the cave was at least three hundred feet tall and just as wide. I could see right in. Cracks in the cave’s earthen ceiling allowed light to stream through. Green moss coated the dark stone walls, and the ocean flowed in to form a pool in the middle of the cave. A circle of land surrounded the water.

I hurried into the cave. Magic sparked against my skin, an unfamiliar signature that filled my mind with a calming sense of knowing.

Knowing what exactly, I had no idea. But since this was the Cave of Seers, it made sense. Seers knew stuff. It was kinda what they did.

It was dark in the cave, with a strange carving on the wall that looked like a large head. Planks of wood were scattered around, old and rotten, along with some metal tools flecked with rust.

How had this place once been used? The tools looked really old.

Slowly, I circled the interior of the cave, searching for a seer or a clue or something.

“Just bits of old stuff,” I muttered.

A large rock sat in the middle of the cave, right at the edge of the water, bathed in a pool of sunlight that shined down through a hole in the rock ceiling.

I shrugged and climbed up onto the rock. It looked as promising as anything else.

As soon as I reached the top of the boulder, magic rushed over me, fizzing against my skin like carbonated water. It glowed bright all around me, a golden light that nearly blinded. I fell to my knees, my head spinning.

When my vision cleared, I was no longer in the cave.

A huge tree towered overhead.

No, it wasn’t huge. It was ginormous, humongous, ridiculously giant-sized. So big I couldn’t see the top, and I couldn’t conceive of the circumference. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting as it tried to comprehend.

As far as I could tell, it was as big as the world itself.

Dumbfounded, I searched my surroundings. I no longer sat on the giant rock, but in the middle of a field that butted up to the massive tree.

More than anything, I wanted to fall onto my back and looked up at the huge branches that spread overhead, nearly blocking out the sun that filtered through the leaves in shining beams of light.

Joy and a little bit of fear filled my chest.

Then my gaze landed on a small building at the base of the tree. A wooden longhouse, with a turf roof and wooden beams for sides.

I blinked.

Was the house tiny, or normal sized? The tree threw everything out of scale.

Three women walked out of the house, each wearing a dress of green mist that flowed around them. Their golden hair glinted in the streams of sunlight. Then it turned black, then red.

Something tugged me toward them. I followed, struggling to my feet and hurrying forward.

As I neared, I realized that they weren’t as young as I’d thought. Nor as old.

In fact, it was nearly impossible to tell their age. Images flashed in their eyes—tiny scenes of life. People and places and animals. Wars and parties and people alone in their houses and so much more. I could stare into them forever.

I sucked in a ragged breath and averted my gaze toward their chins.

Safer that way. I didn’t want to spend eternity watching their eyes like they were TVs.

The women were the same size as me, which meant the house wasn’t tiny and the tree really was as insanely big as I’d thought. It’d probably take my whole life to walk around it.

I stopped in front of the three women.

The one on the left spoke. “Welcome, Bree Blackwood.”

“We are the Norns,” said the one in the center.

The Norns. Viking goddesses of fate. Ever since Arach had told me two days ago that I was the Valkyrie DragonGod, magical beneficiary of the Viking god’s magic, I’d done some research.

Some of that included the Norns. And the tree.

My gaze rose to the tree. “Is this Yggdrasil?”

“It is the world tree, yes.”

“And I’m really here?”

The Norn on the right shrugged. “That is up for interpretation. But for now, you are here with us. I am Urðr.”

At first, the word was gibberish. But then it sorted itself out in my mind, a strange magic I’d never felt before. Urðr was Old Norse for “that which became or happened.”

Apparently I could speak Old Norse now. “You represent the past?”

“Yes.” She smiled.

The Norn in the center said, “I am Verðandi.”

It took a moment, but my mind sorted that one out as well. “You’re the present.”

“Well done.”

“And I am Skuld,” said the final Norn.

My mind translated. “That which should become, or that needs to occur.”

“Precisely. You truly are the Valkyrie.” Skuld smiled.

“Yes.” Though I really didn’t feel like it. “I might be inheriting the powers of the Viking gods, but I’m not doing a very good job of holding on to them.”

Urðr nodded. “That is normal. I suppose you would like our help determining your fate and how you should go about fixing your power?”

“Yes, please. Because I have no idea what to do.”

“It won’t be easy,” Skuld said.

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“Good.” Verðandi nodded. “Now come.”

