Once we are safely outside the tree, the door closes and then disappears. I clutch the spellbook Orð gave me. I can’t stop thinking about what he said about my eyes. Special eyes. What did he mean? I should have asked more questions.

Special gifts are for other people. People like Sýr, who have always been beautiful and loved, and who have steady hearts and strong bodies. I’ve always been weaker than the others, prone to sickness, and my goals have always been selfish, not altruistic. My dream is to sail away, not to stay and serve.

“Are you okay?” Einar touches me on the wrist. The sensation travels up my arm in an electric flush.

I shiver. “Yes,” I say. “That turtle man gave me a lot to think about.”

“I know,” he says, gazing into the sky. The red moon is overhead, growing bigger and darker every hour. “Listen.” He turns to me, leaning in so I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. “If you want to go find moonwater now and forget about this time-stone thing, I’m with you. And if you don’t want to face Katla, want to just run away…” He trails off.

“I know,” I say, meeting his steady gaze. But we both know that quitting isn’t a choice either of us can make. Our clans and families and futures are at risk.

“Thank you,” I say. “For being on my side. And for everything else.”

He continues looking at me. Being this close to him isn’t awkward like it used to be, but it’s not comfortable either. I’m trying to get used to meeting the intensity of his gaze. I feel like there’s not much stopping one of us from kissing the other, and I wish I had more time to dwell in this moment. But the red moon won’t wait. Sýr cannot wait.

“We need to continue northeast toward the ice,” I say, breaking the soft tension between us. “It shouldn’t be far. Just beyond the valley toward the coast. My spear will help us find our way, I suppose. But we need some replenishment first.” Píla had given us some food, but we’ve run out.

“I agree,” he says. “We should take a bit of time to gather food and then go.” He pauses. “I don’t like what Orð said about it being so dangerous.” Einar touches my spear, a frown on his face. I think he wishes I had never found this thing.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I have you.”

Oski interrupts with complaints of their ever-growling stomach, so I pull my hook and line from my pack to see if I can catch some fish in the stream we saw on the way into the valley. Einar sets about gathering moss and scavenges the grassy fields surrounding us for herbs and roots. Oski, as usual, does nothing.

Once I’m beside the stream, I dig grubs near the soft earth along the water’s edge. It reminds me of Núna. Where is she now? I pierce the worms’ fat bodies and toss my line into the water. It isn’t long before I catch a few smallfish.

As I am cleaning them, I see something in the shallow water. It’s a rune, one made of whalebone. I recognize it as one of Sýr’s collection.

I dive forward, splashing, and Einar hurries over. “What is it?”

I scoop the rune and cradle it in my hands. “It’s Uruz,” I say. “The rune for strength and will. It’s a message from Sýr!” She wants me to stay strong. The world is alive with Sýr, and Sýr is alive! I am so full of glee that I embrace Einar in a sudden hug.

I let go of him just as quickly and hold out the rune in explanation. “She must have left this for me.”

“A positive sign,” says Einar, still standing close to me.

We roast the fish over the fire and gobble them down, all of us silent. I wonder if they’re worrying about the next step in our journey. Orð said it would be dangerous to seek the time stones, but I have to try. Sýr’s rune has given me new hope.

“Runa?” Einar’s voice startles me. I look up to see him standing over me. “Everything okay?”

“Thinking,” I say. I move over so he can sit next to me on the damp trunk of a fallen tree. He sits close enough for our shoulders to brush against each other, his soft gray cloak rustling against mine.

His cloak fits his broad shoulders so well. It has a fuzzy softness to it that makes me want to bury my head in his neck, though I dare not do such a thing.

Einar is looking at me with a curious expression, as if trying to read my thoughts. I often catch him looking at me this way. It used to make me feel like I was a problem for him to solve, him looking at me the way he studies his plants and potions, but not anymore. Now I long to have him look at me this way.

“Here,” he says, offering me a handful of plump just-picked winterberries, smooth and black. I know they must have been very hard to find.

“Thank you,” I say, “but maybe someone else needs them more than I do.” I nod at Oski, who sits cradling Wyrd’s severed hand.

“You’ll need your energy if you’re going to swim in the ice water,” Einar says, a quaver in his voice. It alarms me.

“Do you think I can really do this?” I ask.

