Bifrost: Chapter XIV

XIV - Mind’s Maze

 

Loki kicked the fresh dwarven skull from the foot of the throne, walking slowly around the base of the stone as Hel bent over the struggling King. His small hands tightened on the armrests of the shaking throne, his hanging feet trembled with fear as the Goddess of Death breathed into his gaped mouth. 

Loki heard another strangled gasp come from the dwarf, causing him to sigh loudly, irritated with her actions. This first affront to the Midgard war was supposed to sway their standing before Ragnarök. So far, he had only watched her toy with dwarves, possessing them as they went into battle with her demons, and feeding off of Kloi’s mind. 

They were losing warriors to the Valkyrie everyday, who seemed to be taking every soul leaving nothing for death’s army. This side was beginning to look like a losing one. “How much longer will you play this game? They are close to the city centre, this you know?” 

Hel took Kloi’s jaw from her palm, closing his mouth as she bent away from his lips that were turning blue. His black braided hair was imprinted with dents where his crown once laid, lacking in lustre. His blue eyes were vacant and blotted with strained red veins. “Until I get what I want.” She patted the top of Kloi’s head as she placed his dull iron crown back on his head. “Lord Verdulke will tire of pretending he’s one of them eventually, and come to me. If not, I’ve already thought of another to take his place.” 

Loki kept his eyes on the sad wooden entrance to their stone castle, no wealth in sight as he looked to the cracked window panes. Blazing encampments laid in the distance, sparing black smoke against the open blue sky. He knew her answer alluded to more than she cared to explain, but they had agreed. He would not aid her directly against his Aztrit. 

The trouble with making deals with enemies was that they couldn’t be trusted to follow through. Although Hel was his child, he would have been foolish to assume that they were true allies.  “He will not submit to you. This much I know about the grandson that you secretly gave me.” He was ten steps further than strong-willed. It didn’t take an intelligent being to know a man like that would rather die than submit. “If you had been kinder, you might have had a chance. But...after you so pleasantly implied you would steal his child, I can’t see him willingly bending the knee.” 

"Then you will make him, or rid us of him as you did Baldur." Hel rolled her eyes as she motioned for the dark cloud billowing in the corner of the stone castle. It leaped across the floor, eager to reattach to the dwarf gaining consciousness from its absence. Just as the colour returned to Kloi’s cheeks, she watched the tainted soul creep back into his parted mouth, causing him to choke on it. The ghostly figure seeped into his gurgling lips. 

“You sound angry father, perhaps you have a soft spot for this babe?” She stepped down toward him. It was typical of him to place too much significance in family. “It must pain you to think of it dead.”

Loki turned to her, anger manifesting itself in his fist as it squeezed her neck. 

He brought Hel close to him, no guilt coating his eyes as he stared into her black iris. She tried to will him to let go, but he was immune. Compared to him, she was a lesser god, he would not allow her to forget. “She is my sister, and I have warned you that if you harm her, or her child, your pathetic life will cease and it will be me wielding the blade.” He threw her on the floor, hearing her gasp as she caught her breath. Her shadow creatures danced restlessly, unsure if they should attack their master’s father. But his power was greater than her own, they would not test him. 

Hel stood once more, straightening the white slip on her body as she clutched her burning throat. He stared down at her, continuing to warn her through his gaze. She lifted her hands in defeat. Her words would not be one with her actions. “I have given you my word father. I will not harm her or the child. It is only my own that I desire.” 

Loki gave her a suspicion filled glare, recognizing the lie. But he would kill her before she got close, this much he was sure of. “I'm beginning to tire from correcting your mistakes. Pull back your forces for now. They’ve had enough. I will send Jormungand to the tidal cove. He will protect the entrance until Surtr arrives.” He knew he couldn’t trust her to keep her promise, he would have to turn to another who would be unlikely to trust him just the same. 

Thor smelled the air as he heard the winds whipping behind him, The rotted and aged bones of death certain on its gusts. Why had he come? Surely to take more from him? He was responsible for Aztrit turning against Asgard, and for Baldur's death just as his mother had said. 

