Askel could feel the remanents of Loki’s curse writhing around in Akira’s blood. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t locate the root of the curse. Loki sat behind and to his right, his eyes tightly shut and brow furrowed in concentration. He sat slightly in front of the contraption Eir had set up to pull the blood from his sister’s body. His hands were wrapped in an ominous, undulating, mass of black, oily tendrils. The tendrils themselves seemed almost sentient. They kept trying to make their way back to Akira but Loki was doing something to hold them captive.

Askel’s focus returned to Akira. He was getting increasingly worried. Her breathing had become shallower and her skin pale and clammy.

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“Please hold on, min kjære,” he heard Loki mutter under his breath.

Askel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Why was Loki using terms of endearment with his sister? Why did he look so heartbroken when he’d looked at Akira laying on his bed? Why? Why? Why? The questions were never ending. Freyja help him he had to get the answers before Loki left again. He knew that whatever had caused Loki’s change in demenor since that night in the castle nearly eight months ago had everything to do with Akira. He needed to find out what so he could better protect them both.