NORSE

ERIK

ANCIENT DIG SITE, NORWAY

My gaze sweeps over the men and women digging in the ancient spot—a spot that was once our actual village.

None of the structures stand from our time. The home we shared with our queen only exists in my memories now. I’ll admit that I prefer the modern buildings though.

This log cabin we reside in now keeps the nasty cold winds out without the constant sounds of whistling.

But most everything else in modern times drives me crazy. I’ve lived far longer than I ever wanted to. We don’t age, get ill, or die. It’s discouraging to know we’ll be stuck in this life forever.

We haven’t found the amulet or our queen yet, and each unpromising day that passes makes me feel gloomier by the second.

“This is completely ridiculous. How have we not found the amulet yet?”

I move away from the window and pace the room, glaring over at Leif and Torsten—the other kings doomed to live this miserable existence with me.

“Relax, Erik,” Leif says as he jumps up from his spot to slap me on the back. “The amulet is pointless without her anyway.”

Her. Our queen.

My soul was ripped from me the moment we lost her. I haven’t felt whole in several centuries. We’ve looked for our queen every day since she was taken from us.

Every blonde woman with any kind of freckles behind her ears has been in our bed—none of them have been her; none of them could handle us either.

“No, really? I had no idea,” I say back in a dry tone. “I’m not really in the mood for your shit today, Leif.”

I move back to the window to peer out. The clouds are moving in from the north, slowly blocking out the sunlight and any warmth it would have provided.

The crackling fireplace behind me is our only source of heat, warming my backside. I find there are similar things about our time compared to this time—a fire to keep us warm, for instance.

But the thought brings back memories that are too painful to recall.

Every day gets colder without our queen, and each day that passes without her feels like we’re getting closer and closer to Niflheim—the underworld, or what Christians call Hell.

But we can’t die, and I often think we’re already there.

“He’s just trying to be helpful,” Torsten says roughly from his spot in the corner. He’s a man of very few words, but he’s the only one who can keep me grounded.

Running a hand over my tired face and down my beard, I turn and glare at him. “I know that. I’m just—” I blow out a breath and shake my head. “It’s been over a thousand years and we’re still looking.”

I swore to Odin years ago if I ever found the sorcerer who cursed us to this miserable existence, I’d make him suffer the way we’ve suffered before I kill him with my bare hands.

After all these years, I haven’t found him just as I haven’t found our queen nor the amulet.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. We’ve dug up nearly every square inch of this blasted country and nothing! I’m starting to think we might never find it.

“We’ll find it, Erik. We have to,” Leif says as he moves to the fireplace to stoke the flames.

Glancing at Torsten, I shake my head. We’re all losing hope. There isn’t much left in any of us. We’ve been looking for hundreds of years.

I’m starting to think the sorcerer who cursed us knew we’d never find what we’re looking for. It’s as if the prick took both our queen and the amulet and hid them together in a place we’d never find them.

The only place I can think of is the astral plane—where our souls can’t get to.

“And if we don’t?” I ask, feeling the veins in my neck throb. “Then what? We live for the rest of our lives in this Odin Forsaken realm? We can’t even end it…”

I turn back to the window and peer out, remembering the year I tried to take my own life. 1735 was not a good year.

We had been traveling by boat from one island to the next, digging and looking for any sign of our beloved. I had a moment of weakness and slit my own throat.

My body collapsed along the shore, filling the sea at my feet with my crimson blood. Yet I still breathed, and my heart still hammered in my chest. Death would not come.

The gnarly slash in my throat had healed by morning, only leaving behind a thin scar I still have today. I can’t look in the mirror without remembering what wouldn’t come that day.

When the world comes to an end, I have a feeling we’ll still be here. What could possibly happen to the three of us when we can’t die?

“Erik, look,” Leif says breathlessly, pointing out the window. “Could it…could it be?”

My gaze follows his finger, and I catch a glimpse of the woman he’s pointing at.

All the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight out; a shivering chill dances down my spine and I stop breathing.

Torsten comes up beside me, pushing his long locks from his face as he peers out himself.

None of us say a single word as we watch the woman with hair white as snow walk through the dig site with one of our veteran diggers.

We’ve gotten our hopes up before, so I won’t try to do it again, but we have to make sure.

“Leif, go out and introduce yourself to the white-haired woman,” I instruct, never pulling my gaze from the beautiful woman.

Out of the three of us, Leif is the one who can charm anyone into trusting him.

I’m a little rough around the edges, demanding what I want without shame.

And Torsten? It’s hard enough to get more than a few words out of him at a time.

“What should I say to her?” Leif asks with a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

He’s excited. We all are. Any time we see a white-haired woman, we can’t help but feel a little hope that she might be the one.

“Anything you want except that she might be our long-lost queen. Don’t scare the girl, but don’t let her go either.”

I rub my short beard again, staring out at the woman in question as she walks by our cabin.

She looks up, and I inhale a sharp breath. I can see from this distance that her eyes are green as sage, making my heart pound like the rhythmic war drums of our warriors.

This has to be it this time. She has to be the one.