Thor knew it in his soul.

Their father would see no-one, only whispering to his ravens day in and day out. They were weak and exposed, all because of Loki’s continuous treachery. “I will be kind enough to give you until three to leave.” 

Loki looked around Thor’s training arena, several large boulders placed strategically on the yellow sands underneath their feet. His training area behind his home was always where he could be found if too much rested on his tiny brain. The cracked and chipped boulders were prime adversaries for his legendary hammer. 

Mjolnir was quite the weapon, facing it would be a tempting mistake.  

He looked behind him to Thor’s home, the golden curtains blowing into the open air of the balconies, the sun reflecting its rays on the detailed behemoth. He and Thor had always been too different. Thor preferred fame and glory, and Loki preferred elaborate schemes and fortune. Honour was the turning factor for them both. Thor wasn’t clever enough to stray from the honourable way to acquire what he wanted. Loki however, could take what he wanted and feel no regret for the way he would have to plot to receive it. 

Thor had seen the evil in him when they had met those aeons ago, and he hadn’t attempted to hide it. Odin could pose as his father, but Loki knew he would never belong to the Asgardians. 

Until Aztrit. 

Even as a babe she had been drawn to him. The other Gods had tried their hardest to keep her away, but she was curious, with a fire inside of her that dared anyone to tell her no. 

For a time, Aztrit’s caretakers could not get her to sleep no matter where they put her or how much they fed her. Curious to see the problem for himself, when her nursing maids went to sleep Loki visited her, knowing she was restless. 

He had picked her up and rocked her in his arms until her eyelids drifted closed and her tiny fists curled around his fingers. Her eyes were the first pair to look at him with sweet acceptance. He hadn’t been another foreign monster, in her eyes he was her brother.

In secret, he would gift her spoils of war, treachery, and turmoil. Each time she would happily accept, thankful that he had thought of her. Whenever Thor threatened him, she was always the first to jump to his defence. Aztrit never allowed anyone—mortal or god to speak ill of or disrespect him. She always saw the good in his soul that wasn’t there. 

Unfortunately, Aztrit grew and Odin had tried his hardest to squeeze the sweet child out of her, and had successfully crafted another loyal soldier. Or so he had thought. 

He had watched her with Kirk, sensed her happiness, that same sweet girl he knew his sister to be. Loki would do anything to allow her to keep that feeling, just as she had protected him from their brother for all these years. 

Wanting to turn back, to stop attempting to negotiate, Loki wouldn’t dare. Aztrit was far more important than the disdain he and Thor had for each other. They only needed to tolerate each other for as long as it took to save her, and her child. “Hear me, brother. I know you don’t trust me–” 

“One.” Thor counted, not turning to look at him. Now was not the time to put faith in deception’s hands, nor would it ever be. The breeze circled his caped neck, his anger heated his cheeks.

Loki tsked, stopping himself from becoming combative. He was doing it for Aztrit. He would try to remind himself. “If you woul–"

“Two.” Thor held out his hand for his hammer to come to him. It began removing itself from the boulder in which it had collided with, the core of the stone cracking as it wiggled from the deep crater it had made.

Loki tried to speak faster. “I will not ask of you what you are no–” 

“Three!” Thor shouted as his hammer connected with his hand, swinging it as he turned his torso, but as Loki’s hand caught it in front of his face, his fingers turning white from fighting the pressure behind it, Thor pushed harder. Ending him wouldn’t fix the problem, but it would bring him satisfaction. 

“Aztrit needs us, you big oaf! Calm yourself for even a moment so that she may be saved!” He gritted his teeth as Thor continued to push back, unwavering. Thinking only of his sister’s needs, and the baby she had hidden from him too, he continued to press back, causing Thor’s neck to strain as they wrestled. “You’re upset. There is no one who understands this more than I! We must speak about this!”

Thor looked into his eyes, seeing not mischief, but honesty for the first time. Had he ignored that they did have one thing to share? Love for their sister? 

