The nightmares came from stories I’d grown up on. The serpent that stretched around the world forced to bite its own tail to keep it from devouring the world was the world serpent, Jörmungandr. My father delighted in scaring all of his daughters with tales of the jaws of the great beast. And the ship made of fingernails … the Naglafar. Too terrifying to put into words, almost; I would hide under my blankets whenever he told that tale—something unbecoming of a young warrior. If you didn’t die in battle, and your life wasn’t bad enough solely for Hel, then the Naglafar is where you went. To work bone-chilling labor as your fingernails grew faster and faster, painful and debilitating, until they fell off thick as wood and long as branches. They crafted a ship with them; a ship where they would travel to fight in Ragnarök, on the side of those who’d end the world.

My father used to hold me and say they were just stories. But, considering all I’d been through, considering I’d even talked with a goddess, my faith that the horrific remained in stories was starting to waver.

But I was no longer a child. Yes, I had nightmares. But until now, they never were like this.

Part of me believed I would always have nightmares. There was so much in my past that continued to haunt me. I was safe. But I would always be haunted. My mind couldn’t simply forget the horrors I’d been through. But at least those nightmares had a root, a cause. At least those nightmares made some sort of sense. I knew why I was having them. With these, I didn’t even know where to begin. None of it made sense. It was horror after horror flashing in my mind.

“Lydian?” Soren asked, wrapping one strong arm around me.

I leaned into the embrace. “Yes,” I said. “Among other things.”

Soren kissed the top of my head. “He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know it takes … time, and you might never get over what he did to you. But you have to keep repeating that he can’t hurt you anymore.”

I glanced to the shattered mirror; a sliver of blond hair flickered in the glass before disappearing once again. Oh, how I wished that were true. But I couldn’t tell Soren that. I didn’t know how I’d do so without convincing him I’d gone certifiably mad, and to be honest, I was embarrassed to admit what had been going on after keeping the secret for half a year. So, instead, I continued to press into his embrace, cherishing the warmth of his body and the sound of his beating heart.