Bifrost: Chapter XVI - End

XVI - Gift of Night

 

Wings beating faintly fell on Aztrit’s ears. 

The gentle gusts of wind flurried around her as she clung to Odin—lifeless in rest—desperate to believe that her fears were not true. Her father wasn’t—couldn’t be dead. Kirk couldn’t have been the one to plunge the sword into his heart. 

In the moment, the purpose for the strike mattered little. Fate had taken its course and used Kirk as its vessel.

Grief over compassed the joy brought on by her and her child being saved. Odin had been on a warpath, and even before his corruption at the well, she knew that meant he would not rest until he had completed what he had determined to do. Even if it meant harming his beloved child, and the child she was soon to welcome.

Warm cream fingers slid over her left shoulder above Odin’s closed eyes. “Sister,” Whispered Loki as he knelt by her side. “This place is not safe for you.” he felt her shaking underneath his palm. Her anxious quaking only continued as she stayed silent.

Loki looked at Odin. Relief was all he could gather.

Peace was not a familiar friend to Odin in life, or in the death on his face. He still looked angry and contorted, as if dissatisfaction followed him to the next plane of existence. 

Loki touched his singed golden hair recalling only once that he had truly made him feel as if he was his son. It had been after their victory against the old gods, when Loki had been critical in misleading their enemies into believing that he was trustworthy and would broker peace between the old gods and the new. Instead—he had utilised the weaknesses of the old Vanir Gods to give the new Aesir Gods the upperhand. 

Still he could remember their faces as the Aesir had ravaged and devastated their lands and their people. It was a deception that he could hardly swallow, all for the acknowledgment of the Allfather that had stolen him from his own home. 

Had it been worth it? Being called his son for the very first time for the simple price of decimating a race? It had, and undoubtedly he would do it again. 

Loki looked above them where the birds had parted but were still cautiously watching them. Unlike the others, he could see Hel’s shadows possessing them. They had been for quite some time. Hel’s strike had begun effortlessly from within Odin’s own mind, and controlling his thoughts, his environment, and his allies had been faultless. 

Without Loki’s help, Hel could not have flourished. And it was his hope that Aztrit would never discover the role he played in her demise. 

With a nod, Loki dismissed the ravens. They were Hel’s to keep now.

Aztrit’s gasp of pain cut through the silence as the ravens disappeared in the distance. Loki gripped her as she bent further over their father. “Aztrit? What is it?” He felt her hand grip the front of his tunic as she continued to gasp for air. 

Aztrit could only describe it as wet lasting pain between her legs and deep in her belly. She felt the bottom of her clothes becoming drenched. “She’s coming.” She scraped out through her teeth. Her baby was coming and had made it very clear that there was no more time to waste. 

She tried to keep herself from panic as the pain subsided. 

Loki’s attempt at calming his own panic was not as successful. “Now? Right now?” 

“Now!” Aztrit screamed as another wave came faster. She steadied her breathing. “I need Dahlia. She’ll know what to do.” 

Loki shook his head. 

Her Valkyrie friend would be of no use to her. If she wasn’t still under the spell Hel had cast on her, she would surely be feeling the effects of Odin’s banishment. “Aztrit...the Valkyrie…” He held her hair as she tried to ignore her pain. “They refused to ride with him to kill you, so Odin stripped them all of their powers and banished them here to Earth. They don’t have long until their souls become too much for their physical forms.” 

Aztrit shook her head. It could not be true. 

Valkyrie were not meant to be outside of their spiritual realm permanently. Short periods in physical form were safe, but long periods would drive them slowly to madness. Human bodies were not equipped to store them, and as many were spirits or created by the fates, they had never had mortal bodies to begin with. 

If this was now happening to Dahlia, she would not have long before she became rabid. “Please. We must get to her quickly.” Aztrit breathed out. 

“She won’t recognize you if—” Loki argued.

“The longer we waste talking about it the less time we have. Take me to her.” Aztrit said with finality as she placed Odin on the soft grass beneath them. 

Loki helped her stand as she cradled her belly. Aztrit further ignored the pain in her heart as she held out her palm, “For Freyja.” She whispered as blue flames spread from the crushed leaflets beneath Odin, sliding over his skin like protruding vines. 

She watched the flames dance. 

