Chapter 49
The next morning, Loki woke me sweetly with a kiss to let me know he was off to make it look like he was leaving again—but he would teleport back and wake me once he returned.
So I closed my eyes again, and just as he promised, I was woken by his lips brushing mine. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, kissing him deeply. I felt him respond immediately, his body moving against mine with a familiar, eager rhythm. But then something unexpected hit me—a powerful surge of emotion. It wasn’t desire, not exactly. It was need. Urgent and overwhelming. I didn’t want to let him go. I couldn’t. The intensity of it scared me.
Loki stilled, his breath ragged as he pulled back slightly. “What was that?” he asked, searching my face. “I felt it through the bond.”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It just hit me out of nowhere.”
I sat up, trying to shake it off—and then a wave of nausea rolled over me. I groaned, one hand going to my mouth.
“Do Æsir get sick?” I asked. “I mean… like this? I’ve been feeling a little off for a while now. Nothing major—just... off. A bit weak sometimes, instances of feeling overly emotional. And sometimes nausea that comes and goes.”
Loki’s expression shifted instantly, concern flashing in his eyes. “Sickness among the Æsir is rare. When it does happen, it tends to be severe. Most of us are resistant to illness, especially as we grow older. Æsir children are more vulnerable in early years, but even then our immune systems are strong. You, being half-Æsir, might still be susceptible to certain things I would not catch.”
He leaned forward and placed a hand gently on my forehead. I could feel his worry as clearly as his touch, and it made me smile despite the discomfort.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have a fever,” I said. “I’ve just had an upset stomach on and off lately. It happened again now—and the two weeks you were away, there were really deep moments then, when I missed you so intensely it was like something inside me was unraveling. And then the next day, it was tolerable again.”
Loki frowned. “I can delay my return and take you to Lady Eir right now.”
I shook my head, reaching for his hand. “Loki, I’m not dying. Go meet Hela. I’ll go see Lady Eir after breakfast. If there’s anything wrong, I’ll use our bond and tell you.”
He still looked unconvinced.
“If you haven’t heard from me by midday, that means I’m fine and you can stop worrying,” I said firmly.
That earned me a reluctant smile. “Very well. I promise, as long as you keep yours.”
I leaned in and kissed him again. “You have my word. If Lady Eir finds anything off, I’ll contact you. Otherwise, she gives me a clean bill of health and we both move on. We can talk about it then the next time you contact me.”
He nodded. “Deal. Then I am off—and for the first time in forever, I hope not to hear from you in the next few hours.”
I laughed softly as he merged our Seiðr again, transferring a large amount to himself. He kissed me once more, gave me a wink, and vanished.
The drain of Seiðr hit me immediately. I felt the fatigue settle over me like a weight, heavier than the last time, but I pushed it aside and called Yara to bring me a light Elven breakfast. I didn’t want anything heavy.
After I finished eating, I explained my promise to Loki, and Yara accompanied me to Lady Eir’s healing chambers.
Lady Eir listened carefully to my symptoms and nodded thoughtfully. “I have not heard of these particular symptoms before,” she admitted. “But I would like to examine you on the Soul Forge, just to be certain.”
I agreed and lay down as she turned several dials. A soft hum filled the room, and a three-dimensional projection of my body shimmered into view above the forge.
“This will reveal any infections present within your body,” she explained, adjusting the settings. “Anything abnormal should appear in a different color.”
But nothing changed. The projection remained clear.
“As you can see—nothing,” she said with a small smile. “I will now scan for known ailments specific to human physiology, just in case.”
She turned a few more dials and watched the readings. Again—nothing.
Satisfied, she motioned me to sit up and guided me into her private office. “I would like to ask you a few personal questions,” she said gently, then asked Yara to wait outside. “You are, of course, free not to answer—but know that anything you say here will remain confidential. Not even the All-Father can compel me to speak of what is discussed between patient and healer.”
“I understand. Thank you for saying so,” I said sincerely as I took a seat.
She sat across from me. “I know of your origins, and of your bond with Prince Loki. I do not mean your courtship—I mean the connection between you, and the degree of Seiðr you both wield.”
I nodded.
“Have you and Loki been using your Seiðr frequently in the past weeks?” she asked. “Specifically your own?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “We’ve been sharing quite a bit of mine on a regular basis.”