“Well, if you had asked me that when I first met you, I would have said no, I don’t think you can,” he says. “But now I believe you will succeed.”

“If I don’t, then promise me you will continue. Find my sister,” I say. I try to push down my fear, but I feel it taking over.

“I will,” he says. “But I won’t need to. I’m just sorry…” He doesn’t finish his thought.

“For what?” I ask.

“For being a part of what led you here,” he says. “For this being your life. I wish it was different for you.”

I take this in. “And your life,” I say. “I wish it was better.”

I am beginning to wonder if anyone has the life they want. “Maybe existence is a long dream. Maybe we fight against our fate until it’s over,” I say, “and it all keeps happening, over and over.”

Einar gives me an odd look. “Then we don’t have much choice but to keep moving forward,” he says.

“Do you want to get married?” I blurt.

“W-what?” Einar chokes on a berry and then recovers.

“No!” I exclaim. “I’m not asking. I mean, do you ever. Want to get married. To anyone. Ever. In the future.” My face is burning hot and must be red as the moon.

“Oh,” he says, regaining his composure. “Yes, I think so. Do you?”

“No,” I say.

“Why not?”

I point at Oski. “Loving people means you can lose them. Why get married and have children just to watch them die?”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” says Einar.

I shrug. “It’s the truth.”

“For you maybe. Not for me,” he says.

“There’s so much suffering,” I argue.

“Runa, there has always been suffering. Our ancestors suffered, and now we are here. That is life. But what is the point of living if we don’t have anyone to love?”

He stares at me, and he’s so close and the fire is warm and the words coming from his soft lips are a salve on my fearful heart.

“Ah, love,” Oski interrupts with their usual expert timing. “The thing worth living for.”

Einar chuckles and tosses Oski some berries, which they catch in their mouth like a giant trout gulping flies.

“You are both insane,” I grumble as I get up from the fire.

“You know, I was following you for days,” Einar blurts. “Before we joined up.”

I whirl around and stare at him—hard. “What?”

“I saw you in the forest. When you chose not to take the baby birds from their nest.”

I can feel my heart pounding. “You were there?” I knew I was being watched. What else did he see? My mind flashes back to relieving myself in the woods. He wouldn’t have watched that, would he? And when I was sleeping, did he watch me then?

He nods, fiddling with the clasp on his cloak. “I was.”

All that time he was there, and I never knew. I want to be angry, but given everything we’ve been through, and everything we must still do, it doesn’t seem like the right emotion anymore.

“Would you have eaten them?” I ask. “The little birds?”

“No,” he whispers. “I wouldn’t have.”

“And so?” asks Oski. “What is the point of all this? Birds are tasty.”

“The point is, Runa,” says Einar, “I know you to be someone who doesn’t eat baby birds even when she is starving. And yet you pretend not to care about love.”

I take in a deep breath and stare up into the reddening sky, ignoring his comments about love. “Maybe one day I will discover the invisibility rune, the real Aki rune, or maybe I’ll meet Freyja herself and pass through the nine worlds and learn the secrets of our existence. Maybe I will be in charge. Maybe I will punish the gods for what they’re doing to us right now. For what they did to Oski and Wyrd.”

Einar looks uneasy. “You sound like you desire power above all else, Runa. That is the path of darkness.”

“No,” I say. “Right now, all I desire are time stones. And if I’m going to die getting them, then I’d like to get to it.” I pick up my spear and my pack. “Are you with me? Or do you both want to sit here forever, talking about love?”

“Whoop!” Oski yelps, jumping. They place Wyrd’s hand inside their cloak and brandish their sword. Chooser’s shining metal glints in the red of the moonlight. “I must say, runecaster, you know how to get a Valkyrie’s blood moving.”

I look at Einar. He stands, unfurling his tall frame and gathering his supplies. “Lead on,” he says. “Let’s get this done.”

I run my fingertips along the swirls on my spear. “Rán,” I say, intoning the name of the sea goddess, “show me the way.” As I recite the names of her nine daughters, the goddesses of the waves—“Blóðughadda, Bylgja, Dröfn, Dúfa, Hefring, Himinglæva, Hrönn, Kólga, Uðr”—I think how pleased Sýr would be that I have remembered my studies.