Her father's body began to disappear beneath them, small flickers of light caught and ascended into the sky from the heap. In his flames she could see the trials of his life. His battle with his brothers to be king, his spear lodged deep in his eye for his sight, and the thoughts of her mother that he had held onto. 

Loki watched the flames beside her, but saw nothing but their electricity crackling as his spirit began to separate. Aztrit seemed entranced, as if watching his father one final time to say goodbye. 

Thunder cracked above them as Thor appeared on the other side of their father’s body. Aztrit did not look up at him, only Loki looked to acknowledge what had happened in his brother’s eyes. Lord Verdulke ended him to save Aztrit and their child. Allfather meant to kill them both.

Thor heard Loki's message in his mind. 

Thor knelt by his father's body, his hammer resting on the grass as it supported him from leaning too close to the flames. No matter the crime, he would not forgive the father of Aztrit’s child. But for his sister, Thor could never harbour that same hatred. He would continue their plan, if only to honour her and only her. There would be time to mourn later.  

Aztrit winced and gasped in pain again. “Loki…” 

Loki looked in each direction. She would not make phasing across the country. They would have to find some place closer, and then send Dahlia to her. 

Only a few miles away, he found a spot and prepared to shift there only to be stopped by Thor’s hand, “Not there. The dwarves and Orofarne have only just begun retreating there. She’ll be unprotected.” 

Loki shook his head as Aztrit groaned and clutched his hand tighter, “We don’t have any choice. Find Kirk and meet us there. I’ll retrieve the other Valkyrie after I get Aztrit safely inside.” 

Thor removed his hand. Was this all to Loki's plan? Could he trust them to separate and return together? Or would this benefit only Loki’s own agenda? He could only trust that he was he speaking from a place of love for his sister. 

Thor held Aztrit’s head and kept her golden gaze. “Stay strong little one. I will return.” 

Aztrit touched the hand he had on her and smiled. “This, I do not doubt.” 

His arm slipped from hers slowly as he stepped back. The wind began to sweep around him causing his red hair to swing with the currents. His blue eyes stayed on her as he nodded to her with promise of return, then vanished. 

Loki heard her sniffle as they were alone again. The same thought was likely being shared between them. Either Kirk or Thor would return, it would not be both. “We must go. Are you prepared?”

Aztrit nodded and clung to Loki tight.

Kirk ran blindly against the sea spray as it attempted to slow him down. Thick branches swept low and high as he followed his warpath, rounding the outskirts of the high dwarven stone walls surrounding the tops of the partially underground city.

Clashing rang in his hollowed ears. None if it mattered. 

The men he lost, the Dwarves, Orofarne, and undead that carried on. All would be lost if he did not act. He had no one but himself to ensure there was a future—no matter how bleak—for his daughter, for others to survive in. 

Unaware of the booming thunder in the grey clouds, and the rising waves in the sea, he ran on. But as a gust of wind swept the back of his neck, he turned, anticipating the force of the collison Thor had planned for him. 

Their bodies crashed, sweeping the forest floor as they tumbled and fought for an advantage. 

Hammer met cold, damp, crushed leaves and axe met gnarled, overgrown tree roots as they hacked and swung unsuccessfully at each other. 

As a root curled upwards and forcefully separated their fighting bodies, Thor rose to his feet first and sent Mjolnir hurtling through the thicket and squarely into Kirk's chest.

Kirk gasped for air as he was thrown off of his feet unnaturally far, clearing the forest tree line. Just as he felt recovered, his back met the reinforced stone wall with a bone breaking crack. He pulled in futile attempts at the hammer's hold, hoping to relieve any of the pressure squeezing his insides against the stone. He felt his lungs bursting and air squawking from his lips as Thor approached slowly from the trees. 

His pale red hair flowed with the current of the sea winds and his red eyes burned with untold fury. Kirk was sure he had learned of his father’s death, and would have been disappointed if Thor hadn’t had this reaction. It would have been cowardly to not attempt to face the man that took his family from him.

Thor paced himself approaching him, not having forgotten why he had been sent after the half mortal Lord. Thor studied Kirk on his arrival, trying his best to see what Aztrit had envisioned when she had left her sense and her honour behind. It was true, Kirk was a fine warrior. Thor was sure they could play at this battle for ages until the man in front of him grew old—if he ever would. But his soul, his stench was marred with death as the scar on his face reflected. What power could Aztrit see in the immortal that resided in him? In the immortal that descended from the plague of the Underworld Queen’s heart? 