He lowered his arm, slowly letting Loki go as they took in deep breaths. “Speak, and speak quickly.” Thor ordered as he took his hammer, throwing it against the boulder far in the distance once more. Thunder clapped in telling echoes. 

Loki nodded as he heard the crash. He almost hadn’t expected to get this far without arms around his neck. “Soon, the war on Midgard will come to a close. With it, Hel is hoping to have captured Lord Verdulke, and use him to her advantage for Ragnarök.” 

“No one knows when Ragnarök will commence.” 

“When it does—she will be ready. With Kirk and the immortal warriors she’s making, she will have more than enough to succeed.” 

“So kill her.” 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“It is!” Thor nodded furiously as he threw up his hands. “Kill the monster bitch to keep her from our sister. She would kill you without blinking, why not treat her the same?!”

“With or without her, Ragnarök will happen. She has orchestrated this for centuries, with her dead, we will have no one to control the mess she created. We need to focus on stopping her without her notice. That, I will care for. But I need you.” he noticed that he seemed to not be listening. “She knows about Aztrit and the child. I believe that she will kill her and take the child for her own efforts.” 

“A child can do nothing in war.” 

“But it can solidify her place when the war is over. Kirk will never bend to her, she knows this. Destroying Asgard and the connecting worlds will create a void, one that she cannot take control of alone. Kirk and Aztrit’s child will inherit the power necessary for this. She will kill Aztrit for this chance. Is that a risk you would agree to take?” Loki knew that he himself could not. 

He remembered the joy she had in her golden eyes when he took her to Midgard for the first time, her eagerness to speak with everyone she met. It was an innocence she had successfully carried without letting their father crush it in front of her. “Think of her. Fight with me on Midgard.” 

✴

Dahlia entered the candle-lit room, a disturbed bowl of rose water perched on the marbled furniture, wealth flaunting even in the veins of the withered, sunken, burgundy petals. While the sun went down through the covered window, the room bathed in darkness, deepened by the mood of mourning resting in the stale space. 

It was far different than the last time Dahlia had come to visit her. Joy and laughter had touched every corner, a product of their blossoming love. While it had been months ago, she had hoped the air of happiness would never leave them both, no matter how wrong she believed her sister to be. It was something they all deserved. 

Seeing Aztrit’s morphed figure underneath the heavy blankets, Dahlia stifled a groan. Sulking wouldn’t do either of them any good. Movement was much better for the baby. “I thought a party was being thrown?” She moved to Aztrit’s side, taking a seat on the bed. 

Dahlia tucked Aztrit’s hair from her face, examining her closed eyelids as her lashes fluttered against her tear covered cheeks. She could never decide if love hurt more in its absence, or in its presence.

Aztrit could not argue with her. She hadn’t the energy to explain herself any longer. She would not go, because Kirk would not be there. Seeing all of the happy elves with their loved ones would hurt far too much. “I’m not going.” 

“Why not? War is always happening, life goes on.” Dahlia touched her shoulder, reasoning with the commander inside of her.

“Because I feel ill.” Aztrit lied, hoping she would accept it.

“No you don’t. You’re just upset.” She touched Aztrit’s belly on top of the furs, sensing that other than emotionally, she was just fine. “Movement will be good for you, your daughter is feeling cramped. She’ll be here soon.” 

Aztrit didn’t want to be reminded. Kirk would miss every moment of it. She felt it in her chest. She turned on her back and moved the covers away. She watched Dahlia’s hands continue to rub her brown belly, her white hands moving slowly as she took in her child’s essence. She breathed in, releasing slowly as they sat together. “How are our sisters?” 

Dahlia made a small noise in dismissal, “Bored. Growing curious everyday they have not seen you. It’s getting harder to explain to them why they have only heard your voice as of late. Apparently, I’m an incompetent second.” Rightfully, they were questioning every move they made. Patrols were non-stop, unrest frequent in Midgard as the Orofarne raided villages and towns all over Midgard. Kirk was doing his best fighting back, and he was winning. But the death count was staggering.

