I did not sense the next fire. Fortunately, it wasn’t anything important. A couple of houses in Georgetown, empty.
Rich people’s houses.

 

I wasn’t even sure it was connected, except that I just did not believe in coincidences any more. A token reminder.

 

A reminder I was still on notice.

 

It made me tempted to go back to the “accept then stab him in the back plan” and who cared if it made me an oathbreaker? People expected things like that from Loki’s daughter, after all.

 

I didn’t, but it was tempting. Instead, I was doing research. Clara was looking up stuff on magical energy and something she was calling knots of magic.

 

Knot seemed like a good word for magic being tied up somewhere it could not be used.

 

I was also looking into sources of fire. (The crazy idea of somehow stealing a star nobody was using had not completely escaped my head, although I knew it was not something I could actually do).

 

I did not want to give up without trying every possibility. And if nothing worked? I was not sure what to do at that point.

 

Loki had implied that trying to save Muspelheim could trap me there. Or rather, I thought, it might bind me to that realm.

 

Might make it home.

 

Unless the only way to get extra fire was to use myself as a source…and then I might not be able to leave until I found a better, longer term solution.

 

That, I thought, was rather what he was hinting at. I could have lived with that if it wasn’t for Kanesha. Any longer term solution would come after her mortal lifespan.

 

Surtur’s desperation told me I could not wait.

 

So, was that it? Would I have to give up the woman I loved after all? What would happen to her if her soul was tied to me and I was tied to Muspelheim?

 

That was a question for Thruor, but I had not seen her in a few days to ask. I paced the reflecting pool – it was a place one could go and walk circles and nobody would particularly notice or care.

 

People would just think I was exercising or something. Or maybe even realize I was thinking.

 

I did not care what they thought.

 

Think.

 

I was fire, but where did my fire come from? Nobody seemed willing to tell me that.

 

Stealing stars.

 

I sighed. The apple tree, the metaphor. Dying fire giants. It had not got to that point yet. Or had it?

 

I had seen healthy people, healthy children. I assumed it was not at that point yet.

 

I assumed it would be at that point soon.