Thor could hear Kirk's bones continuing to break from the power of the hammer holding him suspended against the wall. Silver eyes held misted red as Thor reached out for the hammer's hilt, and twitched the tip of his fingers gently to send it back into his palm. 

Kirk's deep gulps of pained breathing hid amongst the crashing sea against the rocks beneath them. He could only see Thor’s boots turn toward the sea as he returned the hammer to his waist, and his golden cape taken in the wind behind him. 

“My sister is labouring from the birth of your child. She has sent me to bring you.” Thor looked down at the weak man at his feet and turned away. “Come.” 

Kirk steadied his breathing. This news was no shock to him. The connection he still shared with Aztrit had told him of the pain she was in. As the pain mixed with a calm, nervous nature, it had been clear that she was in no danger. And while the thought of their child was enough to burn his body with desire to turn back and be with her, killing her father and knowing his destiny had steadied himself on the path he had been promised. 

He would not return to her. 

With the city quieting and fires in its walls raging behind him, Kirk spoke. “I cannot.” 

Thor bent down and lifted Kirk by his shirt. “It amuses me that you felt you had a choice in the matter. You will be coming.”

Kirk took Thor’s forearm and twisted, releasing himself to stand before the God. “I am meant to be here. Neither Aztrit or my daughter will live if I return with you. My mother wants them both and I will not be giving them to her.” 

Thor stepped closer to him with his hand on his Mjolnir, “You will come willingly or by my hand—” 

Crumbling earth and towering waves shook them both away from one another. Kirk looked to the ocean where a dark black mass had begun to rise. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to gain clarity. It seemed to stretch into the horizon, blocking any and all land or ships that may have once been in the distance. All that could be seen was the seemingly curving beast that had begun to shadow over the land they all stood on. 

“Jormungand.” Thor said its name in a curse as his hammer remained planted in the shaking earth beneath him. The monster reared its head in response, blocking what little sunlight had peeked through the clouded sky. Its razor filled jaw opened with the laziness only a monster of grand size could conjure, and screeched with death filled fervour.  

Kirk heard the cursed name pass from Thor’s lips, his brown gaze stayed on the risen sea serpent, its body unfathomably large in the ocean that seemed to disappear far beneath its belly. Kirk planted his feet into the ground and questioned his fate, but held his axe handle tighter all the same. 

Thor glanced at Kirk as he readied his weapon for battle. His black hair became matted from the sudden rain funnelling from the sky after its unexpected dispersal from the ocean’s surface. He supposed it was possible that Kirk didn’t fear death because he was so close to it, but any warrior who acted this way, glaring at death in its eyes rather than cowering—was worthy. It was what had made Odin choose him, and Aztrit to admire him. This, Thor was sure.

Jormungand twisted his serpent body, shifting the earth once more, and stirring the water beneath him. As the ground shook Kirk’s feet stumbled from the splitting earth in the clearing. He attempted to retreat further to the wall, but as the stones shook with the earth the pillars began to fall around him. He tucked his head as large pieces came down towards his head. 

Thor shouted to the sky as he held Mjolnir above his head, whipping air in a protective barrier above them both. Kirk looked up at the suspended stones as the wave rushed over their heads and collided with the barrier. He looked to Thor as his cheeks and neck strained from the force of the air he was creating. “Go!” Thor shouted as he held a hand out towards the wall and blew the staggered stone inward. While he didn’t understand the half mortal's choice, he did understand Kirk's dying need to protect the family he had begun to build. 

Thor watched Kirk stand and nod his appreciation to him, just before jumping through the barrier as the wave pulled away. He pitied Kirk. If only he understood that the Aesir were cursed in more ways than one. 

Jormungand’s screeching broke through Thor’s thoughts as he let the barrier down. He caught his breath as his own heavy wet hair clung to his sharp cheeks. As the beast glowered down at him, and only him, he knew where he was needed. Just as Kirk had. 

As Jormungand reeled his head back to spring his earth crushing jaws forward, Thor held up Mjolnir once more and shouted for honour, “For Asgard!” 

✴

Not far from the fated enemies battling, Aztrit shouted out her dull pain and squeezed Loki’s hand until it turned purple. 

“Aztrit, I think you’re going to break it.” Loki whimpered out as he seethed with pain. He looked down at her as the contraction passed, her curly hair splattered all over the derelict bed. Its old tattered furs warmed her uncovered lower body just enough to keep her comfortable. Even in the freezing cottage she was sweating profusely. 