“That’s not true. There is no one I trust to lead them more than you. What of Tihala? Is she alright?” Aztrit hated to say so, but she regretted how quickly she may have lashed out at her. It was almost written into her being to be so naturally treacherous when it came to loyalty and their destabilised family. Odin would always come first, she could not fault her for her actions. She was still her niece.

“What of her?” Dahlia questioned. “She’s done exactly as she’s been told. Locked away in the hall where Craitol can keep an eye on her. After your threats she won’t dare let her out of her sight.” 

Aztrit sat up, sure that what she said was true. She had meant every word. Her immediate family mattered most. “And...my father?”  

  Dahlia wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. But she would give her the truth she asked for. “He has been rejoicing with the amount of warriors he has received. But we hardly see him anymore. He only rarely takes counsel with your brother. No one else, except for his ravens. He’s been talking to them...whispering to himself. We all think he’s gone mad with you gone.”

Aztrit hoped it wasn’t true. It all sounded too logical. You didn’t pay with wealth to drink from the fountain, you paid in what mattered. Now paranoia, and angst had eaten her father to a shell of what he once was. She wished she had seen that sooner. Thinking back on it she could recognize the signs that he was different, but she hadn’t wanted to believe. “The Well’s waters always take their fee.” 

Dahlia stopped massaging her, not knowing what she meant. “Are you alright?” 

Aztrit nodded slowly. “When you go back, can you see what you can find on Freyja’s final days? I think someone has been speaking to her.” 

She shook her head. Freyja had been dead for centuries. “That’s impossible. Who could be speaking with her?”

Aztrit swung her legs off of the bed, her back beginning to ache. “The King’s son is a Nornorë. He told me that she was listening to my prayers, and that someone was coming.” 

Dahlia raised an ebony eyebrow at her. “And you trust the words of this child?” 

“He could see me in my Valkyrie form, he’s told me things no one could have known. If she is alive, I have to speak to her. She knows my father better than anyone else. She could know how to save him.” 

Dahlia opened her mouth to ask what he had to be saved from, only to be disturbed by knocking. She kept her eyes on Angeana, shifting naturally to her human form. Angeana looked between the two, sensing she had disturbed intimate conversation. “I am sorry Aztrit. I didn’t know you had guests.” Angeana folded her hands over her lap, looking at Dahlia to be introduced. 

“Don’t be sorry. Dahlia, this is Angeana, Queen of Vertan. Angeana, this is Dahlia, my closest friend. She’s a maternal spirit from our home and my second in command.” She watched the two shake hands softly, wary of each other at first. “Angeana has been helping me while Kirk is gone.” She gave Dahlia a look, telling her silently that the Queen was a good woman to be friends with. 

Dahlia took the message. “If you have been kind to my sister, I am grateful for you. You are a mother...of four...boys. Correct?” she gathered the information from her warm palm, her misted blue eyes looked to Aztrit in surprise.

“Did Aztrit tell you?” Angeana said in shock. 

“No. It’s one of my powers. I can feel a mother’s love from you, and your boys in your heart. Even the one that is not your own.” A person’s heart always spoke to her first, and Angeana’s soared for her children. It took a special woman to take another woman’s child to her breast as her own. Aztrit was keeping good company. She let her hand go. “Can I make a suggestion?” 

Angeana let out a small laugh. “Of course.”

She could tell what the Queen truly desired. “If it’s a daughter you want, you are abundantly fertile for one tonight.” 

“Dahlia!” Aztrit shouted in embarrassment. Angeana’s china cheeks reddened with blush. “Forgive her Your Grace, her tongue tastes of feet.”

Angeana shooed the embarrassment away, sharing a knowing glance with Dahlia. She had been dreaming of having a daughter. She would not turn down the advice a maternal spirit could give. “You bring me joy. Please, say you will come with Aztrit to the ball tonight?” she motioned to the door, one of her lady’s brought in Aztrit’s dress, settling it on the bed by her feet.  

