Astrid is a Völva — a Norse seer, one of those rare and powerful women who can walk the threads of time. The problem is, the threads walked her right off a cliff. Too many branching timelines, too many possible futures — Astrid has lost her grip on the present entirely.
She's a fixture in Millhaven's homeless community, showing up at the Metro Diner each morning like clockwork, shouting prophecies about Valhalla that sound like gibberish to everyone around her. She refuses to go near any mental health facility, convinced the government will kidnap her and use her for her visions.
She's gaunt and sun-weathered, with blonde hair hanging in tangled knots around her face and bony fingers with chipped nail polish. Her skin is covered in crude, self-made tattoos — jagged runes and chaotic symbols that seem to shift and writhe in the light. Dominating them all is a large spiral-shaped seashell above her sternum.
Despite the Florida summer heat, she bundles herself in multiple ragged jackets, rocking back and forth as she screams at passersby with dark, crazed eyes. Her magic radiates in chaotic waves that scrape against Gideon's senses — oracle magic gone wrong, a maelstrom of time flowing backward and forward at once, sharp and discordant and fragile.
But beneath the madness, there are moments of eerie clarity. When she locks eyes with Gideon and tells him he's "in for quite the surprise, mama's boy," it's hard to dismiss her as entirely lost.