Aztrit tried to calm and steady her breathing as Dahlia had taught her, but she felt so light headed that the bouts of dizziness made her feel as if she should push harder each time they occurred. If she passed out, at least she was doing everything to bring her child into the world. 

Rain water splattered down from the ceiling suddenly, falling into her blinking eyes. She released Loki’s hand and covered her face. “What is this place, brother? Why did you not take me back to Vertan?”

Loki looked around the room as he stayed by her side, scanning for anything to cover the holes with. He grumbled as he pointed to the ceiling and summoned a thick blanket. “You are being extremely unappreciative of how well I am working under this pressure.” 

Aztrit gave another strained sigh as she glared at him, “You just put a blanket on the roof.” 

“I’m trying my best!” Loki shouted back at her as Aztrit contracted again, her screams running over his own. “Where is that blasted woman?!”

Dahlia swung in the door, causing it to hit the wall and fall off its hinges, the doorknob still planted firmly in her hand. “Sorry…” she muttered as she tried to put it back in place to shield Aztrit from the cold air flurrying outside. 

“Dahlia.” Aztrit said happily with tears in her eyes as her sister approached her side.

Dahlia took Aztrit’s sweating palm into her own and looked into her golden eyes, “I am here. Sorry it took me so long, getting this human body here was much more trouble than I imagined.”

Aztrit clung close to her hand and lifted Dahlia’s pale fingers to her brown forehead. She felt Dahlia squeeze her back in return. “I’m so sorry. What Odin has done to you is unforgivable.” 

Dahlia held her breath. Even now she could feel how itchy and unnatural this body made her. Odin had used the Valkyrie as he wished, proving that they were nothing more than objects to be manipulated as he had all others. 

But there wasn’t time to think about her discomfort, or the sisters they would lose. Now was the time to have a baby. “You are my only thought right now.” She kissed her forehead and adjusted the flattened pillows behind her. “Sit up, please.”

Aztrit obeyed and slid her butt underneath herself closer to the moulded wall with Dahlia’s help. She looked up at her again for my advice, her calm demeanour filling Aztrit’s senses. “Thank you.” She whispered breathlessly as her sister washed her with emotion. 

Dahlia looked to Loki and nodded, “Don’t think your work is done. I can’t conjure as well in this form, and Aztrit needs everything to be clean. Can you do something about this…” she looked around from floor to ceiling at their residence, “...hovel, you chose to let your sister give birth in?” 

Loki scoffed, spirits were all so full of themselves. Their confidence from knowing their divine purpose was almost unbearable. “I was getting to it.”

Dahlia stopped him as he lifted his hands, “A fireplace, hot water, clean sheets, clean wrappings, and a large vat of porridge.” 

Loki looked at her in wonder as he delayed his task. “Porridge?” 

Dahlia did not look at him, she only breathed in and out with Aztrit, settling her pace so that her body wouldn’t go into shock. As she breathed deeply and rode out the pain from a contraction she nodded to him, “Porridge is offered to the fates while a woman gives birth. It appeases them so they will spin a longer thread as they are present.”

“The fates will be present?” He said in fear. 

Dahlia stared at him in his eyes, tired of his incessant questions. “The fates have never left you, nor I. And they will be with this baby. Now do as I have asked you.”

Aztrit squeezed Dahlia’s hand fiercely as she succumbed to the labour pains, holding her bare belly as she felt her body seize. “It’s okay, she’s almost here, just a little more Aztrit.” Dahlia chanted in her ear, attempting to be strong for her sister as her baby came fast and unforgiving.  

In the Hyatse sea crag, Kirk climbed the castle steps two at a time, aware that no enemies lied in his way between himself and his mother. Sand shifted under his feet as it dusted off onto the sandstone stairs of the hidden dwarven city. Bridges and buildings covered the sea facing cliffs, giving solitude to the hermit society that craved it. Brownstone and black seagrass led architecturally, with cliff carvings etched into columns depicting smithing and war.

The bodies scattered over the grand tan staircase were young and old, dwarven and human, showing the battle had touched the city centre. But the victors were nowhere to be seen. It was a trap, this he was sure. But nothing would prevent him from settling this the only way he knew how. 

Kirk pushed open the heavy castle doors and walked into its grand hall. 