She nodded, as if that confirmed something. “And did the symptoms begin before or after that practice started?”
I thought for a moment, then smiled with a bit of relief. “After.”
Lady Eir returned the smile. “Then I believe that explains it. Regular use of that much Seiðr may be causing these effects. You are not ill—not in the way you feared. But it is a kind of fatigue. Nothing dangerous, but it may increase if you continue at the same pace.”
I nodded. “So I’m not at risk of collapsing again like I did before?”
“I do not believe so,” she said. “But if your symptoms worsen, I would like to examine you again.”
“Understood. And thank you.”
As we left her office, I saw Yara waiting and gave her a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” I told her. “It’s just a side effect of me working a little too hard with my Seiðr. I’ll be fine.”
I could feel her relief wash over me.
And truthfully… so was I.
With Loki gone again, I’d fallen back into my routine with Frigga and Yara. I visited Shadow often, though I couldn’t ride him—I’d promised Loki I wouldn’t leave the palace grounds. Still, it was fun to watch him gallop and play in the paddock together, his energy a bright spot in the quiet days.
Nearly a week had passed since Loki left when a raven from Thor arrived. There was nothing new to report. I took it as a sign that Loki was still searching and they were holding their ground.
It had started snowing heavily in the meantime, and though it was cold, I loved walking in the gardens. Even blanketed in snow, they were beautiful. Still, I was grateful whenever Frigga invited me into her warm, sunlit private gardens for a walk. They felt like stepping into spring.
Now, nearly three weeks had gone by since I’d last seen Loki. Normally, he returned once a week—using the hidden portals and drawing on my Seiðr before slipping back to his assignment. But this time was different.
We hadn’t spoken often—not casually, not the way we used to. But there had been a steady stream of important messages through the bond. So I knew he was safe. He was deep in enemy territory now, unable to risk leaving a double behind. He and Hela were scouting the suspected location of the Skull of Specters. They’d received critical information—and if we could get that damned thing, this whole ordeal might finally be over. Together, they were searching, relying on Hela’s unique connection to the underworld and Loki’s cunning to navigate through hostile ground.
I was doing my best without him. I really was. But I missed him so much. Each week that passed without seeing him left me a little more desperate. I tried to rally, to keep calm, to stay focused—but there were still moments, strange emotional lows that crept in without warning, when the ache of missing him settled into my bones like a chill I couldn’t shake. I kept going, stayed strong for everyone around me, but the truth was, I missed him more than I wanted to admit. And I hated how fragile it made me feel.
I was walking through the private gardens with Frigga when it happened—a sudden, overwhelming wave of pain and fear slammed into me. My knees gave out.
And then I heard his voice—his real voice—as my neck tingled with magic.
"Aurora… tell Thor it was a trap."
That was all. The connection went silent, and I felt his emotions vanish.
I immediately focused on our bond. "Loki? Are you alright?" I asked in panic, but there was no reply.
Even reaching out that much, I felt it—the sharp drain of Seiðr. I had never used so much for a single connection before. He must have been incredibly far away. It left me lightheaded, the edges of my vision blurring for a moment as the effort caught up with me.
Frigga was suddenly beside me, crouched, holding me to keep me from toppling over.
“It was Loki,” I gasped. “He was in pain. Scared. He only said one thing: ‘Tell Thor it was a trap.’ I tried to reach him again, but—nothing.”
Frigga’s expression hardened as she stood, her hand flickering with magic. She stilled, staring into space, clearly reaching out with her foresight. But after a moment, she let the spell fade. Worry etched deep lines into her face.
“I cannot see Loki. Or Hela,” she said, and helped me to my feet.
“We need to go to Odin.”
I nodded and hurried beside her as we moved through the garden. As we reached the corridor, Frigga paused and tilted her head upward.
“Heimdall, meet us at Odin’s counsel room as soon as possible,” she said to no one in particular, and resumed her brisk pace.
We entered Odin’s private chambers behind the throne room. His council was mid-session, but the moment Frigga stepped inside, the room went silent.
She looked at Odin, and he seemed to understand immediately.
“Clear the room,” he ordered, and the council scattered, guards included.
As the door shut behind the last of them, Heimdall entered, his posture rigid.
“My Queen,” he said with a bow.
