“So,” she said, “I need you to close your eyes, like you’re going to sleep, and start imagining the setting. Once you’ve got a clear image, let me know, and then you need to project who you want to invite into the lysa.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” I said.

“Yes, you do. All trolls have at least a tiny bit of psychic power,” she insisted. “We can do persuasion, so we can project. Lysa is the same basic principle as persuasion, except that persuasion is a command and a lysa is a conversation.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes and tried to envision a setting.

I chose the meadows in Sweden. Verdant green fields of bright wildflowers rushing up to meet the snowcapped mountain. It all felt so vast and infinite, like staring up at the starry night sky far away from the cities.

Despite the size, and even though I’d only been there once before, it felt familiar and safe. A lot like coming home.

“Ready,” I said finally.

“Now just project,” Dagny said.

I thought of her, the ethereal woman with her long wavy hair, and I tried to will her into the meadow in my mind. Slowly, the meadow grew around me, feeling more solid, more real. The grass tickled my ankles, and the sun warmed my skin. I could even smell the linnea flowers.

But the woman remained a ghost, a mere memory of when I last saw her.

“You need to project,” Dagny repeated emphatically.

“Push out your thoughts,” Pan clarified. “Like you’re shouting in your mind.”

I took a deep breath and tried again, picturing her in my mind and shouting for her. As I did, the world shimmered and bowed, and the sun seemed to shine brighter, haloed by a bright sun dog. The ground trembled underneath my feet.

And suddenly, she was there, standing on the other side of the meadow.

I ran toward her, excitedly yelling, “You’re here! You’re actually here!”

“You summoned me?” The wind blew her silken hair and ruffled the feathers that dripped around her shoulders.

“We needed more time to talk.”

She turned, walking toward the mountains on the far side of the meadow valley, and the long flowered train of her dress dragged along the grass. “You didn’t find my message clear?”

“Not really, no,” I admitted as I followed her. “You said I needed to stop something, but you didn’t tell me how. Or who you are.”

“Oh, binrassi, isn’t it obvious?” she asked with a weary smile.

“I’m sorry, but it really isn’t.” I stopped and let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you here to help me or not?”

She turned around and smiled more broadly at me. “That might be the first sensible thing you’ve said.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”