He breathed out deeply. His breath chilled in the air, forming a cloud in front of his pink lips. The room was cold and dark, no light in its torches and an empty throne far in the distance. 

Even in its emptiness, Kirk felt eyes all around him, the cobbled stone crumbling and groaning as if the castle itself was breathing in the fear and pain of the battle ongoing around it. Whispering became audible, bouncing along the walls, and crawling up to the ceiling. As Kirk stepped further into the hall, the doors shut closed behind himself with no help and the whispering became cackling. 

Each step further into the castle told him that it had been long since the dwarves had occupied it. This war was not their own, and had not been joined willingly. Tuffets of dust flew into the air each time his foot met the tattered black roll of tapestry that was strewn across the floor. 

A sickening feeling crept in his spine, causing him to shake his head from left to right to get it to leave him. While he didn’t feel it in his heart, he could smell what his mother was projecting—fear. 

Hel's cackling stopped as wind blurred through the hall. Kirk readied his axe and crouched carefully. Shadows danced into the hall, flurrying in with dead soldiers in their palms to wear as they surrounded him. His mother appeared behind the short throne, holding the nearly dead dwarven king upright in his seat of power.  

Kirk pitied Kloi as she held his head higher, pressing a white finger into his forehead and slanting the iron crown on his head. Hel smiled at her son as she chanted, “Teik djolk al lal…” 

Kirk watched her begin to drag the ebony blade against King Kloi’s pale throat, his husk of a conscious body hardly reacting as she cut his throat. Rich red blood trickled in thick ringlets down the curve in his throat, and his gurgling filled the hall.

Kirk stood unshaken as her long stringy hair fluttered behind her as she stepped slowly down the stone steps. Her milk white feet met the pool of blood that had begun to gather at the foot of the throne. 

She dropped the blade and circled around him as spikes of the same christened ebony rose in a circle with Kirk in its centre. “I am so pleased to see you, Lord Verdulke. You are nothing if not predictable.” 

“I am pleased we have the same opinion of one another, mother.” Kirk spoke out indifferent towards her. 

Hel smiled from ear to ear, her yellowed teeth showcasing rows of sharpened tips leading back into her throat. “I am a little sad that you did not let me have your Valkyrie, or that little mongrel of yours."

Kirk clenched, but contained himself. A rise was exactly what she was waiting for. Any excuse to kill him instead of succumbing to the deal she had thoughtlessly made. If he attacked her, she would kill him. And she was promised a soul. “I saw what was intended for me in the Well’s Waters. I did not understand it then, but I do now. I saw what my father promised you.” 

Hel snarled and bared her teeth again. “That old, stupid fool. That beloved sickly elvish King of yours told him who I was. He had seen me coming. Still, he had let me seduce him, bearing his tainted spawn. And just as I wanted my satisfaction from the kill, newborn flesh, he uses my name against me.”

Kirk smirked fondly at the recalling of his father. He was not a stupid man. Desperate and lonely, hoping for an heir, he had done what he had to pass on his lineage. The thoughts Derkot had passed to him, the memories, he had told him everything knowing he would not see it until it was useful to him. 

Birau had been warned by King Derkot of Hel’s plans for him and he had gone along with them so that Kirk would be born. Hel had made a habit of seducing mortals and slaying the offspring they produced so that she could feed off of the Father’s grief, but she had chosen this target poorly. 

How was she to know that Birau was so close to the Fates? 

Birau had done as instructed by King Derkot and called her true name, not the false name she had given herself to sell the body she was using as a vessel. And in calling her name, he was granted one demand. 

Not a wish. 

He demanded for her to suspend his son's killing until Kirk was capable of choosing it for himself. Sacrifice his life, or his offspring’s. But only after he had continued their lineage, ensuring that Birau’s name and blood would live on. 

Kirk held his head higher, not looking at her as she paced back and forth. “I have chosen, and my lineage is assured.”

Hel’s deep inhumane growling grew deafening over Kirk. She wrapped her pale fingers around his throat and squeezed. “You have no domain over me!” Kirk closed his eyes as her spittle flew over his face. “Not you, or that insatiable boar that called himself King!” Hel centred herself and released him. Killing him didn’t have to be so...straightforward. She could still get what she wanted. 