Frigga turned to Odin. “Aurora felt a surge of pain and fear from Loki. He left her a message.”
Odin turned his gaze to me, and I steadied myself.
“He said, ‘Tell Thor it was a trap.’ I tried to reach him after that, but there was no answer.”
Odin nodded sharply, then turned to Heimdall. “Can you see my son?”
Heimdall straightened, his golden eyes unfocused as he looked across realms. He remained silent for a long moment before lowering his head.
“No, my King. I had been keeping a general eye on him, as you requested. He has been careful not to block my view. But now—I cannot see him. Either he is blocking me… or someone else is.”
Odin’s jaw clenched. “Can you see Thor? Does he know what has happened?”
Heimdall tilted his head again and went quiet.
Frigga summoned parchment and a quill with a flick of her hand, already writing a message.
Odin turned back to me. “Try again. Ask if he can give us anything more.”
I nodded, already reaching inward. Loki, please… are you alright? Can you tell us anything else? Heimdall cannot see you. We’re writing to Thor now.
Still nothing.
But I could feel it—that drain again, like water pouring from a cracked jug. My Seiðr was slipping away fast.
“He’s not responding,” I said.
“Keep trying,” Odin said. “Search the bond. Anything could help.”
I took a deep breath and reached again, even as my limbs trembled.
"Loki—please."
But before I could finish the thought, a sudden snap jolted through me—like a door slamming shut in my mind.
The privacy lock.
It slammed into place mid-connection, sealing the bond and cutting me off completely.
The shock, combined with the loss of Seiðr, was too much. My knees buckled, and I would have hit the floor had Heimdall not caught me.
Frigga rushed to my side. “Aurora?”
I gave a faint, dizzy smile. “He cut me off. He locked me out. It is something we can use if we do not want the other person inside our thoughts.”
I tried to step away from Heimdall, but the moment I did, my legs gave out again, and my vision spun.
“I think…I overdid it,” I whispered.
“I am taking you to Lady Eir,” Frigga said at once.
In one smooth motion, Heimdall scooped me into his arms. Frigga cast an illusion over us as we moved through the palace, shielding me from prying eyes. I was too tired to care, but still grateful for it.
At the healing ward, I was placed gently on the Soul Forge table. Lady Eir hurried over.
“What has happened?” she asked, alarmed.
“She has used a great deal of Seiðr,” Frigga explained. “Please check her thoroughly.”
Lady Eir nodded. Frigga turned to me, her voice gentle. “Aurora, do you wish me to stay?”
I blinked, struggling to focus. “You can stay. But if there is anything you can do to help Loki—go.”
Lady Eir turned, issued a brief order, and the entire room cleared.
“You may speak freely now,” Lady Eir said softly.
“Then I shall leave you. Normally I would remain, but there are things I can assist Odin with in locating Loki,” Frigga said, her voice firm but full of maternal warmth. “As soon as I have any news—or when I am no longer of use to Odin in finding my son—I shall return at once.”
All I could do was nod as I watched her and Heimdall exit the healing ward.
Lady Eir returned to the console, adjusting the dials on the Soul Forge. I did my best to fight the wave of nausea building inside me, but she noticed before I could say a word. With a flick of her wrist, a bowl appeared, held out just in time.
I rolled onto my side and emptied my stomach into it as she gently held my hair. When I was done, the bowl vanished in a shimmer of Seiðr. She walked around the table, returning with a washcloth and a small glass of water.
“Can you sit up?” she asked.
I tried, and she carefully helped me into a sitting position. I pressed the cool cloth against my face, then took a small sip of the water. It tasted citrusy—lemon, perhaps—and helped clear the awful taste from my mouth.
“You should drink it all. It will help settle your stomach,” she advised softly.
I did as she instructed, then lay back down.
“With your permission,” she began, “I would like to perform a deep scan and compare it to the last time I analyzed your Seiðr. This scan is more precise and may take longer, but I wish to assess the extent of your depletion so we may determine a safe threshold for future use.”
I nodded, too tired to speak.
“If you feel sleepy, do not resist it. I shall wake you when I have the results,” she added gently.
I nodded again, but sleep would not come—not with my thoughts full of Loki. I tried to calm my mind, but instead watched her adjust the dials, needing something to focus on.
