Enamoured with a Mortal

Chapter Six

Evidently, mortals could be very strong given the right determination. I'd foolishly thought that given how weak her seiðr felt that she couldn't keep me out for very long. Yet two weeks passed and nothing had happened. I'd forced myself into a sleep with the Soul Forge, with rituals, desperately trying every shred of knowledge I had to backtrack this connection I knew existed. I'd expected some resistance, the sense of her seiðr pushing against me, but instead I usually felt nothing. As the days passed I became less and less hopeful. Still I kept pressing on, hoping that I could just have a breakthrough. All I needed was one slither of information to find her with. I ignored the part of me that was worried that it made it worse, that took heed of her warnings not to try, ultimately knowing that I could live with her anger if it meant I knew she was safe. And so I pressed on. Using the Soul Forge for several hours a day, usually ignoring the sullen presence of my brother who usually stood silently in the corner. Ever so often I felt like I could sense her presence, her seiðr. As if I could feel the thin thread of power binding us together even from separate planets. It was shielded and almost impossible to follow, but sometimes, and with a ridiculous amount of concentration and power, it seemed to work. It felt like some progress was being made, only for the connection to suddenly sever. As if my own seiðr acted against my will to stop the spell. Those days were the worst. I always ended up exhausted, seiðr sources extremely depleted, and having to rely on my brother to get me safely back to my room.

Over two weeks passed of this routine when something finally shifted. Except this time I wasn't in the Soul Forge and hadn't been attempting to get through to her. Instead I passed out from exhaustion in the comfort of my Asgardian bed and immediately found myself standing in the lounge one room over.

"Took you long enough, Mischief." I took a moment to steady myself, taking time to get used to the sudden overwhelming presence of seiðr. After weeks of chasing that feeling, to suddenly be consumed by it was a shift I hadn't been prepared for. Neither was I prepared for her to look so well. Less like a specific memory I could place, but a perfect image of the Kaya I remembered. Far removed from the blonder, thinner, and ragged figure that had appeared in that motel room on the verge of death. Eventually, through the loss of breath and dizziness I managed to get something out.

"Kaya? H-how?"

"How can you cast illusions? How can I create shields? I thought you would have figured it out by now, ást." Well, at least she was well enough to be making snarky remarks. Worlds away from dying in my arms.

"I am not in the Soul Forge Kaya, unless Hydra have a secret base in Asgard you shouldn't be able to do this. Not freely, not here. How is this possible?"

"I'm not sure."

Her words spread over me uncomfortably, not sharp enough to indicate a clear lie, but enough to show some deceit. I raised an eyebrow at her, my rising suspicions replacing the brief relief I felt at seeing her again. Cautious at the sudden shift in her demeanour, and exhausted from the weeks of overusing my seiðr, I made my way to the edge of the sofa nearest to her. She watched me the entire time, noting every action I took with a scrutiny I wasn't used to, but made no move from the corner she had tucked herself in as she leant against the side of the fireplace.

"Want to try that again, darling?" As the shock of her finding her way to me settled I began to see her clearer. At first I had assumed that she wasn't any specific memory, but as I took in the white jogging bottoms and thin black vest top I realised it was the last night I saw her. Except it wasn't quite right. Seiðr gripped thickly to her skin in an unnatural way and it finally clicked in my head what she was. The woman who could barely conjure the illusion of a mouse has surrounded her entire frame in a near perfect mirage. Enough to feel like a dream or a perfect memory. She'd created an illusion of herself around herself. And then stood in front of me and lied without any hesitation. The prolonged silence that indicated her refusal to elaborate didn't help calm my bubbling anger either.