They turned and walked toward the tree, leading me toward a well that I hadn’t noticed before. It was small compared to Yggdrasil that I’d never have seen it. Hell, it was a miracle I’d noticed their house. I probably wouldn’t have seen an elephant running at me until I’d felt the ground shake.

“Do you always appear to people who come to the Cave of Seers?” I asked.

“We appear to you because you are of the Vikings,” Verðandi said.

Fair enough.

We stopped by the well, and Skuld began to turn a crank that lowered a bucket down the shaft. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but I thought I recalled a vague mention of them using a well to help their magic.

Far below the earth, the bucket plopped into the water with a small splash. Then Skuld turned the crank the other way.

Once the bucket was back at the surface, Verðandi pulled it off the hook and placed it on the ground. The three Norns gathered around it and dipped their hands into the water. They murmured to each other, too low for me to hear.

I leaned closer, my heart pounding.

What would they find?

Skuld looked up at me. “You must go to the realm of the Valkyrie and seek your answers.”

“The realm of the Valkyrie?” My stomach jumped. “How am I going to get to the land of the gods?”

Verðandi looked at me. “We will provide you with directions. And the tools you need to get there.”

“But you must go quickly,” Urðr said. “Terrible things happen to those who cannot find an anchor for their magic.”

“I know all about that.” My magic dying on me today had been miserable. I didn’t want any repeats.

“You don’t know,” Urðr said. “Not really. Show her, Skuld.”

Skuld reached for me, her pale, slender hand gleaming with magic.

She touched my arm. Immediately, a sense of emptiness filled me. Death. My soul leaching out of my body. I gasped and doubled over, misery like I’d never known filling every inch of me. I went to my knees, unable to stand.

“This is your future.” Skuld’s voice resonated with darkness. “If you cannot anchor your magic—control your magic—you will lose it forever.”

“It feels like my soul is gone.” I gasped.

“Exactly.” Skuld removed her hand.

I collapsed to my hands and knees. Feeling returned and the emptiness faded, but the memory was so strong that it made bile rise in my throat.

“You didn’t lose your magic before,” Urðr said. “You have lost your sonic boom, but your healing power and gift over water are still there. In the battle today, they only faltered, growing weak and useless. When you truly lose your magic—lose all of it—you will feel like this. Forever.”

“Likely worse,” Verðandi said. “When magic goes out of control and your gifts devour each other like snakes in a pit, you will feel worse.”

“Worse?” The blood rushed from my head. My life would be over. I’d rather be dead than lose my magic.

Skuld nodded. “So you see why you must go to the realm of the Valkyrie. You will find answers there. The winged warriors will give you the tools to anchor your magic inside you. Then you will be at peace again.”

“Though it may take great sacrifice,” Urðr said. “It often does.”

“Of course.” Good things don’t come easy. “Can you tell me anything about the Rebel Gods?”

I might as well get as much info as I could out of this visit. And anything to distract me from my future would be super great right now.

“You will find answers about them with the Valkyrie. Clues to lead you on your way,” Verðandi said. “You are linked with the Rebel Gods, but you must discover how.”

“And defeat them,” Skuld said. “Your life depends on it. Your sister’s life.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“We shall see,” Skuld said.

Verðandi punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Have faith, sister.”

“She is the Valkyrie DragonGod,” Urðr said. “The champion of the Vikings, returned.”

Yeah, no pressure.

The three fates stood.

“That is all we can tell you,” Skuld said.

Verðandi stooped and dipped her hand into the bucket of water, then pulled out a scroll and a small pouch. She handed both to me. The pouch felt like it had small rocks in it.

“The scroll will guide you to the Valkyrie. The pouch contains helpful tools.” She leaned close. “Stick close to your war god. He will be your greatest aid in this. Go only with him.”

“Only Cade can come with me?”

“He is the only one who can accompany you where you are going. He is a god. Your sister has not transitioned yet.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Thank you.”

The Norns nodded, and the tree of life disappeared.

Suddenly, I was back in the cave. It was dark now. I spun in a circle. Moonlight glittered on the water that pooled within the cave. Magic shimmered in the air.

In my hand, I clutched the scroll and the little bag, confirming that this had been no dream.

“Right, then. Off to Valhalla.”

* * *

I was sweating and exhausted by the time I made it to the top of the cliff. My muscles trembled with strain and my lungs burned. Barely—just barely—I managed to avoid going to my knees.