She smiled again and gripped the side of his jaw. “My son made sure Odin could no longer oppress me again. And my brothers...my brothers are ensuring that Odin’s children can never do the same. And you...you are my prize.” She brought he snarled black lips closer and watched his jaw tick, “To torture as I wish. For as long as I wish.” 

She released him and stepped outside of the growing ebony spikes. “Birau ensured that I had to kill you if you asked, but he didn’t specify how long it had to take. And as soon as it’s done, I’m free to do as I wish.”

Kirk watched her hold up a pale finger. “But...your child hasn’t been born just yet, and what fun would that be to take her for my own now?” She licked her lips and laughed deeply. “The bitterness, the sadness, the cruelty of losing everyone around her. It shall grow with the evil you passed to her, the evil you bore from me. And she will come to me willingly. If...she thinks she can save her father.” 

Kirk stepped forward, only to be stopped as a large ebony spike went through his shoulder and brought him to his knees. His shrieking filled the hall as his blood ran white hot. 

Hel pouted her lip as his bellowing went unceasingly. She clicked her teeth at him, “Kirk, darling. The beauty of this blood trap your friend Kloi kindly sacrificed himself for is that I need your permission to execute it. You have done me—and your offspring considerable service by bringing us together. And I will make sure she never forgets you.”

Kirk wailed as more pikes went through his stomach, into his legs, and out of his back. The singing pain was unforgettable and had rendered him immobile. He felt his fingers drop his axe as his grip weakened and screams tore from his throat.

Aztrit felt flashes of pain throughout her body, her mind escaping to Kirk as she felt his endless pain tearing through her. She gasped loudly as the room went silent behind her scream. She felt spikes tearing through his body, his own bellowing crashing through her mind as she lifted her head off of the pillow. 

She cried with unequivocal strength knowing what was happening. “Kirk!” She screamed for him as she felt pain again, unable to hear Dahlia as she tried to comfort her. 

She looked around the room fiercely, needing him to miraculously appear. “He’s dying… Dahlia…” She said faintly as the pain began to subside, her hand loosening in her brother’s palm. 

Loki and Dahlia groaned in pain as her high pitched screaming rang through the renewed cottage. Dahlia did her best to focus on the baby’s head pushing through Aztrit. “You cannot clench sister, please!” Dahlia focused her calming energy with the strength she had left, relaxing Aztrit into a sleepy state as she gave her final push. 

 “She’s killing him.” Aztrit whispered as she felt her body release a great pressure and images of Kirk crying in pain fluttered behind her eyelids.

Dahlia’s hands shook as she lifted the baby into her arms for the first time. A beautiful pale brown baby who had yet to grow into her pigment, with bowed lips and all fingers and toes. Dahlia held back tears as the baby began to cry out. “She’s here, sister. Your baby girl is here.” She said quietly as Aztrit continued to cry. 

Aztrit lifted her head sleepily, seeing the beautiful baby in Dahlia’s arms, bloody and flailing. Briefly, she felt happiness until more pain washed over her.

Aztrit threw her head back, Kirk’s pain piercing her body once more as he gasped for air. In the distance she could see him on his knees in overwhelming darkness as he screamed for her. Aztrit felt her body recovering as she tried to get up from the bed. 

He needed her. She was the only one who could help him. 

She felt her heart uncomfortably beating as she fell from the bed reaching out for him.

Dahlia ran to Aztrit, placing her baby in Loki’s arms above her.

Loki looked down, stunned by what he had seen.

Knowing his offspring would be cursed monsters, he had never been there for their mothers as they were cast into the world. Yet here his sister’s baby was, cooing and squirming as he washed her in the warm basin. He touched her lips and felt her velvet new fleshed fingers. She was truly beautiful. She could only be so if she was born from Aztrit’s heart and kindness. 

 Aztrit looked up at Loki from the floor and reached out for her baby. “Noë, for Nott.” She whispered as her black haired baby fell asleep in Loki’s arms. 

"Night." Loki bent down to Aztrit’s side as he wrapped Noë in the clean wrappings left. Aztrit spoke softly to her as Dahlia cleaned her legs and aided her with the afterbirth. 

Unable to take her baby into her weak arms, Aztrit kissed Noë's hand gently. “Noë…” She dragged as her tears poured from her eyes. Her heart longed for Kirk to be there. To hold them both, and rock them as they all settled in his arms for the first time. She felt raucous sobs in her chest as she thought about her baby never being held by her father, about never looking into his silvered eyes ever again. 

