Chapters (92)
“It’s kinda been stuck in my head on and off since I left Áibmoráigi,” I explained. “Do you know why they were so obsessed with it? What is it supposed to foretell?”
“The song is just nonsense,” she said dismissively. “Just a parable about the seasons. As to why, they believed that the song would somehow lead them to finding a way to cross the bridge.
“The álfar can cross the bridge as they please, or so it always seemed to me,” Sarina went on. “But we could only guard it. For centuries, the Älvolk had protected a place that they’ve never been. Alfheim became a treasure to them, something they had spent so long coveting that they felt entitled to it.”
“The song is believed to be a prophecy that will enable the Älvolk to get their version of heaven?” I asked. “But how is it supposed to work? It’s just a silly love story.”
“I don’t know how it would work,” Sarina said with a bitter smile. “They never told me the details. All I know is that they were practicing blodseider magick, and they were trying to amass an army of thrimavolk.”
30
The Bridge
My mind was racing, and I paced the room from door to door. Pan sat on the bed, one leg folded under him, and he’d been wearing the same thoughtful expression the entire time. I’d explained the conversation with Hanna and her grandparents, even the bit about how the connection had gotten sketchy at the end and we’d had to say goodbye abruptly.
“So my probably-father is a dangerous fanatic,” Bryn said flatly. She was standing off to the side of the room, leaning back against the wall. “Unfortunately, that’s not exactly shocking anymore.”
“But if we figure out what that weird song is about, we can figure out what they’re up to, and what they did to us,” I said. “And maybe we can find Eliana and stop Bekk’s baby from getting hurt like the others.”
As soon as I had the chance, I would tell Elof about the alvaroot. Knowing the cause of the deaths would greatly increase any effort to keep Bekk’s baby healthy, and if anyone could figure out an antidote to an old root, I had to hope it was Elof.
“That all sounds really good,” Pan agreed tentatively. “But it’s basically a nursery rhyme. It doesn’t mention a bridge or Alfheim or anything relevant. Other than that sad flower.”
“What flower?” Bryn asked.
“The one the Vittra gave the Älvolk in exchange for us.” Pan looked back over his shoulder at her. “The sorgblomma. It’s a rare globeflower that bleeds aloe and smells like death, so they call it a ‘mourning flower.’”