And though Anna knew what would happen next, she still wasn’t prepared for when Elsa’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal glowing yellow eyes.
Anna’s stomach heaved at the sight of the wolf’s eyes in her sister’s familiar face. Her stride slowed. “Elsa?” she called out hesitantly.
Elsa opened her mouth…and screamed.
And then she raised her hands, blasting Arendelle with her powers, her usually white snow and white ice now replaced by black snow and black ice.
No, not black snow or black ice. Black sand.
As Elsa continued to scream, the sound swept through Anna, hollowing her out like the wolf’s howl had, until there was nothing left except for Elsa’s scream within her, reverberating against her ribcage, echoing again and again in her complete emptiness. In her utter aloneness.
Revolute had shattered, and Elsa’s eyes were yellow.
“Elsa,” Anna sobbed, not knowing what do. “Elsa…Elsa…Elsa!”
But the figure who had been her sister did not even turn to face her.
With great heaving gasps, Anna gathered the shards of the sword into her cloak pocket—a futile hope. Because Revolute, the famed sword of myth, had not been enough to defeat a beast of myth. The myth was no longer a myth. It had not saved her sister. And the sound of Elsa’s scream—or was it the wolf’s howl?—pulled her into the black dots gathering at the edge of her vision. Anna didn’t know which was which, but the nightmares stormed in and dragged her down.
“Elsa,” she managed to croak out one last time. No longer knowing what was real and what was a nightmare, or if they were now truly one and the same, Anna saw Elsa at last turn to her.
Elsa raised her hands, and black sand erupted from her palms toward Anna.
Darkness swirled around Anna, and then, at last, there was nothing at all.
ANNA WOKE TO HER MOTHER singing a lullaby.
She knew it was just a dream, and so she kept her eyes shut, letting herself drift in the familiar and comforting melody. Though she couldn’t make out the lyrics, she had a sense of the story behind it. A story from long ago, in that time before time, when the world was sprightly green and the rivers bubbled with enchantment. That time when the sun would step down from the sky and walk along the earth, just to feel the grass tickle her feet and to discuss philosophy with the wind. It was an olden song, a song of strength and meekness, revenge and love. The sound was sweet, but it was not real. Anna knew that.
Mother was gone. Father, too. And now Elsa…
Yellow eyes and a haunted kingdom. Tears dripped from beneath her eyelashes, but Anna still didn’t open them. She wanted to stay suspended in the dark, cocooned away until someone had cleaned up her mess.
Something cold patted her cheek. “Anna, quit joking around. Wake up.”
This voice was familiar, too.
Anna opened her eyes to find herself nose to carrot with Olaf.
“You’re leaking,” he informed her, referring to the tears she was shedding.
“Olaf, what are you doing here?” Anna swiped at her eyes and looked away from Olaf’s nose to see branchless trees swaying above her. No, not trees—masts. Three tall ones, each strung with the ropes and nets of a working ship and boasting wide billowing sails.
Above the slap of the waves, Anna could hear singing—but it wasn’t her mother, it was Tuva the blacksmith, who stared out at the dark night over the royal ship’s rail, her lilting voice filling the salt-sprayed air.
“Anna’s awake!” Olaf shouted.
“How did you get here?” Anna asked Olaf. “How did I get here?” She looked around and beside her, and saw Sven wrapped in a large blanket, still fast asleep, though his legs twitched and sweat sheened his almost now completely white coat. Only a little patch of brown fur remained on his flaring nose.
“Hoo-hoo!” Oaken said, stomping into view, his cheeks a bit redder than usual from the cold sea air. “We watched everything from the harbor! When Scary Elsa vanished inside the castle, we crept ashore and carried you back. We thought both you and Sven would rest better next to one another.”
“I thought you had already sailed away!” Anna said, perplexed. She also wondered why she hadn’t fallen under the nightmare sleep. She studied her hands, not sure what she expected to see.