Kirk was still alive. She had to go to him. She could save him.

Dahlia eyed Aztrit as she struggled to sit herself up. “Aztrit...Aztrit?” she said softly as she caught her sister as she tried to stand. “You must rest, you cannot go out there.” 

Aztrit held Dahlia’s hand as she steadied her. She stood up and straightened her back. She looked into Dahlia’s pale green eyes and held her head to her own. Dahlia gripped her arms as she shifted into her Valkyrie form.

“How did you...Odin cursed us, did he not?” Dahlia said in shock as Aztrit gained strength and colour before her. “No. I will not let you go.” Dahlia felt her lip tremble as Aztrit attempted to slip away. “Your daughter needs you, Kirk is lost!” 

Aztrit held Dahlia’s face and communicated her undying love for her through their paired eyes. She gripped Dahlia’s neck and singed her skin. 

Dahlia cried out as she touched the burn she had given her. The Leyra—a marker of healing and protection, old Vanir magic that had been used only by Freyja once before. She looked up into Aztrit’s eyes as her black wings spread out and fluttered. “It will slow your body’s decay. Please sister...take care of my daughter. Give her your love and courage, without it I would have been lost.” 

“Aztrit…” Dahlia sobbed as she let her hand go.

Loki looked to his sister as she approached him and whispered to her daughter. “Your father loves you, Noë. I love you.” She cried as she held her valkyrie form in her weakness.

Aztrit looked to her brother and gripped his shoulder. “You have never seen the love in you, but it has never escaped me. You are worthy of it, even in your mistakes. Protect my daughter until we meet again, brother.”

Loki felt his heart clench in his chest as she placed a hand over it. Her message was clear, she was not returning. “On this you have my word, little one.” 

Dahlia shook her head as Aztrit summoned the wind. “No!” Dahlia grabbed her hand, trying to keep her in the small cottage. “Aztrit, you have to stop. Your daughter needs you!” She said again as she cried her own tears, knowing why her sister was fighting so hard to maintain her strength. 

Aztrit grabbed the sides of Dahlia’s face as she kissed her cheek softly. “No. No.” Dahlia said gently as she embraced her sister, Aztrit’s weight almost too much to keep her standing. 

“Dahlia, she needs you. If I don’t go out there, we’ll all die. Surtr is calling me. The fates have deemed it so.” Aztrit could hear the Guardian of Muspelheim calling out for Asgard’s champion as he overtook it for Ragnarök. She was sure he would be waiting right where Hel was keeping Kirk.

“I love you…so much Dahl…” She said as she squeezed her to her chest, looking at her precious girl laying in Loki's arms. “Please take care of her.” She said with uncertainty as she attempted to pull her body away. Dahlia cried out again for her as wind swept through her empty fingers.

Aztrit flashed from the cottage far too quickly, sobbing as she continued to feel the pains Kirk was sharing with her mentally. She gagged and coughed into the grass beneath her as she landed outside of Hyatse's crumbled stone barrier, their city in plain view in the earth behind her.

The white sands of the beach were nearly serene, promising dark and peaceful quiet on the stormy Salt Sea.

Aztrit held her sides in pain as she looked up and around her. No life could be seen through the whispering trees or on the waving waters on either side of her. In the distance past the cliff she could see a large floating serpent drifting lifelessly with the waves. 

She didn’t have the strength to move anymore, and she had fallen short of the throne room she had seen Kirk in. She cursed the earth beneath her and looked up into the thundering sky. Instead of the familiar lightning causing the sky distress, red painted across the moon and darkened sky into the horizon. 

Well past twilight, the fiery colours danced as the veils between the worlds began to fall. Surtr’s calls were getting stronger, and in destroying Asgard, he would surely destroy the other worlds on the Great Tree Yggdrasil, even his own. 

Saving Kirk was no longer possible. Not if she hoped to save everyone else as well. 

She would have to choose. 

Aztrit stayed on her knees and prayed. She prayed for her Father, for her lover, for her daughter, and her sister. She prayed that she would be making the right choice. 

She took her hand and cut her palm from her forefinger to her wrist. As she drew the summoning seal for the Bifrost she muttered and chanted softly in Vanir, calling out for the physical bridge between worlds to appear to her. It was the only way for trapped immortals to return to their homes if the winds could not take them. As a very ancient and last resort.