The wave formations carved into the staff glow green and then fade, and I see an image in my mind. An ice floe, larger than the others, right off shore. I turn in the direction of the sea. I know where to go.

We make haste, our bellies full and our camp struck. I lead the way, my spear pointing iceward. Enough with distractions. My destiny awaits.

We pass through the valley, leaving behind our sense of unease at the unnatural perfection of the place. The surrounding hills are not at a high elevation, but the slopes are steep, and though we are going as fast as we can, I have to stop several times to catch my breath.

Einar makes me sit and drink water he brought from the stream, and I feel it bolster me with renewed strength. Oski complains about not having any mead, I accuse them of being a drunk, and they tease that I will need to be carried like a lamb the rest of the way. Einar has to intervene before we begin fighting like a pair of siblings. We’re all weary and on edge.

As we are about to make it over the top of the hill, a surprise valley-sneak fog rolls in, surrounding us with white mist. It obstructs our vision, and I panic, reaching out for Einar and Oski.

“Runa, I’m here,” Einar says, grabbing my arm.

“You can always climb on my back,” Oski says. They are trying to ease my fear with humor, but it isn’t working. This is exactly what my sickness is like. Lost in fog with no way out.

But I am not alone this time, and I know how to find my way. I have my friends and my runes.

“Protect me,” I say, holding my rune pouch. “Clear the path.”

My runes chatter and the fog begins to lift, until we can see our way over the hill.

My spear, tingling in my hand, takes us the rest of the way. The terrain is steep on the other side, filled with crumbling rock that slides out from under our feet and threatens to send us tumbling. It seems to take forever, but eventually we get all the way to the bottom and to the shores of the icy sea.

We can’t help but stop and stare at the wonder before us. The ocean is vast, bluer than a summer sky, and dotted with white ice floes sailing along like ghost ships. In the eerie red light of the moon, they appear to be ablaze, like funeral boats carrying the dead to Valhalla.

My spear pulls me, and I have to fight to keep my balance. It’s pointing to a large iceberg floating in the water. I will have to cross over these disconnected ice floes to get to it.

“There,” I say, pointing it out. “I’m going to have to hop over the gaps.”

Einar looks skeptical. “If you fall, you’ll freeze to death,” he says. “And who knows what’s in this water.”

“Yes. Could be big fish,” says Oski, nodding. “Very big.”

I nod. “But I have to get the time stones. I cannot defeat Katla without them.”

I start taking off all my clothes except for my boots. I don’t want to slip on the ice. “What are you doing?” Einar asks, averting his eyes.

“I’m going to have to swim under to find the keeper of the spear, remember?”

“You can’t survive a swim that cold!”

“Then I’ll do a warming spell. Besides, I don’t want my clothes to be wet when I return.” I bundle my belongings and toss them over to him. “Make a strong fire here and wait for me. I will be back.”

“We will be here,” says Oski. “Waiting around. As usual.”

I hesitate for a moment. The cold air is biting into my skin, and I know the water will feel like a thousand knives. “Promise me you will be here when I come out,” I say.

Einar looks into my eyes, trying very hard not to look elsewhere. “I will not leave here without you. I’m definitely going to want to see you again,” he adds with a smile.

I grin back at him, pick up my spear, and give him a little jab in the side.

“Hey, ow!” he exclaims. “What was that for?”

“For looking,” I say.

I touch the pouch around my neck. “Warm,” I whisper to the runes, and immediately my core begins to heat up. I’ll have to move fast. This warming spell won’t last forever.

“Bring me back to the land,” I say. “Let me not die in the water.”

With that, I hop onto the first ice floe. It is small and tippy, and I almost tumble into the water. I gain my balance and hop to a larger one. I’m doing well so far. I make it to the main iceberg, victorious. But my spear starts pulling me toward the water. I fight against it, backing away from the edge and regaining my balance.

I am going to have to swim now. As I gaze into the clear blue depths, trying to work up my nerve, I see a large shape swim past. It circles around, and as it comes closer I can see it is the biggest green shark I’ve ever seen.

I look back to the shore where Oski and Einar stand.

“Shark!” I shout, hoping they can hear me.

They can, because Einar starts waving his arms, frantic. He’s telling me not to do it, but I have no choice.

I get my spear ready and wait for the shark to circle as far away from me as possible, and then I dive down into the icy water.