“Is he in a great deal of danger?” Lady Eir asked after a while. I could sense how worried she was. “I have cared for him since he was a baby,” she added with a fond smile. “Normally, I would not ask, but I cannot help myself. You have my word that nothing you say shall be repeated.”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t know for sure, but yes. He was searching for someone very dangerous, and it seems like he fell into some kind of trap.”
She nodded slowly. “He has always been slippery and talented,” she murmured, with the quiet pride of someone who had watched him grow. “I am certain he shall find a way to return safely.”
I managed a faint smile. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.”
Time passed quietly as she worked. Eventually, she stepped back, looking up at the glowing scan above.
“The scan is complete. I shall display your original baseline on the left and today’s reading on the right. This current scan is more detailed, but it should clearly illustrate the change in your Seiðr.”
Above me, the images appeared. The left scan glowed in vivid sea-glass green. On the right, the color was noticeably dimmer—fainter, weaker—but at the same time, not dramatically so. It was clearly the result of my recent Seiðr drain, yet not as severe as I had expected. A bright emerald-green patch pulsed steadily at the base of my neck.
“Loki and I are bonded,” I explained, seeing her puzzled expression. “The old guardian-priestess bond. That is his Seiðr you are seeing. If you scanned him, you would find a sea-glass green spot in the same place.”
Her brows lifted in surprise. “May I see it?”
I nodded, rolling onto my side. I removed the illusion with a thought, brushing my hair aside so she could examine the mark.
I heard her soft gasp.
“This…it appears you are more than simply bonded as priestess and guardian,” she said, gently letting my hair fall back into place.
I rolled back and replaced the illusion. “We are. We’re soulmates,” I said simply.
Lady Eir smiled warmly. “My father once spoke of a bond such as yours. He described it as the deepest connection anyone could ever have.”
I nodded slowly, not surprised. The word settled in my heart like it had always belonged there.
She turned back to the scan and zoomed out, studying the full-body projection again. I followed her gaze—and suddenly, my eyes caught something else.
“Lady Eir…why is that patch of Seiðr a different shade?” I asked, pointing to a small area near my lower abdomen. “It is not sea-glass green like the rest—it is blue. A sort of icy blue, though difficult to notice with all the bluish-green of my own Seiðr around it.”
Lady Eir leaned in, narrowing her eyes—and her face went pale.
She stared for a moment longer, then slowly straightened.
“Aurora,” she said slowly, “may I use my Seiðr to scan you further?”
I raised a brow. “Sure,” I said, and with a flicker, the image flashed and vanished. She gently placed her hand on my stomach. I could feel her Seiðr flow through me and saw a frown forming on her forehead. She was concentrating very hard, and I could sense her emotions clearly.
She was curious about something and intensely focused. Suddenly, there was a shock of realization. Her eyes widened.
“What?” was all I asked.
“I believe I have found the reason you become nauseated when you use large amounts of your Seiðr,” she said softly. “Please come into my office. It is layered with a spell that prevents anyone from observing our conversation—not even Heimdall.”
I raised my eyebrow but followed as she helped me down from the table.
Once inside, I again took my seat at her desk, and she did the same. She handed me a small bottle, and I drank without question, recognizing it from last time and knowing it would help me regain strength faster.
“Aurora, the other color we observed—do you know its precise location?” she asked.
I nodded. “In my abdomen,” I replied, though it seemed an odd question. Surely, she had noted its location as clearly as I had.
She nodded carefully. “Yes, but to be precise, it is in your womb.”
It felt as though the world dropped out from under me. My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to speak, but words stuck somewhere between thought and lips. “Then that color…?” My voice faltered, my mind struggling to process.
“That color appears to be an independent Seiðr signature,” she confirmed, nodding solemnly.
I was stunned, the implications slowly settling in. Yet as I studied her face, I felt no joy emanating from her, only sadness.
“Then why are you not happy for me?” I asked, confused and increasingly fearful. “I thought pregnancy in Asgard was magical, rare—something celebrated? Is it because Loki and I are not married?”
She quickly shook her head, eyes glistening with tears.
“Please, Lady Eir, you have to tell me. You are frightening me,” I pleaded urgently.
