that now. Heimdallr ushered them into the portal of the guardhouse. The sisters stepped through the arch of the guardhouse door—and into brilliant sunlight, so dazzling after the dark night of the other side that they all had to pause to get their bearings.
And then they looked out into the Wyrd.
Aurora often watched the young humans who came to the fairs and festivals in the park across from where Luke lived. When she saw them dancing on the grass with their psychedelic clothes and beatific smiles, the Wyrd was always what she thought of. Everything was alive and lit from within with a fairy-tale radiance.
The sisters now stood in a field of springlike beauty, with a ribbon of river running through it, silver and singing. Ygddrasil, the world tree, towered above them, a gigantic ash, white trunk smooth and stately, its branches open to touch the entire universe, all nine realms.
Aurora gazed out in wonder. Everything existed here, there and nowhere—all present, all eternal. She felt exhilaration and peace all at once.
Someone spoke her name. Aurora came back to herself and looked at Lena. “They’re waiting,” her older sister said, and the three sisters moved across the shining field.
Slightly beyond it, glowing like a jewel, there was a round building made from the purest moonstone, as befitted its name: the Hall of the Moon. Ahead, the doors of the hall swung slowly open, commanding entry.
The sisters moved through the great shining doors. Inside, the hall was liquid with mirrors, which glimmered with ever-changing reflections. Aurora’s heart beat faster as the cool radiance of the hall surrounded them.
As she followed her sisters she glanced around, glimpsing all the days of her existence in the silvery windows around her. She saw Luke there, as a child, as a teenager, as a college student, as a man, every episode of his life... And she saw herself, as a child, as a teenager, as a woman, always there, always watching him longingly.
She became aware of Val staring daggers at her, and Lena took her arm, gently steering her forward.
The three Eternals were seated on silver thrones in the center of the hall, around a giant silver loom, where every day they wove the Web of Fate.
Aurora felt fear and calm equally in their presence; they were beautiful and terrifying, as old and as powerful, as the tree Ygddrasil itself. Urd, Verdandi and Skuld: That Which Was, That Which Is and That Which Will Be. Urd, with her spindle to spin the threads of life; Verdandi, who wove the cloth on the loom; and Skuld, hovering silently with her scissors to cut the threads at the end of mortal life. Urd was all in white, promising endless possibility, Verdandi in red, reflecting the heat of life, and Skuld was all in black, signifying the end of life, and always veiled, so none could know her secrets.
Now Urd looked up from her spindle and glanced toward the younger Norns, raised a hand, summoning them. “Come, daughters.”
Aurora swallowed and followed her sisters forward across the mosaic floor. They stopped before the semicircle of thrones and bowed to the Eternals; Urd nodded acceptance of the homage and then spread her hands, a question and a reproof.
“Come and see,” she said, and passed a hand over the tapestry on the loom. The sisters moved forward slowly, and looked down at the shimmering, multicolored weave.
The fabric seemed alive, constantly changing. Aurora could see forests, cities, families, lovers—a carousel of images of the world, past, present and future. She was captivated.
And then Skuld raised a black-gloved hand and silently pointed.
There, in the middle of the tapestry, a golden thread was broken and twisted, a glaring flaw in the perfection of the weave.
Aurora stared down in confusion and dismay. It looked like an ugly rip in the fabric of life itself.
She looked up—and saw that all three of the Eternals were regarding her silently. With a jolt, Aurora realized what she was seeing.
“I did that?” she whispered.
Verdandi sighed. “The web is closely woven. One man’s fate cannot simply stop without all others being affected.”
As they watched, another thread popped, creating another hole in the delicate tapestry.
Val shot Aurora a look of triumph, then stepped forward with a deference that Aurora knew to be absolutely false humility. “Your Highnesses, if I may speak...”
Urd motioned to her, and Val barreled forward. “At his birth, I claimed the mortal Luke Mars for Odin. He has been a warrior all his life, in every aspect of his life. He was to have died gloriously in battle—last night, by earth’s time. Now while Odin awaits his service in Valhalla, the mortal’s whole life has stopped, which is affecting the Weave of Life.”
The Eternals turned their eyes toward Aurora and she faltered under the power of that triple gaze. But she thought of Luke, of his passion and fire, and she lifted her head and said nothing.
Urd, the Norn of the Past, touched her fingers lightly to the tapestry in several places as she looked deeply into it.
“Child, you have overstepped your bounds with this mortal before,” she said.
Aurora dropped her eyes. “I only tried to help...when he was in trouble...”
“She has interfered over and over and over again,” Val argued indignantly.
Aurora felt she was dying inside. I won’t let her take him, she thought in anguish. He has so much to live for.
She had to make the Eternals see. But how?
In desperation she stepped forward. “Are not mortals allowed to choose their own fate?” she asked, and her voice seemed breathless, but steady.
The Eternals glanced at one another. It was Verdandi who spoke. “Not only allowed, it is always to be so. If a mortal dares, all of the universe must support that choice.”
Aurora lifted her head, straightened her shoulders. “Then I ask that Luke Mars be allowed to choose his fate.”
Val practically exploded beside her. “He’s a man. You don’t even know that he wants to choose his fate...” Lena nudged her and Val fell silent.
Urd frowned, and the Eternals looked around at one another again. The three elegant giantesses leaned forward on their thrones to confer.
Aurora waited in suspended agony. They must let him live, they must...
Finally Verdandi stood and moved forward. Waves of radiance and power flowed from her.
“Mortals must be able to choose their own destinies, if they so dare.” Her luminous eyes looked straight down into Aurora’s, and Aurora felt her breath suspend. “We give you one day, daughter.”
Aurora’s heart lifted, then Verdandi said sternly, “You must unstop Time for him.”
Aurora bowed her head. “I will, Highness.”
“And then you have a day. One earth day, from dawn till dawn. The mortal Luke Mars may choose his own destiny—if he desires. He will make his decision,