“We were going to,” Tuva called from the ship’s stern, her hands on the helm. In the yellow lantern light, the blacksmith looked ragged and her curly hair had been tugged into a cloud of frizz by the wind. Her brown eyes, however, remained warm as she looked at Anna. “But then we had a change of heart. And a good thing, too—or else we wouldn’t have been able to pick up SoYun.”
“Since I live on the outskirts of the village,” SoYun said softly as she appeared from behind the post, a coil of thick rope in her arms, “the wolf ran straight by—and at that very moment, the rest of my herd fell asleep. I realized I had to go seek a solution myself. So I rowed out onto the sea, hoping to find someone awake on the water, and that’s how they”—she gestured to Tuva and Oaken—“found me.”
“I’m so glad,” Anna said, and she was pleased to note that while SoYun’s long black braid wasn’t yet in its usual tidiness, she looked less terrified than when she’d come upon Anna and Elsa in the woods. In fact, SoYun looked determined.
“But,” Anna said, looking back at Tuva, “what kind of change convinced you to return?”
“You,” Tuva said simply.
Anna blinked. “What do you mean?”
Tuva turned the wheel, and the sails above rippled in the night breeze. “I mean,” she said, “that if a young woman like you could stick around, even though all was falling apart, and you don’t have powers of snow and ice, and I doubt you can lift a blacksmith’s hammer above your head for even a minute—then why couldn’t we? After all, Arendelle is just as much our home as it is yours.
“We’d only sailed out a little ways when we realized that we needed to return. And so, we agreed to turn around in case you were still out there. And you were. So we scooped you up just in time and carried you to the ship, and now we’ve set sail again.”
“We’re keeping an eye on the castle,” SoYun added. “Elsa…she’s…”
“Still in there,” Tuva finished darkly.
“Thank you. H-how long have I been asleep?” Anna said. Her thoughts reeled with the vision of Elsa falling victim to the Nattmara.
“Only a few hours!” Olaf called from the prow. “Which is actually a short amount of time when you take in the eons of our galaxy.”
Anna’s heart sped up. It was still the same night. “And when’s sunrise?”
“In just an hour,” Oaken said.
An hour. Arendelle had a single hour before this terror became permanent. Uneasy, Anna rose to her feet and headed to the railing. She stared down at the black waters of the Arenfjord. They slapped relentlessly against the ship’s hull, giving rhythm to the terrible thoughts that swarmed through Anna’s mind: Elsa, failure, Elsa. A tear coursed down her cheek. Anna’s greatest fear wasn’t a wolf. It never had been.
It had been losing her sister.
Olaf took Anna’s hand in his. “You’re melting,” he said. “I wish I could share my permafrost with you.”
Anna smiled as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’m okay, Olaf.” She paused. “Actually,” she admitted, “I’m not okay. All along I wanted to go on the grand tour with Elsa on this very ship, but now…It was supposed to be a journey that Elsa and I did together.”
And though Anna didn’t say it, she thought: Just like taking care of the castle is something we’re supposed to do together, too. But even after the trip to the Huldrefólk, Elsa still hadn’t trusted her to get rid of the Nattmara, and now, their one and only chance of defeating the nightmare—Revolute—lay in tiny jagged pieces in her cloak pocket.
Sven suddenly bellowed, and Anna looked just in time to see him thrash wildly, his legs moving as though he were running for his life, even as he slumbered.
“I ruined it all,” she said, continuing to pet Sven gently on the head. “I thought I finally had the answer. But”—she drew a long, shuddering breath—“I thought wrong. And Elsa—she was right not to trust me to come along on her grand tour, or to defeat the Nattmara, or to do anything at all.”
“Ah-hem,” came a familiar throat-clearing. She turned to see Wael climbing up out of the ship’s hull.
Quickly, she looked away and kept her head bent toward the water, using her hair as a curtain. She didn’t think she could stomach the nosy journalist’s judgment. She barely felt like she could handle anything at all.
“Ah-hem.” The throat clearing became more insistent. “I couldn’t help overhearing, but, well…have you been belowdecks yet? To Elsa’s study?”
Anna shook her head. She’d been to the royal ship to help unload rations, but she had made it a point to avoid Elsa’s cabin, unwilling to see it piled high with the luggage that would accompany Elsa far from home.
