And her sister’s bed was empty.
She dropped the gun on the floor and darted into their bedroom. “No, no, no,” she muttered, frantically yanking the blankets from her sister’s bed. “Esther! Esther, please be here.”
But her sister wasn’t in the bedroom at all. All that remained was a single, snow white letter on Esther’s pillow.
Freya didn’t want to touch the cursed page. Goblin magic was all over it. It sparkled like fresh snow when the sun hit its glistening surface, and all she wanted to do was set the entire room on fire.
Esther couldn’t be gone. She just couldn’t.
Freya’s mind refused to believe what was in front of her, but her heart knew the truth. What other choice did she have?
The goblins considered a gift as a debt, and Esther was the only one who could pay that price. They’d cast a spell on Freya and she’d been asleep for the entire ordeal. Had her sister screamed out for help? Had Esther reached for her while they dragged her from the hut, only to realize Freya couldn’t help?
Tears in her eyes, she lifted the small note from the pillow and turned it over.
Thank you for your sister,
she’ll make a lovely snack.
Please don’t try to find her,
we won’t give her back.
Chapter 4
Freya sat on her sister’s bed for hours with the note clutched in her hand. She poured over the wiggly words, clearly written by an inhuman hand. They had to have some kind of hidden meaning in them. Some quest she could partake in to get her sister back.
But the more she read the letter, the more she realized there was no quest. No deal. No way to win back the lost sister in some heroic story. It clearly stated that she wouldn’t ever get Esther back.
A swell of emotion was building in her chest. She couldn’t think through it. The panic rose into her throat, silencing her voice and bubbling up to her eyes. Tears built, but they refused to spill over.
Freya recognized that she was holding her breath. She needed to inhale or she would pass out, but she couldn’t make her lungs work. Not when her sister was gone. Not when she was going to be alone forever and all her fears were finally realized.
The village wouldn’t take her in. They’d always liked Esther more than her, because her younger sister knew how to be kinder. Softer. Easier to be around. Freya was all about her work and what she needed to get done. She had little time to pause and talk with villagers who didn’t make her own life easier.
They thought she was off-putting. Too difficult, very stubborn, and certainly not the kind of woman who was suitable for a spouse. Let alone friends.
Damn it.
She couldn’t survive without her sister. Her family was more important than anything in this world, and the goblins couldn’t take her sister from her. Not without a fight.
Freya burst into movement. She thundered through the room, a woman on a mission as she stuffed the panic back into her belly. It rolled there, rumbling through her intestines, but she refused to pause.
Her mother had discovered many things about the goblins, and she had to know more than what she’d told Freya. How had she learned how to make the wards? Who had taught her?
A thought appeared in her mind, one that she would never have dared to think when her mother was still here.
No one knew how to get rid of a goblin better than a goblin.
Long before her parents had disappeared, Freya’s father had buried her mother’s books in the backyard. He’d said they were cursed. That they drew the goblins to them because such creatures could sniff out magic like dogs.
Freya grabbed a shovel from the shed behind their house and stomped to the garden. Her father had buried it beneath the turnips because no one in their right mind would ever dig up a good bed of turnips.
But Freya wasn’t in her right mind.
She stomped hard on the shovel, sinking into the earth she had tilled for years. She heaved dirt over her shoulder, not caring where it landed. Sweat slicked her brow, and the sun rose as she destroyed their garden. The box had to be here. It had to be.
Finally, her shovel struck something hard. She fell to her knees and dug her hands into the soil. Shifting it to the side, she revealed a small wooden chest with golden clasps holding it shut. The wood looked like not a single thing had touched it for years. Perfect. Pristine.
Magical.
The chest where her mother had kept all her books had to be part of that Other realm. Where goblins marched to their bells and faeries flew overhead.
Freya planted her feet on either side of the chest and heaved. Her back strained, aching under the weight and hours of digging, but she didn’t stop. Not until the earth released its treasure, and the chest slid out of its tomb.
She pulled it out of the hole in the ground and placed her hands on the golden clasps. Her mother had always said this box wasn’t for the faint of heart. Children shouldn’t know of the magic that made their realm work.
Freya had never wanted to know what was inside. She’d always been rightfully afraid of the goblins and their work.
Her fingers shook as she flipped the latches up. No locks kept it shut. And within the box, she could hear a faint rustling. As though the wooden frame hid something alive within.
She opened it and threw up an arm, just in case something came flying out. She had no idea what would have survived within the box that long, but magic could do many impossible things.
Nothing flew out at her. No attack, no sound, even the faint rustling stopped.
Freya slowly lowered her arm and peered into the chest.
The contents were rather unremarkable. Four books in the right corner, a small terrarium with plants still growing inside it, a jewelry box, and a stack of loose papers that moved as she watched.
Papers shouldn’t move on their own. But they shifted again as she watched.
Was there a mouse or other small creature still alive after years of being buried? She looked back to the hole she’d just dug, and then to the box again. It wasn’t possible. There couldn’t be a creature living within the chest.
Hesitantly, she reached out and picked one page up. There wasn’t anything underneath it, but the page still fluttered in her hand.
“Are you moving?” she whispered.
The page wiggled again.
With a soft sound of fear, she let the page drop from her hand. It wriggled back to the other pages, tunneling under them as though it were frightened of her. But a page of paper couldn’t be afraid. It was just an inanimate object someone had written on a long time ago.
Maybe this was why her father had buried the chest. Unnatural things should remain underground.
Shivering, she braced her hands on the sides of the box. “I need to find my sister.”
The pages all stopped moving. It almost appeared as though they were waiting for something, or perhaps they were listening. Waiting for her to continue asking them more questions.
Licking her lips, Freya tried to still the shaking of her voice. “The goblins took her. They had a necklace she thought was our mother’s, and even though she didn’t make a deal, they still gave her the necklace.”
That made the pages rustle again. Each loose leaf shifted, jostling with each other to move. They reorganized themselves until a single page was on the top.
Making sure the pages understood her need, Freya added, “I need to go into the goblin realm and find her. I have to get her back.”