Nightshade: Chapter III
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III – The Guide and the Goddess
In the night the cottage was clear, brick and mortar on the south side of the cove away from the village centre, a thin line of markets and housing separated by homeland trees, patient and caring as they scraped in the southern rain and wind.
“Tired of stalking from above?” Orion spoke as he watched his God’s Eagle circling above, wings of blue black tipped with red elven markings.
Behind him he could feel the God’s divine mischief, an energy green and blue, curious to know if the Herald of the Fates had grown into a friend or an enemy.
Calm winter wind blew through Orion’s deep red hair, his eyes blind but all seeing–unwavering.
Loki approached from the black emerald trees warily, still unsure if fate’s keeper would strike him just for sharing his space. So much had been done, said–poetic and non–that Loki was sure his presence alone would infuriate the Norns beyond comparison. “I almost thought you hadn’t noticed.”
A quiet smile curled Orion’s pale pink lips as Loki joined him by his side, overlooking the dwelling. “I wouldn’t be good at my job if I hadn’t.” his smile fell as their gathering reminded him that the time had come, and sooner than he hoped. “You were right. She isn't ready.”
He allowed silence to linger as Loki breathed deeply, white clouds of smoke pouring from his mouth and noise as frustration won.
“And here you came all this way, and on borrowed time. There's no helping it now. She must be moved.” Loki looked northward to where the trees grew thin far off to Narothal where more than shadows were on their way to collect Hel’s awaited prize. At night the valley looked untouched by war or strife, gentle and waiting to allow travellers reprieve so deep in the wilds that were once Grothen and Hyatse. It was a good place to raise her. But protection and safety were only temporary assurances.
“I swore to her mother… and to Baldur, that she would be safe. But there’s no keeping Hel from her any longer. The realm weakens more each day and my own magic with it.”
Putting a hand in his cloak, Loki removed the worn black journal tightly wound in Baldur's red string. Within it still he could feel traces of his seidr, his predictive gifts that had allowed him to help the niece he had never met with her journey and beyond.
Orion closed his eyes against the wind and spoke with promise. “Hel will not have her.” It was not a reality he would allow.
Loki’s knuckles tightened on the journal, his fingers grazing the ridged edges of the pages as he tasted regret and longing.
Orion noticed his possessive nature over it.
“Baldur’s affections exceed physical confines… don’t you think?”
Loki looked up at the young elven man, his calm blue eyes eerily seeing through his soul's struggles to part with the last of Baldur’s possessions.
Orion continued. “Emotions are not so easy to hide, and often they do not care to. Blessings cannot be bestowed through fractions of the past.”
Loki shook his head, the gentle feeling of Orion's understanding passing through him without saying.
It was true.
He had done all that he could and more.
Aztrit would be proud.
Baldur would be proud.
And with The Herald, Noë would be cared for.
Every action had brought him to where he stood, and allowed him to keep watch as what remained of their family began to right the wrongs committed against the realms.
Loki felt his own pride peeking between the cage of his heart as he thought of Noë. The next time he transformed would be his last. And it was she who would carry their torch.
“You’ll keep her safe, won’t you? Until we meet again?”
Orion nodded. “Until we meet again.” a hand extended to Loki’s as he passed the journal on.
It was true the realms grew weaker with each season, Fimbulwinter’s prolonged state keeping the imbalance between the nine realms in a perpetual state of frozen darkness.
Noë’s task was unlike any other, with dangers that would be spoken of in soft awe like curses in the midst of night.
But it was one only she could complete.
“You’re allowed to fear for her, Loki. It means she is loved–and loved fiercely.”
Loki scoffed, thinking instantly of his love in comparison to Dahlia’s. “It's you I fear for, Nornorë. Dahlia has babied her for two centuries, she won’t allow you to take her quietly.”
Orion looked into the dark window of the cottage without fear. “Confronting a fallen Valkyrie is not the role I play.”