A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. “Aurora, you must understand that what I am about to tell you is one of the greatest secrets I have ever held. I swore, on pain of death, to the king and queen that I would never reveal it. Even he does not know himself.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I am telling you only because you have a right to know, given your situation, and because I believe you to be his soulmate.”
I nodded silently, sensing how fragile her resolve was.
“Loki is not the biological son of Odin and Frigga. He was brought to me when he was just a baby, severely malnourished, on the brink of death. I cared for him for nearly a week before I was certain he would survive. Frigga remained at his side constantly—she instantly fell in love with him. She had just suffered a miscarriage and poured all her love and grief into raising Loki.”
My eyes widened at her revelation. “Loki does not know this?” I asked softly.
Lady Eir shook her head slowly. “No. He believes they are his biological parents.”
“So, your tears are because you think that now I know he is not royalty by blood, I will not want his child?” Anger flared in my voice. “You know that I am not royalty either—Odin made that up. I am only half Æsir by accident. I would never hurt Loki like that!” My voice rose, louder than I intended.
Tears continued streaming silently down Lady Eir’s face. “No, Aurora, you do not understand. Loki is not even Æsir.”
Her words struck me silent.
She shook her head sadly, despair evident. “He appears Æsir only because Odin and Frigga had the Norns place a powerful, untraceable spell upon him. Loki is a Frost Giant by birth.”
“So?” I asked defiantly, tears prickling my eyes—angry tears. “Are they monstrous? Because I do not care what Loki looks like, even if they removed that spell.”
Lady Eir covered her face with her hands briefly, shaking her head fervently. “Without the spell, Loki’s skin would be blue, his eyes red, and ridges would cover his body. He would also be significantly colder to the touch, although with his Seiðr, this would pose no issue. Other than those differences, he would appear the same. I was present when they transformed the baby, and all the spell did was alter his coloration, remove the ridges, and normalize his body temperature. Nothing else was changed.”
She took a deep breath, removing her hands from her face, visibly composing herself. For the first time, her expression took on the calm neutrality of a healer suppressing emotion.
“I am telling you this not to frighten you into leaving him, but because it means your baby is part human, part Æsir, and part Frost Giant,” she explained gently.
Realization settled heavily over me. She saw it in my face and continued carefully, “While it is clearly possible for you to conceive such a child—we have proof of that—I do not believe you can carry it to full term. An Æsir baby alone would greatly tax your body. We have seen such pregnancies before: even when the mother is half Æsir, the baby is always fully Æsir, ensuring a difficult but survivable pregnancy for both mother and child, despite any human heritage.”
She paused, allowing me a moment to absorb her words. Tears streamed unchecked down my face, and my stomach twisted painfully.
“But a Frost Giant baby?” I asked weakly.
She shook her head gravely. “There has never been a successful pregnancy between a Frost Giant and an Æsir. There have been attempts—people fall in love—but every pregnancy ended in tragedy. When a Frost Giant mother carried an Æsir child, the baby died, though the mother survived. But with an Æsir mother and a Frost Giant father, neither survived. In the pregnancy’s final stage, the child assumes its natural temperature, far too low for an Æsir body. People have tried—even with a constant flow of Seiðr warming and protecting the mother, the baby could not be saved. The mother’s body freezes from within, killing both mother and child within hours.”
She looked at me sadly, her pain palpable.
“And I am not even full Æsir, just half,” I whispered, defeated.
She nodded solemnly.
“Is there nothing we could do? With Seiðr? Loki and I are both extremely skilled,” I pressed desperately.
Lady Eir shook her head slowly. “Interfering with pregnancy through Seiðr is not possible. Even if by some miracle the child survived, even if it were not horribly deformed, it would still mean your death.”
I remembered Angrboda and Loki’s children. Angrboda had died trying to force her pregnancy through magic, and it had changed their children, who should have been full Frost Giants. I wondered if she had known about Loki's true heritage before she decided to use magic, but I cleared my head and refocused on Lady Eir.
“Then what are my options?” I asked, feeling an icy dread wash over me.
Lady Eir walked around the table, took my hand, and knelt beside me. “The only option would be to surgically terminate the pregnancy. However, it will likely cost you your womb, as Frost Giant pregnancies differ significantly from Æsir ones. Even at a very early stage, they instinctively protect themselves from harm.”
“So, I’ll never be able to have children again,” I whispered, tears once again streaming down my face.