Dahlia stood, picking up the red tulle dress with hand sewn flowers printed into the puffed skirt, and the draped sleeves. Flowers of orange and blue, yellow and green, purple and white were placed along the hips and the bust of the calf length gown. “You must wear this...or I’ll die.” she didn’t look up at either of them, too entranced by the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. 

Aztrit looked at it longingly. It was more beautiful as a finished product than she had imagined it would be. But it didn’t matter. Kirk would not be here to see it. “Angeana, you did marvellously, but I cannot go.” She cut her eyes at Dahlia as she snorted. 

Dahlia looked up at her, angered by her persistent refusal. “You—are—going, and you will wear it.” She wouldn’t allow her to waste away by herself. 

Angeana sensed no friendliness as the Valkyries stared each other down. Interacting with the Gods and Goddesses, it was hard to believe that they weren’t mortal, they all acted just the same. “It’s alright. It’ll be here for you if you change your mind.” she gave her a smile, and left them to continue bickering. She swore whenever Aztrit got upset she could see flames dancing in her eyes. It was no longer her argument to have. 

Dahlia dropped her aggression as Angeana closed the door. She saw tears spring in Aztrit’s eyes. “I know you’re hurting, but you must go. Why didn’t you go to him if you miss him so much?”

She cleared the tears from her eyes. “Because he hasn’t called for me. He never tells me exactly where he is in his letters because he doesn’t want me there.” 

Dahlia knew they could never appear in a place they hadn’t been before, or someone had told them about. She knew it must have been frustrating having the means to go, even for a moment, and being unable to. She knew exactly where the Verdulke encampment was in Hyatse, but for her safety, she would agree with Kirk’s wishes and not tell her. “He just wants you to be safe, and you are. You’re due anyday, and you have a wonderful party to go to. Your daughter is healthy and strong, there’s so much to be thankful for.” 

Aztrit stood, she was right. She would be thankful for all those who were helping them both in their time of need. She walked closer to Dahlia, removing Kirk’s tunic above her head. She would miss its smell the whole night she was away from it. Dahlia lowered the dress over her head, her naked body moved into it smoothly as they worked together to put it on. “There’s something I must ask you, before I forget.” 

Dahlia pulled the front over her brown breasts. “Of course, what is it?” The colour was so beautiful on her glowing skin.

Aztrit grew nervous, but she knew the offer would only excite her. “I was hoping you could be her Godmother. I want her to be with you—Odin forbid–if something happens to Kirk and I.” She felt Dahlia’s hand slow on her hips, the dress fell to its length, fitting comfortably over her belly. She turned as she heard sniffing over her shoulder.

Dahlia’s red teary eyes caused leaks to form in her own again. Aztrit hugged her close, holding her head as she rested it in her neck. “I trust you to care for her the way you care for me. You are my sister, it could only be you.” 

Dahlia’s heart felt that it would burst in her chest. 

She gently hugged her in return, wanting to squeeze her until she couldn’t breathe. She hoped it would never come to it, but if it did, she would not let her down. “I love you more than anything, or anyone. No matter where you go, always take my love with you. I would be broken if you ever forgot it.” Dahlia released her, “Your babe is tired. Rest for just a moment while I fetch you fresh water. I’ll wake you when I return.” 

Aztrit nodded in gratitude. 

The door clicked behind Dahlia. She stood in the blackened hallway where only a torch every twenty paces flickered orange. She looked to both empty ends, and took caution before she stepped towards the door. Somewhere, she could feel a presence watching. 

Suddenly thinking better than to leave Aztrit alone, Dahlia turned back to the door. Her fingertips grazed the handle, only to be stopped by a scent wavering underneath her nose. Lavender fear wafted past her bulging eyes, corrupting her loosening senses. 

She fought the urge to sleep and clawed at the hands surrounding her throat, but only smoke drifted between her digits. She turned her head to see a hooded figure with no face, only billowing smoke underneath its cloak. Even without lips, she could see it speaking to her. It’s voice rattling in her clogged ears. “Show her...show her...show her…” 

Dahlia shook her head, she would not. “Show…” Its claws sunk into the flesh of her neck as red eyes blinked separately, opening with each word. “Her…” 

When was the last time Aztrit felt so much...light? 