“Then I suggest you check it out.”
“I don’t know,” Anna said, thinking of the wild hair that now fanned around Elsa’s face and the yellow eyes of the Nattmara set into her sockets. That image would haunt her forever, she was certain of it. “It—it would hurt too much to see right now,” Anna said.
Olaf slid his hand into hers. “Sometimes, you walk into a cave thinking you’ll find wolves inside, but they turn out to be puppies.”
With a heavy sigh, Anna shuffled after Olaf, following him and Wael downstairs to Elsa’s study. As she walked, she kept sneaking glances at Wael. She was surprised that he’d been willing to come back and help her.
Wael caught one of her glances and exhaled. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said as he stepped onto a groaning stair.
“You do?” Anna said, her cheeks warming slightly.
Wael nodded. “You think that because I ask you and your sister hard questions about the kingdom, that I must not like you or Arendelle very much.” He opened the door to Elsa’s floating quarters and paused a moment to look at Anna. “But the truth is, I ask hard questions because I love Arendelle so much, and because I believe in you and Elsa. You know, asking questions is often the first step to accomplishing something.”
And Anna was surprised to realize that yes, she exactly knew. She smiled at Wael and said, “Thank you so much for your questions, and for coming back to help us.” And she meant it with the whole of her being.
Wael returned the smile and stepped back so that she could enter.
Anna gasped. Everywhere, there were sunflowers. Painted sunflowers danced across wooden beams and were carved into the handles of the cupboards. A plush sunflower rug, cheery yellow and spring green, lay at the base of the stairs.
Sunflowers weren’t Elsa’s favorite flowers. They were Anna’s. Elsa must have asked that the entire study be decorated to remind her of her sister. To remind her of home. And in the center of the room hung a newly commissioned portrait of two little girls, one with white-blond hair and the other chestnut brown, skating across a frozen pond. The entire room felt like a hug.
Wael went to the desk and pulled out a page from the stacks that had already accumulated in anticipation of Elsa’s grand tour. “This is the one that I thought you might like to see,” Wael said, handing it to her before slipping out, leaving Anna alone with Olaf.
Anna peered down at the paper, then did a double take. It was a proclamation written in Elsa’s elegant handwriting:
I, Elsa, Queen of Arendelle, do hereby proclaim my sister, Anna of Arendelle, Keeper of the Kingdom while I sail on the grand tour. She is kind, thoughtful, and loves Arendelle with the whole of her heart. There is none better than her to watch over the kingdom while I am away.
At last, Anna had an answer. The reason Elsa had not invited her on the grand tour—it wasn’t because Elsa thought Anna was incompetent. It was because she knew Anna was helpful, and she needed Anna at home to keep an eye on things. Of course Elsa didn’t want Anna leaving Arendelle. Arendelle needed Anna just as much as Anna needed it.
“Now that’s true love!” said Olaf, who had angled his head to read it.
“It is,” said Anna with a sad smile. All this time, Anna had thought that Elsa believed she was useless, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all. Maybe the only person who hadn’t believed that Anna was helpful…was Anna herself.
She remembered the ice bubble that Elsa had enclosed her in. She’d thought it had been Elsa doing one more protective big sister act, but what if it was meant to be more than that? What if she wasn’t trying to be protective of Anna, but she was instead arming Anna, forcing her to wait and watch, because she trusted her to figure out the solution if the worst should happen?
“Olaf,” Anna said, “would you mind getting Tuva down here, please? We don’t have much time.”
Half an hour later, though, Anna’s fragile hope had once again unraveled. She’d laid out the collected pieces of Revolute across Elsa’s desk to see if Tuva could piece them together, but the blacksmith shook her head. “The pieces are too small, and the metal—I’ve never seen anything like it before. Maybe I could do it if Ada”—her breath caught on her wife’s name—“were around and I had access to our forge, but there’s no way it can be fixed in time, and definitely not on this ship without the proper tools.”