Lady Eir stood, gently embracing me as I sobbed into her shoulder. “I am deeply sorry, my dear. It will be a difficult surgery, and your body will require significant time to heal afterward.”
I pulled back, my voice shaking. “How long do I have before I start showing, or before it becomes dangerous for me?”
She considered carefully before responding. “I believe in your case, the total pregnancy would last around twenty-four months. Both Æsir and Frost Giant children grow slowly compared to humans, so you will likely start showing in approximately seven months. But my strongest recommendation is to undergo the procedure as soon as possible. Waiting will only make it harder, both emotionally and physically.”
I shook my head, resolved despite my trembling voice. “I understand, but I’m not doing anything without Loki. It should be his decision too. I already know what he will choose, but I cannot exclude him from this process. He is missing now, but we have time before anyone notices?”
Here’s the refined version of that line, aligned with your tone and character style, and keeping Lady Eir’s voice formal and steady:
She nodded solemnly. “Yes, and if that is your choice, I shall respect it. However, if your life becomes endangered at any point, and removing the child is the only way to save you, I will not hesitate to act. Just be aware—the longer you wait, the greater the risk becomes. You may reach a point where survival is no longer possible.”
I nodded again, trying to stand, but instantly sinking back into the chair, my legs weak.
“Would you like me to summon the Queen for you?” Lady Eir asked gently. “She could offer you comfort.”
“NO,” I snapped, anger flaring suddenly. “Frigga knew all of this. She knew this could happen, and still she did not tell Loki about his heritage, or at least provide some excuse why we should take precautions instead of just letting nature run its course!” I was shouting now, irrationally directing my rage toward Lady Eir, even though it was Odin and Frigga who had betrayed us.
Lady Eir paled visibly. “I am certain they would have informed you eventually. It is extremely unusual for Æsir, half-Æsir, or even Frost Giants to conceive a child this quickly. Normally it takes hundreds, sometimes thousands of years.”
“I don’t care!” I shouted. “She should have prevented this, or at the very least warned me or Loki. But she didn’t, and I can never forgive either of them.” My anger dissolved into tears again, and Lady Eir silently pulled me back into her comforting embrace. I wanted Loki—I desperately needed him now—but he was in danger, gods knew where. Exhausted, I continued sobbing until no tears remained, feeling utterly drained and hopeless.
Eventually, I pulled away, wiping my tears. “Lady Eir, I need you to swear to me you will tell no one about this. Not Frigga, not Odin. The only person you may tell is Loki himself, and only if I am unable to do so.”
She nodded solemnly. “You have my word, Princess Aurora. Should you ever need to talk, or simply to cry, I am here for you—always. However, I must ask you not to reveal to Frigga or Odin that you know Loki’s true heritage. If necessary, you may tell them of the pregnancy. I am certain Frigga will then approach me, and I will convince her to reveal the truth to you. But please, do not let them know you are already aware.”
I hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I promise I won’t tell Odin,” I said quietly. “But Frigga... she might know the moment she sees me. I don’t know how I’ll react. I’ll try—I’ll do everything in my power to help her understand that you told me because it mattered more than the secret. I don’t believe she would hold this against you. I know her. At least, I hope I do.”
Lady Eir studied me for a moment, then gave a soft nod. I saw the relief flicker through her eyes. With that, I turned and left.
When I reached our chambers, I was completely drained. Yara was there, and upon seeing her, I broke down into tears once again. She repeatedly asked what had happened, offering to get help, but I firmly told her I could not share it and asked her to keep quiet about my state. I retreated into my bedchamber, instructing her not to disturb me unless there was urgent news about Loki or the conflict at the Niflheim border.
She agreed, though I felt her profound worry and displeasure. But I needed solitude. My mind was too heavy with grief and worry—I needed peace.
After she left, I didn’t bother undressing, simply collapsing onto the bed. There, I cried until exhaustion overtook me, my thoughts swirling around the baby I would never meet, the child I would never have again, and how I would tell Loki about everything I had learned. I knew, deep down, that he would never forgive Odin and Frigga for their deception. Perhaps, if they had revealed the truth earlier, he could have forgiven them. But now, faced with the loss of his child and the risk to my life, forgiveness would be impossible. Honestly, I didn’t think I could ever forgive them either.