Wolf Child - Lìfa-saga Book 1

XIII.

When Lìfa sank beneath the surface of the black water, it felt like time has stopped underwater. All noises were muffled, the shouts of the war above and the violent roar of the thunder were like sounds of a distant land.

A second later, as the dark waves swallowed her body, the frozen time started into a wild rush again. The cold hit her as an electric shock and the freezing water squeezed the air out of her lungs in an instant. She desperately trashed with her already numb limbs, trying to get to the surface, but despite all her effort, she was sinking fast.

Lìfa felt like a big weight she couldn’t get rid of was pulling her down into the darkness. She watched helplessly the water above her lighting up and going black again as the storm was still raging on. Her whole body was now screaming for air and as she instinctively gasped, only water flooded her mouth and lungs.

Desperately pulling at the frigid water, another feeling spread across her body, burning through her veins. Anger. One wrong move, one simple moment of distraction could put an end to her life. Her dreams about fame and glory would never come true. She saw pictures of herself sitting on a golden throne of Vallhalla with the crown on her head slowly fading away. Pictures of Sveinn and her fighting side by side, pictures of them finding the gold of Fafnir. The darkness ate all of these dreams and images before they had a chance to become reality. The bitter mixture of fury and disappointment wrapped its tentacles around her heart like a giant sea creature rising from the darkness below. The Norns* had betrayed her, the gods simply made a fool out of her.

This fire gave her new power to fight, to swim up to the sweet air. She gave in all she had, but the weight anchoring her down made her sink relentlessly. Soon her limbs felt heavy and numb and she lost track of which way was up and down. She got lost sinking in the dark alone, slowly suffocating.

As Lìfa began losing her consciousness, she felt like drifting in and out of reality to a place that existed outside space and time. Soon she found herself floating in a strange state where she didn’t feel alive anymore, but she wasn’t dead either.

That’s when she heard the voices. At first, they were so quiet, barely above breath. Soon she was surrounded by them, their familiar sound rang crystal clear in her ears.

”Lìfa... you’ll live, no matter what...”

In her surprise, she tried to shout, to call out to her father, but only small bubbles left her mouth.

"In the morning you will vow your loyalty to me. Welcome among the Glorious Thirteen!"

”We have to rematch one day. Promise to meet me in Valhalla!”

She turned, searching for the source of the voices, trying to find them through the darkness, but they were nowhere and everywhere at the same time. All around her like ghosts of the past.

”You need someone who saves your stupid ass from time to time."

”Don’t run from your legacy!”

The voices sounded so real, so close. Her father, Sveinn, Finn. Like she could just reach an arm out to touch them but again, she had to realise the freezing fluid surrounding her, now so cold that it felt like burning her skin. That was when she heard one last, piping voice over the whispers of her past.

”One can keep you afloat, but the weight of two will make you drown.”

The words of Silvana hit her as a lightning, pulling her back to reality, being aware of the cold, suffocating sea around her again. As the sign of her final desperation, she reached to her neck from where the two medallions hung. As her fingers trailed the cold metal, the decision was already made. Her palm closed around the Thor’s hammer and she tore it down and threw it into the abyss.