All those years riding around on the buggy hadn’t been the best for my fitness. I could fight. But climb up a cliff like a mountain goat?

Nope.

Cool wind whipped my hair back from my face as I used the moonlight to find my way toward the castle. In fairness, it wasn’t hard to miss—giant thing with sparkly golden windows and all.

Warmth enveloped me as soon as I trudged through the massive doors into the entry hall. The scent of mulled wine welcomed from somewhere deep in the kitchens, where Hans occasionally had a kettle brewing regardless of the season.

I ignored it, opening the scroll instead.

Scribbled writing greeted my eyes, something I didn’t recognize. I squinted.

Old Norse, maybe?

Had to be. I’d seen it in the books in the library but hadn’t learned how to read it yet. I sighed and rerolled the scroll, then dug into the bag of what felt like rocks. I pulled one out.

Yep. A rock.

I turned it over and squinted at the carving on the front. It was a squiggly shape, but hard to tell what exactly. I inspected the rest of the rocks, only able to identify one carving that kinda looked like a face.

“All right, then,” I muttered. “Off to the library.”

I headed down the hall to Florian’s domain. Fortunately, it was evening, so I could expect to find the ghostly night librarian instead of the grumpy Potts, who handled the day shift.

Thank fates for a little luck.

If my luck extended, he’d come out quickly and help me, then I could run all of this by Ana before getting started.

The library contained no people when I entered, but as usual, the fireplaces burst to life, warm orange flame filling the room with a pleasant glow. Two of the Pugs of Destruction slept in beds in front of the largest fireplace on the right wall, but movement on my left caught my eye.

I looked up.

Mayhem fluttered high in the air, a rag in her mouth. She rubbed it against the spines of the books, shaking her little head back and forth.

“Oiling the leather again?” I asked.

She gave a yip, but didn’t cease her work.

I grinned. Yesterday, Florian had explained that the spines of the books needed to be oiled to keep the old leather from cracking. It was Mayhem’s job to do the books high on the shelves because she had wings.

In return, Florian read bedtime stories out loud to her. Particular favorites were The Dogs with the Giant Ham and Skipping Through Bacon Valley: A Good Dog’s Memoir.

“Florian!” I called, hoping he’d hear me. Sometimes he was off doing who knew what. He certainly never explained why it took him so long to come when I called. The best I ever got was, “Ghosts have lives, too, you know.”

Fair enough. Florian had stuff to do.

But I needed help. Pronto.

I found a seat near the fire, wanting to rest my legs for a moment before I headed back into the darker section—the ghost library—to get some books. I might be able to find them on my own without Florian’s help, but it was a freaking labyrinth back there.

I’d give him a few moments to show up while I rested my legs. I leaned back in my chair and sighed, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Ruckus and Chaos snuffled loudly and shifted in their beds, but didn’t wake. Chaos’s horns glinted in the firelight. I stuffed the carved stones in the pocket of my jeans and unrolled the scroll again, studying it.

After a while, my head began to hurt, but eventually, I swore that the letters began to move.

I blinked. “What the heck?”

Warmth glowed in my chest, almost like magic. But it was a bit different. Subtler. Not the intense wham! of developing a new power.

But the letters began to form words I could recognize.

In the cave where one can build and repair, the boat will arise that transports good and fair.

“Holy crap!” I said.

“Can I help you?” Florian’s voice sounded.

I jerked my head up. “Florian!”

He looked elegant as always in his eighteenth century apparel. His ruffled cravat was stark white at his neck, and his waistcoat gleamed with blue metallic thread. The wig towering on his head was an unusual choice, since he often went wigless. He must have been out partying with some old-timey friends or something.

He bowed. “Ever at your service, my lady.”

I laughed. “You know that’s not true.”

He sniffed. “Fine, then. Sometimes at your service. When it is convenient.”

I grinned.

“But can I help you?” he asked.

“I thought so, but it seems I can read Old Norse now.” I recited the first line to him. “Do you know what that means?”

His face brightened. “Norse, you say? But of course I know. That is referring to the Cave of Seers.”

“But I was just there.”

“Ohhh.” He leaned forward. “Did you learn anything good?”

“Maybe, if I can figure out what that line from this scroll means.”

He sat in the plush chair across from me and crossed one ankle over his knee, then tapped his elegant fingers on his chin. “Not to worry, my dear. I know what it means. Long before the Cave of Seers was used as a visiting place for seers, the cave was used by Viking seafarers who came to our fair shores. They pulled their boats in for repairs and often overwintered there.”

