An idea she did not voice right away. I turned to the dwarves.

 

“If Muspelheim falls to this…”

 

“I know. But it won’t.” And I closed my eyes and reached for my fire, seeking its warmth and reassurance.

 

Maybe I was starting to accept who I was. What I was.

 

Fire.

 

The fire that burned and warmed. There was something, a final acceptance that I held back from.

 

I held back from it because I was afraid. I was afraid I was going to die, plain and simple, if I let this happen.

 

And that made me no kind of a warrior, if I was truly that afraid. I thought of the dragon.

 

Tactical decision.

 

Not my task to kill Surtur.

 

But I would…and I frowned. “Of course,” I murmured to Kanesha. “If Tyz’vel kills Surtur and becomes king, does he become bound to Muspelheim.”

 

“Maybe we should let him do it.” Her eyes lightened and I thought I saw some strange relief in there.

 

“And then take him out. It’s tempting. It would still put us where we were, but…” Where we were with Muspelheim being leaderless.

 

Where I was.

 

Thruor smiled. “It’s a possibility, but I honestly don’t put much to his chances.”
“Then Surtur kills and banishes Tyz’vel. Have we lost anything there?”

 

“Nothing. So, let them take care of each other for now.”

 

“It sits ill with me for some reason.”

 

She frowned. “Your instincts might be better…” She studied me. “Or not.”

 

The fire wanted to rage.
The fire wanted to protect itself and something was in the way. Something was tying it down. I felt that the end game was approaching.

 

But I did not want. “I don’t want…”

 

“You might not have the choice. Remember who you are…Sigynsdottir.”
She invoked my mother’s name for a reason. She called upon the goddess of loyalty.

 

Of fidelity.

 

Of learning to love somebody you might not initially have cared for. She had accepted the result of a trick.

 

And she did love him, disloyal as he was, troublesome as he was. And Odin had, in the end, let him out.

 

Let him out because he knew Loki was not going to start Ragnarok until he had to.

 

Let him out because I existed.

 

But Odin had no clue what to do with me. Or did he?

 

I still did not remember or know the words of the prophecy. But I had a feeling that they were ambiguous.

 

That all of this was because even the Old Man, even the king did not know what I would do.

 

My fate was still in the air. Or, perhaps, the fire.