“You can’t get caught up in this. Everything here is a snare.” He walks me away. “Me? Hasn’t this place had its hooks in you ever since you first held that key?” They’re just words though, without heat. I’m not thinking about Snorri. I’m thinking about my sister, dead before she was ever born. I’m thinking about the boy and his brother and what I might do to save my own sibling. Less than that, I say to myself. Less than that.