Loki watched as his demeanour remained cool, unshaken. He hadn’t said it would come to a fight. “Is she…”
Orion wished it wouldn’t be so, but as magic disappeared, so would protective sigils. “The Leyra’s time is done, and the Red Valkyrie will come to do what she must. Dahlia knows this to be true and has accepted her fate.”
Loki turned from him immediately, prepared to warn them both when screeching erupted in his head, sinking him to his knees.
Orion breathed deeply through Loki’s pain–familiar with it as the Norns rejected Loki’s attempts to take action himself.
Orion understood the fear the Norns inspired amongst divinity, their absolute ability of control frightening to those who thought themselves too far out of reach to be reigned in.
“She isn’t yours to save.” Orion said softly as the screeching ceased, his blind eyes seeing only displeasure, leaving the quiet chirping of the night forest to fall against the ocean waves.
Whatever happened, it was because the Norns allowed for it, and though fates changed, the results of efforts often remained the same.
He turned over his shoulder as Loki rose once more. “I understand your desire to change fate, but return your fears to the height of the stars. There, it awaits should you ever fail.”
Orion returned his gaze back to the cottage window, feeling Noë’s presence just beyond it–sleeping although not peacefully.
He closed his eyes, reaching out to her with hopes to comfort, for these nights she rested her last before the storm.
Swept in the black water current of Noë’s dream, a hand reached out pale and lithe, beckoning for her to take hold of it and be led to safer pastures. Green and red, striking white and blue, it seemed the world was energy itself, safe and encouraged as her eyes opened hopeful and tearing.
Opening her eyes softly to candle light, Noë turned her head against the white pillow beside her Aunt sleeping peacefully; gentle wind pressing against the cottage in the dead of night.
Though eerie and telling, the feeling of being watched did not phase her–instead calling to her to come closer to the window where she could feel the gentle energy far out past the forest cliffs.
She sighed soft and low against the pane, her breath warming the glass as she placed a hand on it, attempting to feel the energy for herself, an enticing safety bound with care.
Somewhere in the black, it was him.
Overwarmth reached her past the glass, its chill comforting as her heart began to beat frantically, sure of who was out there lying in wait.
Black wings fluttered before the window, making her jump in surprise. Scored and cut, she recognized the giant raven’s beak.
“Huginn.” She shook her head and sat on the cushion beside the window, moving the light closer to see her friend. “You scared me, you rat.” she said with playful relief as she opened the window for him.
She rubbed his head and ruffled his feathers. “Coming in before the storm tomorrow?” Sensing his response she ceased her petting. “Hrim won’t be happy, but you’re welcome to share the stables with him. Go on.” she watched as he took off again, using the low gusts over the yellow grass to drift into the open stable window before the woods.
“It’s after midnight.”
Noë looked over her shoulder as Dahlia placed a long blue scarf over her bare shoulders, dark and etched with silver.
As Dahlia sat beside her, the candlelight glowing against her niece’s skin of enchanting bronze, the fine wisps of her white hair messy and long down to her waist, she saw the curiosity peeking in her silver eyes. “Another dream?’
Noë almost did not wish to tell her. She would only explain it away, as she so often did in effort to keep her from adventure. “An energy. And when I woke…” she looked back to the cliffs to find it gone. Had she imagined it? “I thought I felt it. Out there.”
Dahlia looked out with her, concern drawing her features together. It was Noë’s gifts that made her sensitive to energy within and around her, and their overwhelming power that allowed for her to be lost to them. Whenever she mentioned feeling or even seeing spirits, Dahlia believed her–always. But it was for her sake that she did not indulge.
A hand on the knee was all it took for Noë to know that again she would dismiss her. “Perhaps you should rest?”
Noë shook her head. Resting seemed to do her no good. For days she had felt charged, as if the storm brewing over the seas was drifting closer each second. Orion was right. This storm was far unlike the others. “I can’t. Someone is out there, Auntie. I can feel it.”
Dahlia knew this much was true, but hoped to be wrong.
A visitor would be upon them soon.
To be continued...