“Why would you fix it?” Wael called from the doorway. “The sword didn’t work the first time—what makes you think it would work this time?”
“Because,” Anna said, keeping her eye on the porthole. Was the night sky beginning to brighten? “You can only defeat a myth with a thing of myth, and Revolute is definitely a thing of myth. Besides”—she turned her head to look at the map of Arendelle pinned to the wall. It reminded her of the map she had uncovered in the secret room, the one where her mother had written one of their father’s many sayings—“my father used to say the past has a way of returning.”
“And what goes around comes around again, like a sneeze in the wind,” Olaf added. He sat at the desk, examining the pieces of the shattered sword. “Maybe you should look at Revolute and Aren’s past.”
Anna sighed. “I would, but I don’t exactly have a copy of the Saga of Aren on me at the moment, and Elsa’s not here to declaim.”
“Ah-hem,” Wael coughed. “Elsa is not the only one who studied the classics.”
“Apologies, Wael,” Anna said. “Please perform, but quickly.” Unease filled her, but she tamped it down. “We’re running out of time.”
“‘Revolving moon and spinning sun, forged a crescent blade…’” Wael began, and Anna half listened as she tried to skim the other documents that might be helpful.
“Hey, Anna,” Olaf said, “don’t you think it’s funny how you can find love in the most curious places?”
Anna tried not to sigh. She loved when Olaf discussed philosophy—usually—but now, mere minutes before sunrise, was not the time. “Yeah, sure I do. Why are you asking?”
“Because,” Olaf said, “it’s sitting here on the desk.”
Anna looked over, trying to see what he was talking about. She had not realized that Olaf had been rearranging the broken pieces of Revolute, specifically the top part of the blade that had held the inscription of the sword’s name, which now spelled out:
L-O-V-E R-E-T-U
“‘The sea rushed in as hidden power flowed from the gleaming sword,’” Wael continued to proclaim—and Anna’s heart skipped a beat.
A hidden power.
Anna’s heart began beating again, but twice as fast, as thoughts tumbled through her mind and she took in the other letters. A grin spread across her face.
“Oaken!” she yelled up to the deck. “Turn this ship around again! We have a kingdom to save.”
ANNA KNEW
WHERE TO FIND HER SISTER.
The nearer the night drew to sunrise, the more foreign Anna’s home had seemed to become. Knobby branches twisted every which way, as if a forest of shadows had taken root in the land. And overhead, a great sandstorm spun, its center positioned directly over Arendelle Castle. Its great winds raised up high waves, and Anna and the rest of the crew covered their noses and mouths with the silk scarves that were originally meant to be gifts to the court of Corona, but now acted as shields so that they could breathe without inhaling sand as the royal ship glided closer.
Oaken steered the ship while Tuva barked commands at Wael, and SoYun and Anna helped with a complicated system of ropes and pulleys. Wael looked a little green around the gills, and Anna was grateful that she herself had a strong stomach.
But it was Olaf, a snowman who was used to falling apart and rolling in several directions at once, who was the biggest help. He made sure that the items on deck didn’t slam into anybody and that the still-sleeping Sven stayed safely out of harm’s way.
“Sharp turn!” Oaken warned, and the next second, he’d turned the royal ship to be parallel to the castle gates. But there was still a sizable distance between the ship’s deck and land.
“This is as close as we can get without smashing the ship!” Oaken called.
Anna stared down at the choppy gray water. Black sand sullied its usually white foam. She’d have to jump! But then she saw SoYun’s rope. Remembering how she’d escaped the Nattmara from Sorenson’s tower, she called to SoYun to throw the rope and latch it securely to a streetlamp.
When it was done, Anna clambered up onto the top rail. “Wish me luck!” She took the free end of the rope from SoYun—and jumped! Three long seconds passed as she soared into the air and over the water, and then, let go. With a thump, she landed on the castle grounds.
Anna winced, not because of the pain, but because she should have made a quieter entrance. Two pairs of glowing yellow eyes suddenly appeared at the front entrance to Arendelle Castle: Kai and Gerda. And their hair, too, had turned snow-white.
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