us. His massive lava-filled mouth opens as he roars again. Even in the distance, the large horns circling out of his head are intimidating, framed by smaller circular horns. His burning red eyes glare in our direction as he realizes his pawn to lure Freya here is escaping. I’m amazed that those eyes without pupils can see so far.
My attention falls toward the hole, growing smaller beneath us as Elan rises to avoid another attack from the lava dragon. “We need to get out of here, Elan. As soon as you get a chance, dash for the hole even if it makes our ride difficult. We’ll just have to hang on.”
Without needing instruction, Beowulf wraps his hands tightly around my waist, and I feel his legs tighten around Elan’s frame. My knuckles are already white from hanging onto her scales, but I tighten my grasp anyway.
Elan’s speed increases, and I feel a rush of hot air as the dragon’s jaws clamp shut, narrowly missing us. Suddenly, Elan flips to the side and dives. The lava dragon is too slow to catch us in its mouth. Hot air blows over my face, and my cheeks push back from the pressure as she flips, plummeting toward the hole as another angel disappears into it. Taking in the size of the hole, I grow concerned. It’s not very big.
“Are you going to fit, Elan?”
Not sure. I’ll have to make it work.
The rumbling of giant footsteps grows louder. Surt is progressing rapidly, his glowing eyes remaining fixed on us. We dodge the swipes of the lava dragon, now twisting to pursue us again.
“Hurry!” I yell. My heart is thumping profusely in my chest, desperate to break free before he closes the gap between us. “Hurry!” I repeat.
Elan flips a couple more times then lands when we reach the hole.
Surt moves closer, his large frame swerving between the last two mountains.
Elan pauses before the hole.
“Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!” I yell in frustration at Elan’s immobility.
Surt’s footsteps pound the ground harder, the vibrations traveling through my spine as he is nearly upon us. My heart stops beating, and my breath catches in my throat. This must be the end. If we don't leave now, we're done. I wish again that I had wings so I could be the one responsible for my own flight.
The large fire giant stoops from the waist, sweeping his large hand in our direction. My face turns clammy.
When the hand is only a few feet away, Elan cries, Duck!
Both Beowulf and I lower toward her back, and she squeezes through the hole, barely making it with us on her back. The space inside is dark, dimly lit by the lava light from Muspelheim. Fortunately, the hole widens inside, allowing Elan to fly through the strange tunnel. It reminds me of the tunnel through Yggdrasil’s trunk to Jotunheim.
As Elan steers upward, I suck in an overdue breath as Surt’s figure disappears. All my joy at making it through the hole is squashed as the entrance is blocked by a large hand charging through the opening, shaped like a claw and swerving upward.
I yelp then scream, “Go! Go! Go!”
I’m giving it my best, Elan snaps.
I clamp my mouth shut and look ahead to see several sets of black wings blocking out any light shining from a potential escape hole ahead.
“Mother of Midgard!” Beowulf curses, grabbing my attention. He gazes over his shoulder.
A strong breeze blows over my face as the hand swipes, trying to reach farther inside the hole. It jerks to a halt as the length of the arm has reached its limit.
My heart cheers, and facing forward, I concentrate on where we’re going. The angels of death pass a portal filled with light. Elan flies past so quickly that I can't get a good look to see what realm the hole may lead to. Eventually, the inside of the tunnel resembles the inside of a trunk of a tree, the walls more wooden rather than stony in appearance, making Muspelheim’s part of the Yggdrasil appear burnt out and dead. The beautiful trunk turns into petrified wood.
With each flap of Elan’s wings, the heat abates. The pressure slowly seeps away from the back of my shoulders. The headache that had been growing in my temples eases as my stress melts away. I gaze over my shoulder to take in the difference in the World Tree's insides, barely able to make out the stony edges of the hole deep below, where we entered.
Suddenly,