“Next time we need to save the world, I’ll make sure to ask the Norns for it to happen in a nicer place, okay?” I said, though I doubted the ancient crones of fate had any care for our small mortal lives.

“So rude,” Seppo said. “Why is everyone so rude to me, Rosamund?”

“You can be uniquely annoying,” he answered. “As your partner, I find it endearing. Many don’t.”

“Will you all shut up?” Diaval was close to shouting. “I’m trying to figure something out here, so we can actually get to the shore of corpses!”

There was something in her tone that had us drop all conversation, and we stood in silence as Diaval fiddled with the bag of dirt from the bank of Gjall.

“Olla silmäni.” The ancient words and the magic they created swirled around us like a breeze as Diaval made a small cut on her hand and let the blood drip into the bag. Coming over to all of us, she held out the bag of mud and passed over her ritual knife, hilt-first. One by one, we all took the knife and made a small cut, letting the blood drip into the bag of muck while Diaval kept chanting the same words over and over again. Her pupils blew up, almost covering her irises entirely, before slowly returning to normal. A flicker of electric blue light danced inside the bag before sinking into its contents.

“Take some of it and smear it under your eyes. Even you, Rose,” Diaval ordered. “It’ll help us get to the shore and hopefully avoid any dangers on the way.”

“Seer’s mud?” Soren inquired.

“Would you prefer to go in blind?” Diaval asked.

“No, ma’am,” Soren replied, a hint of humor in his voice as he, like the rest of us, smeared the muck under his eyes.

The underworld burst to life. No longer was it muck and mud for miles to see but a wild plain where my inner stag could sense the powerful creatures it contained. There were paths in the ground, colored and stained all different shades, twisting and spiraling each way to a distant destination. A field was to our left, the grass grown so high that even Soren wouldn’t be able to see over it, and to the right, there was a thick forest full of undergrowth that held millions of little yellow eyes, staring back at us.

Diaval waited until we were accustomed to the sights before she spoke again. “We go down the red path,” she said, toe tapping the red-stained earth under our feet. “It will bring us through to the shore and the unworthy dead.”

Nervously, we all filed down the red-stained path, only to hear Diaval in the front say, “Oh, and try not to pay attention to anything you see.”