It clicked in my mind. “That’s what those tools were. The ones that were scattered around. And the wooden beams.”

“Exactly.”

“Why didn’t you guys ever move them? Surely they should be in a museum.”

“Heavens no! Most archaeological sites should be left undisturbed, particularly by laypeople. While it is true that those artifacts are on the surface and subject to the cruel vagaries of weather and fate, we cannot touch them for any reason. Not even for conservation and display. Magic prevents it.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t tried to touch them or pick them up—they weren’t mine, after all, and one didn’t muck about in magic places getting sticky fingerprints everywhere—but I believed him.

“Yes, well, that is the place where ‘one can build and repair,’ as the scroll says. And I have to assume that ‘the one good and fair’ refers to you. You are on a quest, after all. To prove yourself worthy and anchor the magic within you.”

“Yep, that’s me.” I looked down at the scroll. The rest of it seemed quite clear. I snapped it shut and looked up at Florian. “I know what I have to do. Thank you, Florian.”

He stood and bowed. “My pleasure to help a DragonGod.”

“You helped me before you knew I was a DragonGod.”

“Nothing wrong with a little flattery.” He grinned cheekily, and the light glinted off his glasses. “I’d help you no matter who you were. But, if you’re going to be famous, I’m going to enjoy it.”

I grinned. “Night, Florian.”

“Goodnight, Bree Blackwood.”

I turned and hurried out of the library. I needed to find Ana and tell her what I’d learned. And I needed to find Cade and ask him to come along.

I read the scroll as I walked, picking up more tips from the directions. Apparently the stones would help us along. I patted the bag in my pocket, ensuring they were still there.

I turned the corner toward our apartments and slammed into a broad chest.

Gasping, I stumbled backward. Strong hands caught me before I fell on my butt.

I looked up at the towering figure who radiated warmth and the seductive scent of a storm at sea.

“Cade.”

He grinned down at me, handsome as the devil with his dark hair and full lips. “Bree.”

“Weren’t we in this position just a few days ago?” I asked, embarrassed to hear how breathless I sounded. Visions of our kiss flashed through my mind, warming my skin and sending heat to my cheeks.

“I believe we were.” His voice roughened, lowering. Just barely, his hands tightened on my arms. Not enough to hurt, but enough to show he was affected by the memory.

I leaned toward him, my mind buzzing with desire. This was the first moment we’d been alone since our kiss at the Whisky and Warlock. The first moment I’d have a chance to taste him again. Feel him again.

My heart thundered.

Ana appeared in the corner of my vision.

She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. “Oh, sorry!”

I stepped back from Cade, grateful that he was quick to drop his grip.

“Ana. Hey.” I smiled, trying to play it cool.

“Hey.” Her gaze darted between me and Cade. It was clear she was trying to play it cool, too, but of course there was insatiable curiosity there. If I’d seen her about to smash faces with a sexy god, I’d be pretty interested in getting the scoop myself.

I’d mentioned our brief kiss to her after it had happened—there was no keeping juicy gossip from Ana; she was like a bloodhound—but there’d been no news since then.

“Ana, good to see you,” Cade said.

“You, too.” She turned to me. “Well, how’d it go in the cave?”

I explained the scroll and the rocks, then turned to Cade. “The Norns said that you could come with me because you’re a god and can enter the different realms. Will you?”

“Of course.”

“I want to help,” Ana said. “I’ll come.”

“You can’t.” I frowned at her. “I’m sorry. Since you’re not a DragonGod yet—or haven’t come into your powers at least—they said that you wouldn’t be able to enter the godly realms.”

“Dang.” Her shoulders slumped. “I hate you going off to dangerous places alone.”

“She won’t be alone,” Cade said.

“I know, I know.” Ana nodded. “It’s just that I like to be there. We’ve always had each other’s backs. Changing that up is weird. And scary.”

I nodded, knowing she’d spend the whole time concerned for me, just like I would if she had to run off to dangerous godly realms without me. I leaned over and hugged her hard.

“Don’t worry about me.” I pulled away, then smiled at her.

She grinned back at me and nodded, but worry still darkened her eyes.

There was nothing I could do about that, so I let it go and turned to Cade. “Meet tomorrow at sunrise in the entry hall?”

“I’ll see you then.” He turned and walked away, business as usual.

I, of course, was not businesslike at all. Instead, I mooned after him until he turned the corner.