LAST BLOODLINE STANDING

The Road Back

The tree was inside her.

Mara felt it with every breath—a warmth in her chest, a presence in her mind. It wasn't painful. It wasn't even uncomfortable. But it was there, constant and undeniable, like a second heartbeat.

"You're different," Ingrid said.

They'd been traveling for two days, pushing the sleds as fast as the terrain allowed. The aurora blazed overhead, brighter than ever, painting the snow in shades of gold and white. The pillar in the distance pulsed with light, visible even from miles away.

"I know."

"Is it the tree?"

"Yes." Mara touched her chest. "It's inside me. It's... watching. Waiting."

"For what?"

"For me to do something. I don't know what yet."

Astrid sat beside Mara, her small hand resting on Mara's arm. The girl had been quiet since they left Dunhaven—quieter than usual. But her eyes were sharp, watching everything.

"She's scared," Astrid said.

"Who? The tree?"

"Yes. She's never been this far from her roots before. It hurts her."

Mara felt a pang of guilt. The tree had given her power, connection, purpose. And now she was dragging it across the frozen world, away from everything it knew.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be. This is why I chose you. To go where I cannot. To do what I cannot."

"What can't you do?"

"Destroy the god. Only a mortal can do that. Only a sacrifice freely given."

Mara closed her eyes. The weight of what was coming pressed down on her.

"How?"

"You'll know when the time comes. Trust the child. Trust yourself. Trust the bond between us."

The presence faded. Mara opened her eyes.

"We need to go faster," she said. "The god is waking."

They reached the ice road by nightfall.

The frozen sea stretched before them, pale and endless. The sleds moved easily over the packed snow, but Mara could feel the ice groaning beneath them—shifting, cracking, waking.

"The god is in the water," she said. "It's spreading."

"The pillar is still holding," Ingrid replied. "Eira is still fighting."

"For how long?"

No one answered.

They pushed through the night, stopping only when the sled dogs—borrowed from Dunhaven—could run no more. Mara built a fire while Ingrid fed the animals. Astrid sat apart, her eyes fixed on the distant pillar.

"She's tired," the girl said.

"Eira?"

"Yes. She's been holding the door for so long. She's starting to forget who she is."

Mara's blood ran cold. "Forget?"

"The god is consuming her. Slowly. The way it consumed everyone else." Astrid looked at Mara. "She doesn't have much time."

"We need to hurry."

"We're already too late."

Mara dreamed of Eira that night.

She stood in the void—but it was different now. Darker. Colder. The stars were fading, one by one, swallowed by an absence that was not quite darkness.

"Eira?"

"Mara." The voice was faint. Broken. "You came back."

"I'm coming. We're coming. Just hold on."

"I'm trying. But it's so hard. The god is..." A pause. "It's showing me things. My mother. Jonas. Everyone I've lost. It says if I let go, I can be with them again."

"It's lying."

"I know. But knowing doesn't make it easier."

"Eira, listen to me. You're not alone. You've never been alone. We're coming. Astrid is coming. She's the key. She can destroy it."

"Astrid?" A flicker of hope. "The child?"

"Yes. She's connected to something older. Something that can help us."

"The tree."

"You know about the tree?"

"I've seen it. In the void. It's been watching me. Waiting." Another pause. "Mara. When you get here—when you face the god—don't try to save me. Save the child. Save the world. Let me go."

"I can't do that."

"You have to. I'm already gone. I've been gone since the moment I touched the pillar. The only thing keeping me here is the door. And the door is breaking."

"Then we'll fix it."

"Mara—"

"Trust me. Just hold on a little longer. I'm coming."

The dream ended.

They reached Varrholm three days later.

The town was gone. Not destroyed—erased. Buildings had been replaced by mounds of snow. Streets had been swallowed by ice. Only the pillar remained, rising from the frozen harbor, pulsing with light that was not quite green, not quite gold, but something in between.

"The door," Mara breathed. "It's still there."

"But for how long?" Ingrid asked.

They left the sleds at the edge of town and walked toward the pillar. The ice was thin here—cracking beneath their boots. The wind howled. The aurora blazed.

Astrid stopped at the edge of the harbor.

"She's here," the girl said. "Eira. She's in the pillar."

"How do you know?"

"I can feel her. She's... screaming."

Mara's heart clenched. "We need to get her out."

"We can't. Not without the ritual." Astrid looked at her. "The tree showed you. The ritual requires a life for a life. A soul for a soul."

"I know."

"Do you? Because it means one of us has to die."

Mara looked at the girl. At her small face, her green eyes, her doll clutched against her chest. She was so young. So fragile. So loved.

"I'll do it," Mara said.

"No." Astrid shook her head. "It has to be me. I'm the vessel. The key. The god created me for this."

"You're a child."

"I'm not. Not really. I'm something the god made. Something it wanted to use." Astrid's eyes blazed. "But I can choose now. I can choose to be something else. Something good."

"Astrid—"

"Don't." The girl stepped forward, her small hand pressing against Mara's cheek. "You've been like a mother to me. You've protected me. Loved me. No one's ever done that before."

"Then let me protect you now."

"You can't. Not from this." Astrid smiled—a real smile, warm and sad. "But you can help me. When the time comes. You can hold my hand. You can tell me it's okay."

Mara's eyes filled with tears. "I can't let you die."

"You have to. It's the only way." Astrid looked at the pillar. "Eira's waiting. The god is waking. We're running out of time."

Ingrid stepped forward. "There has to be another way."

"There isn't." Astrid's voice was steady. "The tree showed me. The god showed me. Even the void showed me. This is the only path."

She walked toward the pillar.

The ice cracked beneath her feet.

Mara followed, her heart pounding. Ingrid stayed behind, her rifle raised, watching for any sign of Niko or the god's servants.

Astrid reached the pillar and pressed her hand against the black stone. The light intensified, pulsing with a rhythm that matched Mara's heartbeat.

"It's time," the girl said.

"What do I do?"

"Hold me. Don't let go."

Mara knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around the small body. She could feel the tree inside her—watching, waiting, afraid.

"Close your eyes," Astrid whispered. "And think of something beautiful."

Mara closed her eyes. She thought of her mother. Of Varrholm before the god. Of the tree, warm and alive beneath the ice.

She thought of Astrid, laughing. Playing. Free.

The light blazed.

And the world dissolved.

Astrid has chosen to sacrifice herself to destroy the god, believing it's the only way. Mara has promised to hold her hand and let her go. But is this truly the only path? Or is there another way that neither of them can see? When someone you love chooses to die, do you honor their choice or fight for them no matter the cost?