Dark dreams.

Shadow

Feather

Root and Bone

The gods created you for this.

And I sit in the gnarled roots of the World Tree while the horned god Cernunnos speaks from his knotted pulpit:

“The gods demand blood. They have always demanded blood. To speak with divinity, you must pay in pain.”

He turns, but he is now Odin, the Allfather, the ravens Hugin and Munin perched on each shoulder. His suit is coal, his cowl crow feathers, his staff a root from the Tree itself.

“When Yggdrasil burns, god and man shall dance.”

And I turn in the classroom of glass students and see a girl. Her dark hair drips down pale skin, hides violet eyes.

“I know you.”

I say. She says.

My reflection wavers. Glass cracks.

Snow burns outside the window. Ravens scream.

“Of course you know me,” she says. “For we are the same.”

She steps forward, reaches out, touches

my face. Only it isn’t her hand, it is my hand, and I stare back

at my face through her eyes.

“When the battle comes, you will be mine,” she says. “Together we will fight the Aesir. Together, we will earn the mortals’ worship.”

I step back. “I don’t want to fight.”

“But you will. You were born for this.” She smiles. Violet eyes glow.

“You were born to be mine.”

Her skin touches mine. Ravens scream as blood burns and the World Tree cries as the battlefield stretches before us, blood dripping, blood on fire, boughs brimming with blood and ravens. And in my hand—our hand—a dagger, and at my feet,

a body. His golden body.

I scream. Ravens fly.

“Why are you hiding from me?”

Her words crack. She cries blood.

“Why are you hiding from me, Kaira?” Brad asks, his hands

on my cheek, lips

on my neck. His words dripping down my throat.

“Why are you hiding from what you’ve done?”

And I scream as raven feathers fill my lungs,

as Brad bites my collar, presses hips to mine

as Munin buries himself into my chest.