It and the Leyra were the preparations she had made before leaving Asgard the final time. She remembered whispers of Fryeja’s magic still scrawled in books in her father’s library and had found them easily. She had hoped she wouldn’t need them.

The sky thundered and clapped as fire began to rain from the veils and began to rip open. She looked to her home far in the sky's void, burning and falling to pieces endlessly. There the fire giant Surtr stood in all of his horned glory, burning and tearing at the branches of Yggdrasil that fought for Midgard’s protection. 

Aztrit stopped her prayers and the glittering blue bridge began to form from the edge of the coast in front of her and into the sky where Surtr glared down on her. His demonic eyes called for her death as she stood fated to challenge him. 

The King of Fire and his immortal tamer; The Fire Wielder born to control the power he commanded. 

Finally, she understood. He was in her power to control. Derkot and Baldur had told her all along.

The fires in her fingertips seemed to lift themselves to him in the distance, feeling a kinship with the destruction he had created behind himself. 

As Kirk called to her again, Aztrit sobbed, holding onto the roots binding Midgard to her world. “I’m so sorry.” She gasped as she tried to stand, seeing Surtr rising far above her in the clouds of her home. 

She watched as the red flames around him licked the space around his giant form, overwhelmingly towering above the structures that had been destroyed long before his arrival. 

Surtr had come, and no one was left alive to face him but her. 

Aztrit whispered her apologies again as she thought about the message Derkot had given her that day. He had warned her of exactly this, that without her sacrifice the realms would fall, leaving no one standing. But if she was to give herself at the end of their journey, her daughter and everyone else would continue to survive, carrying on the legacy of their lives. 

She pulled her blade from behind her back with Baldur’s blessing, mimicking Surtr as he raised his own. She called to Kulda for the final time as she stared upwards at the ancient being, knowing now was that time he had spoken of. 

As Surtr lifted his great blade, the volcanic ash he breathed surrounded her, causing her lungs to collapse as she stood strong, surrounding herself in the eternal flames that would not succumb to the atrocities of evil that had plagued her home land. 

As he thrust his blade into the Bifrost, she looked to him unafraid, the flames engulfed the bridge in waves, flooding close to her in an unforgiving flash. 

She sunk her blade into the roots of the tree, spreading her wings with equal fervour as she felt the blue flames pouring from her body, protecting Yggdrasil and shielding the entrances to the other worlds with the purity of her flames, preventing them from falling to the fiery fate that was previously written.

Their clash—red and blue—painted the black night. A flurry of colours breathtaking and complete shone as they collided above the land cosmic and unwavering.

She opened her eyes in shock, feeling her soul vibrating, separating from her body as she continued to act as a shield. The skies were painted electric blue from the clashing flames. Gold tears trickled from her fluttering eyelids as she said Kirk’s name one final time. She saw a brief episode of his laughter, his voice, and his smile passing before her as the heavens aired her visions. 

Aztrit knew her moment had come–and welcomed it.

In Helheim, Kirk opened his eyes as he felt Aztrit’s connection fading within him, knowing she was close to death. He tried to pull his body from the spikes splitting his body as his blood poured from his wounds. “No! Aztrit!” He screamed in pain as his heart began to wither in his body, until the pull between their souls disappeared. 

As he felt the final snap—their connection severed by her death, he let his tears spill from his eyes, knowing what she had done. “No, no!” He bellowed as fought his binds, his flesh tearing as he did so. 

“Kirk…” He heard her call his name softly. His name and his alone. He shut his eyes, seeing her leave her body in his soul as it shattered. Her flesh had ignited slowly, and crumbled to ash. 

He gasped with pain as he fell to his knees again, unable to move his body as he felt her depart. 

Kirk’s thoughts turned dark as he felt the area around him collapsing, the images of his love and daughter floating about his mind, taunting him of the future he would never hold. Now in the deepest areas of Helheim he felt himself praying for death, wanting to rejoin her any way he could. 

Kirk tried calling for her. 

She had promised that she would always come.

He felt her hands on his face, her spirit taunting him as her words coaxed his mind into believing she was still there. 

With finality, he heard her as his breathing slowed. “I love you, Kirk.” Her melodic voice sung over her lips as she uttered those words for the last time. 

“Aztrit.” He cried as he kept his face bent to the stone ground of his prison cell, accepting his fate as his child and the woman he loved slipped from his grip.

For he was alone.  

End