The hall doors parted, giving way to the roaring sea of elves and humans alike in high spirits. The lanterns suspended in the air swung with the force of the jovial breath of each participant, the stained glass windows vibrated with laughter, the tables thumped along the floor from the excited steps surrounding them. 

So much happiness seemed odd in such a timely war. But she would not question the need for a celebration such as this when the people needed it the most. 

Aztrit saw Angeana standing above them all. A beacon of hope to guide her to the high table where leadership sat. She waved to her, needing her to rescue her from the throngs of people around her. 

As Aztrit stepped up beside her, she heard the horns beginning to play, the elves blowing into the long golden looped instruments at every entrance, beckoning guests to take their place at the tables throughout the hall. 

“You nearly missed it.” Angeana whispered to her, her eyes glued to the entrance as she waited for her husband. 

“You only want me up here so that your figure can look smaller next to mine.” Aztrit joked with her as she shot her a smile. “I am sorry again for my sister’s behaviour. She does have trouble learning boundaries.” 

Angeana looked over the crowd for the beautiful Valkyrie with the strong arms. She was spot on about what both she and Lefelgd had been dreaming of—a little girl to make their family whole. “Please, do not apologise. How often is it that I get to hear advice from a spirit? Would she prefer to sit here with us?” 

She shook her head. “It would be best if she tried to blend in.” She looked with her, seeing Dahlia standing closer to the corner by herself. “Just there.” She said as she signalled where. 

Angeana made a small noise in approval. 

The horns blasted again, and the crowd parted in unison. “Aztrit...” Angeana gasped under her breath, her lungs filled with nervous energy. 

Aztrit felt her smile and her laughter fall.  

In came the ranks led by a battle worn elvish king. Seeing Lefelgd without Kirk by his side made her heart clench. She knew that she had been warned that he would not be coming home, but she had held out the smallest amount of hope that it had been untrue.  

How long she stood frozen in heartbreak, she didn’t know. But when she rejoined her surroundings, Lefelgd was kissing Angeana deeply. 

Her happy sobs taunted Aztrit. 

Disheartened, Aztrit stepped back, slowly descending the low steps. She led herself through the elves as they showed affection, pairing for dancing. Their happiness caused her stomach to turn, feeling sick as she watched them spin in circles. 

Just as quickly as the doors had welcomed her with promises of yellow rays, blue hues waved to her in parting. 

With the entry to the hall closed behind her, the cold night air tightened her lungs. 

Aztrit looked up to the stars. Why were they so far away? She had once thought that if she reached above her, she could pluck the white jewels from the sky, and wish on them before she released them back to their constellations. 

Another idiotic dream.

She sat by the fountain, listening to the water pouring from the spouts as she felt the tears freezing on her face, looking at the reflection of the moon in the ripples of the moving water. She held herself, regretting having let Dahlia convince her to still attend. “It's a good night for dancing Valkyrie, but not for tears.” 

She turned in fear as her heart leapt out of her chest, disbelief clutching it in her chest. “Kirk?” she asked through a sob as she looked up into his face, a familiar scar cutting through his brow all the way to his upper lip. She sat frozen, unable to breathe as he began to smile. 

Kirk moved her hair from her teary eyes, lifting her chin to him. "Look at you...what cruel man has left you this way?" 

“One who’s dead if he ever leaves me again.” Silver eyes had never sung so sweetly to her. She stood to embrace him, only to find her hand passing straight through him. She reached out to touch the chest that should have been hard underneath her palm, then upwards to caress the lips that should have curved softly underneath her fingertips. “Why can’t I touch you?” 

His smile faded. His silver eyes became a hardened grey as he walked backwards into the shadows. 

Confusion overtook her as the ground quaked beneath her. Walls began to appear, the marble courtyard underneath her feet turned to aged, jagged stone. "Kirk!” she called as she fell to her knees. She held her belly as she lost her breath once more. 

