Nights around a burning fire, huddled up between my sisters and their families, as my father animatedly told stories by firelight came rushing back to me. So, so many stories. How Skadi’s giant father was killed, how the Valkyries picked the dead from the battlefield, and how those who’d died by sickness and old age were forced to cross a mighty river of ice where not even gods could return from, in order to get to their afterlife.

A final test, he’d said.

Hel is a place as well as the name of its ruler. This voice I recognized as Lydian’s, and if I had enough energy after having fallen for who knew how long, I would’ve groaned. After two blissful days of silence, he was back. At least soon he wouldn’t be speaking in my head and driving only me to want to rip my hair out. It’s not for punishment, not all of it. Lydian continued without acknowledging my frustration. Sure, there are some parts that are less desirable than others, especially if you were not properly buried. He let his words linger for a second, and I swore I could see him in my mind’s eye, glaring at Soren. But in reality, Hel means the grave. The dwelling of the dead. Nothing more, nothing less. You cross into its borders and you become its citizen.

“And now we’re going to have to cross back,” I muttered out loud. The others turned to me in concert but shrugged it off when I tapped my temple. By now, I was pretty sure they were used to me speaking to what seemed like myself. Thank the gods they all knew the truth now, so I didn’t look completely out of my head.

“Is he bothering you?” Soren asked.

“Always and forever,” I replied. “But in this case, it’s more of an annoyance. As if I don’t know my own theology.”

“Theology?” Soren raised an eyebrow.

“I’m getting lectured about the river, Gjall, like I’m a kid at a teacher’s knee. It’s almost worse than when he’s taunting me,” I said, acid dripping from my voice.

Rose shot a wary glance at the rushing water. “We’re going to have to cross that, aren’t we?” His face had turned a pale shade of green at the sight. Other than Diaval, the other goblins also were swallowing back roils of nausea at the proximity to rushing water. Because of course, fast-moving water was one of the ways to ward off creatures of the Permafrost. Surprisingly, my stomach wasn’t turning itself into knots and loops.

“I’d say it’s not as daunting as it looks,” Diaval said, “but I’d be lying. Besides, I’m sure you’ve done much more dangerous things.”