keeping one hand on the slope above us at all times so we didn’t slip. When we reached the bottom, I stopped at the edge of the opening, but Marroc simply jumped in.
I peered over the edge into the darkness, and he called up to me. “You can toss me the crystal if you want,” he said, voice echoing. I still wasn’t used to the sound of him—a masculine voice, but one smooth as cream.
I chose to climb down the side instead.
When I reached the bottom, the shades led us into a labyrinthine sewer system full of dark side passages. Even I couldn’t see in here.
At last, we reached a set of thick iron doors that completely blocked the tunnel. Streaked with rust, they seemed to have been made by the same hand as the wall that encircled Helheim itself. It was hard to tell if they were designed to keep something in or out.
It was quiet except for the sound of dripping water. Marroc stood next to me, and the shades hovered around him.
“The Nastrand is on the other side,” said the lead shade. “This is where we leave you.”
As the shades slid back into the darkness, Marroc put his shoulder against the door. With a rusty groan, it creaked open.
Chapter 47
Marroc
I pushed open the doors to the Nastrand. Though few had ever visited the place, I knew from the stories what to expect. The Corpse Shore was a series of beaches that bordered an ocean of blood. It was where the worst of the dead were sent to suffer. And, most importantly, it was where the serpent Nidhogg swam.
So, I’d expected darkness and screams of agony, but instead, we were met by sunlight and a gentle breeze. Great dunes spread out until they reached a sparkling sea. The sun shone in a scarlet sky.
When I glanced at Ali, I saw the sun gleaming in her eyes. I’d been lying to her, again. But everything I did, I did for a reason.
My magic had told me that Wyrd decreed this path—that I must find the great wyrm, and I would get my soul back. And I had complete faith in fate to set me on the right course. It might seem insane, but fate had brought us to this terrible place. And spells for divining the true course of fate had never been wrong before.
“You see?” I pointed to the beach, and Ali’s silver gaze followed. “Nastrand, the Shore of the Dead. Where murderers, adulterers, and oath-breakers go after they die. Don’t say I never took you anywhere nice.”
She arched an eyebrow at me, seemingly surprised that I’d made a joke. Actually, it had surprised me, too. It wasn’t like I’d joked with anyone in the past thousand years. I’d just eaten them.
I stepped onto a path of white cobblestones, into the new realm. On either side rose enormous piles of red sand.
I’d only gone a few steps when I heard Ali say, “Oh.” She stood stock-still staring at the white cobblestones.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re walking on—skulls.”
I looked down. Sure enough, what had appeared to be white stone was actually bleached bone. “Ah. Now, look at that. And here I was, hoping we’d find a romantic setting by the Corpse Shore.”
She met my gaze. “Right. Nothing sexier than the bones of the dead.”
Was that a dig at me? Unnecessary. “I can tell you’re annoyed. Just because I dragged you into Helheim and it turned out you might be trapped here forever.”
“You convinced me to join you on a pointless mission to kill a dead man. Maybe you can raise him from the dead, but I’m not sure I trust your judgment at this point.”
“You got the ring you needed, didn’t you?”
Except she didn’t need it—not at all. Perhaps I should stop lying to her. When I got my soul back, I might feel bad about things, though I wasn’t entirely sure.
I could remember facts from my past. I could remember people and events. But my own life? That was as illusory as smoke. I had glimpses of memories, but no idea what kind of person I’d been. Any real facts I knew about my life before this had been told to me by the guards.
Only when I was close to Ali could I get glimpses of the past—the flashes of ravens I’d kept. But soon enough, I’d know it all.
I walked slowly along the bone-cobbled path as it wound between the dunes in the direction of the shore. A thin wind