Aztrit heard what sounded like dungeon doors shutting and locking behind her, but the room around her hardly looked like a jail cell. It was a throne room clear as day, with dwarven skeletons lining the walls. 

Moonlight poured over the ruins of the room, with paintings of their ancestors touching every corner of the walls. She could hear waves lapping the shore in the distance. Candle holders sat with only wax puddles long dried for lack of flame. She sat in the midst of it all, on the tattered carpet leading to the steel throne. In it, a shadow sat slumped with a crown tilted on its head.  

Aztrit stood, her heart beating erratically as she began to look for a way out. The doors, the windows, none of it would budge. She held out her palm to the wooden door, but nothing would conjure. She was trapped. 

She walked back to the window, looking down on the endless expanse of green southern trees. The mountains far in the distance were beginning to hide the moon behind them. “Dreams are so fickle...aren’t they?” 

She needed not turn around to know who’s claw rested on her shoulder. Death had whispering lips. “Minds are not playthings.” 

Hel smirked. “It’s foolish for you to think so. Even more devastating for my son to believe it too. Power is an awful, awful thing to squander. This, your father and I both agree on.”

Aztrit swatted her hand away, “You know nothing of my father.” 

“Hmm, not so. Your father and I have come to know each other fairly intimately since I gifted him his ravens.” 

Aztrit knew better than to turn and face her, but her anger was rising. “What have you done to them?” 

Hel took a loose strand from Aztrit’s head and tucked it behind her ear. “Such a pretty thing...just like your mother.” 

“What are you—” She turned to meet Hel’s eyes, only to fall victim to her. 

Pain and fear were all she could see, flames eating at browned flesh, children cowering in their corners while demons laid waste to their families in front of them. Blood spatter covered the huts in the warm air, filled with screams. 

She saw her father standing over them all, with a woman cradled in his arms. A woman who looked just like her. His pained bellows shook the heavens, the sky turned black above him. “Do you see now, why your father put me there?”  

Hel released Aztrit, and watched her stumble backwards to the window. “A harmless massacre on the wrong village. A village I didn’t know was home to Odin's human whore. I have had aeons to think about that night, and how I would repay him for the darkness that he cast me in. Little did he know that I would make that darkness my own, and thrive in it.” 

Hatred rang true through every word she spoke. But Aztrit would not let this new truth shake what she believed. “What have you done to him?” 

Hel’s laugh froze the air. “Nothing. That’s the beauty of it. He was so torn by your pathetic mother’s death that he needed no convincing from me to drink from the Well of Knowledge. Or...what he thought was the Well of Knowledge. All he needed was guidance to find it. It’s a beautiful thing, to play fate. He takes my freedom, I took his love, his daughter, and his mind. Vengeance repaid three-fold.” 

“You put your demons in his ravens?”

Hel nodded. “The perfect tools to lead him to the Well of Mourning. All the same perks the Well of Knowledge gives, but yields a greater reward for the fates. One's mind.” She touched Aztrit's shoulder and turned her back to the window. “But, I came with a gift. Just for you.” 

Aztrit shook her head, but was unable to get away. “Forgive me if I don't say thank you.” 

“Forgiven.” Hel snarled before she elongated a pale bony finger to the window pane. “Kirk’s encampment is just there.” She paused, allowing her to recognize the smoke from the campsite fire between the trees. “As you can see, they are close to Hyatse's Heart. I need you to speak with him, warn him against coming here.” 

“Why would I do that?” It was undoubtedly a trap. 

“Because if not, I will make him a prisoner here, just as I have you. Except, I will make his suffering long lasting. He will never die, but he will wish for death. And he will believe it was you who chose to inflict it upon him.” She saw Aztrit’s lip quiver. “I know how much you've missed him...if there was even a chance for you to save your love, wouldn’t you take it?” She stroked Aztrit’s hair lovingly and curled her black lip by her ear, “Think on it my sweet.”

 

To be continued...