“Do not lie to me, Ljósálfr,” the figure said, its voice hollow and melancholy. “I know that the mortal was reacting to my appearance.” As the figure spoke, it stood and approached them, pausing a foot from where they stood, Gwidon still with his hand covering Eda's mouth. Eda felt herself shudder with revulsion. Before her stood a woman, half flesh-covered and beautiful, half blackened corpse. Hel the Half Born. She swallowed her disgust and pushed Gwidon's hand away, keeping her eyes on the living half of Hel.

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